Here's something brand new, in a brand new city, with a brand new team. The main guy isn't based on anyone in particular, but you may recognize some of his teammates. (Note: I started this story before trade deadline earlier this year, and alas, a couple have been traded, but for the purposes of this story, I left them in.)
I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to leave feedback. It's what I love. ;)
Take care, and happy reading!
M.
****
Dylan looked around the bar and lifted his bottle of beer to his lips. He had to remind himself not to down the entire bottle in one go. It was going to be a long night and he didn't need to be falling down drunk. He eyed the tables lined up in a neat row, and the men and women milling around the open space next to them. They looked as nervous and uncomfortable as he did. He was also still hovering in a state of disbelief.
What am I doing here?
A man in a suit stepped forward and the music blasting out of the speakers dropped in volume.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." The man grinned at the gathered crowd. "Welcome to Tapley's Night of First Impressions."
Dylan wanted to die. He had finally reached the low point in his social life.
"Some of you may be familiar with the process here, some of you may not." The man - Dylan assumed he was the event host - continued to speak. "We call it First Impressions, but it's more widely known as speed dating."
Dylan squeezed his eyes shut.
Yup.
He had reached a new low. He thought he'd hit it with his on-line profiles, the ones that never got any responses, but now...
Fucking speed dating.
He took another long draw on his beer. He'd gone to a great college, earning a degree in English literature and another in history, all while playing hockey well enough to be drafted in the second round. He was smart enough to have figured out a better way to meet women, and yet, here he was.
"All right, let's get started." The host clapped his hands together. "Ladies, please have a seat. The men will be the ones to change seats each round, and at the end of the night, if there are any mutual matches, you'll get each other's phone numbers. Any questions?"
A few people shook their heads. Most looked like Dylan felt, as if they wanted to leave and never come back. But he was here now. He'd already signed in, paid the fee, and he'd told himself he'd give it a try. At this point, he had nothing to lose. Patting the sticker on his chest, scrawled with his assigned number, nineteen, he moved towards one of the tables.
As the music started up again, at a lower register than before, Dylan slid into a chair, across from a woman with short brown hair. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, or hoped he did.
"I'm Betty."
Dylan held his hand out towards her, not sure if they were supposed to shake hands, and she looked a little surprised, but did it anyway. "I'm Teddy."
"Nice to meet you, Teddy."
He'd decided to go with a fake name, though Theodore was his middle name, so it wasn't an all-out fabrication. Still, he thought with his line of work, if anyone went home from here and tried to Google him, they'd come up empty-handed. He really didn't want his name plastered over the internet for attending a speed dating event. What kind of hockey player can't get his own dates?
An awkward silence fell over the table, and Dylan couldn't think of a single thing he wanted to say to Betty.
Eventually, she spoke up. "Is this your first time here?"
"Yes."
"Have you done speed dating anywhere else?"
"No." He shook his head.
She pursed her lips, clearly put out that he wasn't offering more than one-word answers. "Um... Well, I've been here once before."
Dylan nodded. "And?"
"It was all right." She shrugged.
Another awkward silence descended.
Dylan started to sweat. God, this was worse than he thought it would be. He just couldn't talk to women. His mother, yes. His sisters, sure. Friends he'd known forever, or old ladies he helped at the grocery store, fine. But this? One-on-one? With someone attractive who smelled nice? He felt like an ogre. All his education and years of training couldn't help him hold a simple conversation.
A few minutes later, a bell rang, and there was a collective scraping of chairs and shuffling feet. Dylan couldn't help but notice the sigh of relief that lifted Betty's shoulders as he moved on to the next table.
And so it went for the next hour. There were six more women he met, and after that, there was a break for everyone to hit the restrooms, refresh their drinks, or flee, which is what Dylan longed to do. He stuck with it though, knowing he couldn't just leave. He'd told his roommate, Tristen, what he was doing tonight and he'd never hear the end of it if he ducked out early. He knew he could lie, but he'd never been good at that either, so he sat through another fifteen minutes of excruciating small talk.
The bell rang and he offered a smile of apology to the blond woman he'd been seated across from. She wasn't even looking in his direction.
Stifling a sigh, Dylan shifted into the chair at the next table and looked up into a pair of startling grey-green eyes. Under those, a smattering of freckles across round cheeks and all surrounded by dark red hair that slid back over her shoulders as she straightened in her seat.
"Hi." Dylan found himself speaking first. "I'm Teddy."
She met his smile with a tentative one of her own, but as their eyes met, hers narrowed. She studied his face in silence for a long moment, and Dylan started to wonder if he had a booger hanging out of his nose or something.
"Nice to meet you." She met his eyes again. "Teddy."
He heard the hesitation before she said his name and shifted on his chair, feeling even more uncomfortable.
"I'm Cassia."
"It's nice to meet you, Cassia." It was the most Dylan had said at once all night. Lowering his eyes, he turned his bottle of beer around in a circle on the table, thinking of what he could ask her. "Is this your first time here?"
She didn't answer right away and when he looked up again, she was frowning. "Yes. And yourself?"
He nodded. "Yeah. First time." He was pretty sure it was the last, as well. "What do you think about the whole speed dating scene?"
She shrugged, her frown smoothing somewhat. "I suppose it's no worse than some methods of meeting people."
Again, he nodded. "I agree. On-line dating just wasn't working for me."
She said nothing and he was beginning to feel a little unnerved by her scrutiny.
Clearing his throat, he scrambled for something else to say. What were some of the things other women had asked him?
"Uh... So, Cassia, what do you do?"
"I'm a mechanic."
Dylan blinked. She didn't look like a mechanic. Then he chastised himself.
Don't be that guy who stereotypes.
"Really? I wish I knew about cars. I hate having to take mine in every time I hear a funny noise."
A tiny smile curved the corners of her mouth, and Dylan found himself staring at her lips. They looked soft.
