Excerpt
Prove It
Stephanie Hoyt © 2023
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
There’s a noise to Noah’s left. He expects to see his dad, annoyed and ready to tell Noah every way he should’ve done better, how he’s never going to make it in the NHL if he keeps hiding from all his problems instead of facing them head on. He’s gearing up for another blow to this lackluster eighteenth birthday when he glances over at Alex Valencia walking down the row toward him. For a fleeting second, Noah’s relieved he doesn’t have to face his father yet. Then Alex takes the seat next to him and the image of hats flying to the ice after Alex scored the game winner for the United States flashes through his mind and irritation floods through him.
“Come to gloat about your buzzer beater?”
“Does that sound like something I’d do, Anderson?”
Noah drags his attention away from the Zamboni smoothing over the ice to find Alex smiling at him. Which isn’t unexpected—Alex has the opposite of a resting bitch face—but this smile is different from any Noah’s ever received. This one doesn’t match the earnest incandescence Noah has never understood, but now expects from Alex.
Noah’s shocked by how much he hates it. Even more so when he admits, “No, I suppose not.”
He wouldn’t say he’s an expert on Alex’s smiles—they barely know each other—but he’s seen enough to recognize the transformation. A second ago, it was subdued, a little tight, but now he’s grinning, loose and broad enough to dimple his cheeks. This one’s real and Noah has an inexplicable, yet familiar, desire to press his thumb to Alex’s tan skin and measure the depth of his left dimple—always a little more pronounced than the right. Noah’s stomach twists and his heartbeat ratchets up—he can’t afford to still have these thoughts.
Hockey is already a parasitic environment, but being attracted to the one guy he can’t escape is another level of hell entirely. No one, from his dad to the reporters covering their international matchups, can shut up about how Alex would be the clear first overall if Noah wasn’t in his draft class and if anyone could upset the predictions, Alex’s strength and size might give him the edge to do it.
Which…fine. Whatever. Noah can’t fix his height, but he can get stronger and if he has to measure himself against Alex, who truly is phenomenal, to know he’s trying hard enough, then so be it. And maybe, if Alex weren’t gorgeous—with his perfect smile, perfect cheekbones, perfect jaw, perfectly silky-smooth hair—Noah wouldn’t hate it so much. But Alex is stunning, and every time someone mentions his name, everything Noah wants but can never have flashes before his eyes.
Which, for the record, isn’t Alex.
Noah might not know Alex, but after years of crossing paths, he’s pretty confident he’s too much for all of Noah’s anxieties to handle in large doses. Alex is loud and vibrant and always moving. His personality draws people in and keeps them, and he seems to thrive off it. Alex is everything Noah isn’t and nothing he wants to be around.
Noah wants the freedom to fall in love, to live without the pressure to blend in—constantly worried someone can tell he isn’t straight. Noah doesn’t want Alex, but Noah looks at him and his chest aches for what could be if he liked girls, if he didn’t care what people thought of him, if hockey wasn’t such a toxic environment. He looks at Alex and he wants.
Not for the first time, Noah hopes they get drafted to different conferences. He’s not naïve. He knows their first matchup in the NHL will be a big deal regardless of where it happens, but only playing twice a year should mitigate the fuss. If Noah’s lucky, their so-called rivalry will fade into the nonexistent thing Noah wishes it already was.
“Why’re you here then?” Noah asks.
“Wanted to say happy birthday.”
Noah’s pulse skyrockets and his stomach swoops under Alex’s unwavering attention. He sounds so genuine, but Noah narrows his eyes. “How do you know it’s my birthday?” Alex averts his gaze and Noah nearly laughs. “Was someone gloating about my birthday loss?”
“It might’ve come up.”
Noah snorts. “And what—you found me out of the kindness of your heart?”
“Who said I was looking for you? Maybe we both wanted some quiet and when I saw you sulking, I thought, ‘Must suck to lose on your birthday—lemme go cheer him up.’”
Noah arches an eyebrow. “There’s no way you don’t thrive in post-win chaos.”
Alex tilts his head to the side, mouth slanting in a tiny grin. “You’ve got me there.”
Noah purses his lips. He doesn’t understand why Alex keeps seeking him out. The first time, it was understandable. Enough scouts had hyped up the two of them facing off in the u-17 Challenge that Alex doubling back in the hotel lobby the night before their game wasn’t unexpected. Despite years of hearing how good he is, Alex saying he looked forward to playing Noah because he was so talented still threw him off. He’s never taken praise well, but Noah couldn’t even stumble through a thanks for Alex’s earnestness.
Noah was embarrassing and rude and, despite Alex finding him after every tournament to tell Noah how well he played, he never adapted. Alex’s attention gets under Noah’s skin, their interactions leaving him restless and unbalanced, unsure of how to act.
“You had a good game,” Noah says, hoping he can avoid Alex complimenting him if he does it first. “Keep any of the hats?”
“Yeah, can never have too many.”
Noah turns back to the ice as his traitorous mouth twitches in a smile. “Of course.”
“Even found a Canadian one in the mix.”
Noah snorts. “Sure you did.”
“Look.”
Noah does, right in time to catch the black cap Alex was wearing moments before. Noah flips the cap over to find the Hockey Canada logo and absolutely doesn’t laugh. “So much for team loyalty.”
“We’ve learned a valuable lesson here tonight.”
Noah can’t help himself. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Hatties outrank patriotism.”
Alex’s smile is sunshine bright and if this were Julien, Noah might even smile back. But Noah refuses to let his guard down around Alex, no matter how tempting he always makes it. He and Alex aren’t friends. They never will be.
With nothing more to say, the silence stretches between them. Then Alex stands and taps Noah’s forearm. “Keep the hat.”
Noah meets Alex’s gaze. His smile is soft, guarded maybe.
He attempts his most winning smile; he’s certain it falls flat. “If we meet in the final—you’re going to lose.”
Alex walks down the row backward, grin turning sly. “Better wish for it when you blow those candles out tonight, then.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t need to.”
Alex tips his head back in a loud, honking laugh. Despite how ridiculous he sounds, Noah has to push down the warm flutter in his chest—hopefully for good this time.
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