Heart of Man

”Bозлюбленный!” (Sweetheart!)

I turned, smiling at the familiar tone, to come up to the voice’s shoulder. Val unlaced our hands, rubbing my back softly, announcing his leave of me.

“Евгений, мой дорогой,” (Evgeni, my dear) I mumbled, hoping not to bring attention to ourselves, as my friend wrapped his arms around my waist, nearly squeezing the life out of me. I returned the gesture, my arms around his neck. “Я рад, что вы здесь,” (I’m glad you are here)

“Hey! Erika!” I let go of my friend, ignoring the looks from what I would guess as his teammates, to look behind me a ways, at the situation that was taking place. “So come meet the rest of the guys formally!”

A slender, brunette made her way to a very American group of boys, acting very anxiously. Geno followed my transfixed gaze, a deep chuckle shortly following, as he began murmuring into my ear, information that was key. “That Erika Harper. She play on Capitals.”

I nodded, thinking about the people whom I had met, that I could remember played on the Washington Capitals National Hockey League Team. “With Semyon?”

“Da. I think that all you met on Capitals team. I think you not met Semin yet..” I had tuned my companion out, as I kept my attention on the woman fraternizing with ‘Team USA’.

A dark-haired member began to point out his teammates, names not registering in my mind, as the curly blonde began drooling over the girl. There were murmurs of ‘roommates’ and such, and I could tell that tension rose in the corner of the foyer.

The group began to disperse, when Geno placed his hand on the small of my back, turning up back to his teammates.

“Ребята, некоторые из вас встретил эту маленькую леди. Она дорогой мой друг, кто пришел поддержать нас,” (Guys, some of you have met this little lady. She’s a dear friend of mine, who has come to support us.) I had to restrain the laughter that bubbled into me.

“Способ положить слова в мой рот, Евгений,” (Way to put words into my mouth, Evgeni.) I smiled, turning to Semyon, whose grin was becoming contagious as he extended his arms warmly, wrapping me in a hug.

“Она орехи. В любом случае, Анна Банана, вы помните, Дацюк, Ковальчук, Федоров. Они не здесь еще, хотя. Кроме того, Гончар, Марков, Калинин, но они уже наверху,” (She’s nuts. Anyways, Anna Banana, you remember Datsyuk, Kovalchuk, and Fedorov. They aren’t here yet, though. Also, Gonchar, Markov, and Kalinin, but they are already upstairs.) I nodded absentmindedly, as he began to count his teammates on his fingers. “Я сомневаюсь, что вы могли забыть Семен, или Овечкин. Это Сергей Зиновьев и Александр Семин,” (I doubt you could forget Semyon, or Ovechkin. This is Sergei Zinovyev, and Alexander Semin.)

I accepted Zinovyev’s hand, a small smile graced upon his pale face. You could tell that he had still been playing in the KHL. “Is good to meet you.”

I beamed at his English. Sometimes, it really surprised me how far people would go to learn English. “It’s nice to meet you too, hun.”

I pulled away from Semyon’s grasp, extending my hand to Alexander Semin, who just kind of stared at my hand as if it was nothing. “Я не трогать шайбу шлюх-,” (I don’t touch puck slu-..)

I sighed, withdrawing my limb. “Не то что у вас есть не раньше, я уверен, что,” (Not like you haven’t before, I’m sure.) I had honestly never had a single problem with any Russian hockey player in my life, but this was totally unexpected. “You know what, Geno. I don’t have time for this asshole.”

Walking away from some of the few friends I had, and a very angry Krasnoyarsk-native with a handprint, yielded very little satisfaction. Much less than I thought it actually would. I opened the emergency exit to the stairs, shaking my hand slightly once I was out of their sight. Felt like I was being electrocuted when I slapped him.

Shit is going to hit the fan if I play against him.

~

I threw my bags on the far bed next to the window, completely ignoring a very confused Val, Teemu, and Lasse.

“Say something for the love of God, dammit! Stop staring at me!” I rotated my leg, kicking the wall as hard as I could comfortably in my jeans, before falling face down on my bed.

“Banana, what happened?” Lasse, I didn’t think would have said anything, since he was generally a timid person off the ice, but spoke up nonetheless.

“Nothing!” I crawled to the end of the bed, letting my arms hang off.

A weight pressed onto my right side, before settling on my butt, their owner dipping their hands into the muscles in my shoulders. “Kultaseni, you know we worry about you.”

I felt my shoulder blades relax, as the tension began burning out of my body, sending soothing waves throughout the nerves and tissues. “It’s nothing, just a little bit of frustration. Thanks, Val.”

He laughed heartily, poking my sides before rolling off of me. “Be ready in an hour. ‘Team Dinner’ is tonight. Tomorrow is the full team, but tonight, it’s just us.”

Moments later, the door slammed, leaving me in my room, empty. Even Val left, and we shared the room. Groaning, I kicked my pillows, pulling myself up to unzip my bag, and pulled out my purple dress from my high school graduation, matching shoes, a clean set of undergarments, and a small white box, onto the green comforter.

~

Snagging a quick shower, I practically threw on my attire, praying for the hairdryer to go faster, when there was a resonate knock on my door. Flicking the switch off, I laid the device on the counter, making my hose-clad feet over to open the white door.

Standing infront of me, was a delicious-looking Valtteri Fippula, looking smashing in a simple pair of black dress pants, and a button-up white dress shirt, complimented with an accentuating belt and dress shoes.

“Don’t you clean up well, Fippula?” I turned back into my room smiling, grabbing my small black clutch, slipping my shoes on, and slipping my phone and room card into the purse. Guess there’s no time for make-up..

As if he was reading my mind, “You look beautiful without make-up,” passing through the air around us. Stealing a glance, I linked our arms, pulling him out of our room, closing the door so we could head downstairs.

~



I closed the phone without responding, looking up from the table at the very loud crowd at the other end of the small restaurant. Patrick, most of the people from the foyer group presently sitting at a clump of tables, the girl amoungst them.

Who is she?