Chapter Text
"Clara Marchand? Dude… what's she like?"
Shane was strapping on his pads. Evesdropping on his teammates' rapid french. Trying to blend in. He was new to the Saguenées, billeted with an older couple, the Bouchards, retired and bored. Their son had flamed out in the AHL a decade before, then became an agent. Shane was pretty sure Michel Bouchard was going to be disappointed when he learned that Shane's mom was his agent, but that wasn't Shane's problem.
His main problems at that moment were meshing with the rest of his line and not saying anything too stupid in French.
"She's great, man. Hilarious. You wouldn't believe how much she knows about The Simpsons."
The d-man who'd asked the question laughed. Fortin, Shane thought. Alain Fortin, paired with Bernard Dubé on the second line. Aging out. Undrafted.
"Dude, you haven't gotten her in the sack yet? Tits like those?"
Shane suddenly felt like he shouldn't be eavesdropping. He'd been studying French since he was six, and he'd just finished a three week immersive French camp, so he was pretty confident he was understanding what they were saying, but he wished suddenly that he could plead his anglo ignorance. Fortin was talking to Shane's left wing, Luc Roberts. A town boy, but a strong skater. He'd probably get drafted at the end of next year with Shane, AHL at least, Shane thought. If they meshed, if they got the right kind of play.
"She's just a friend."
"Fuck, bro, you gay, or just blind?"
Shane stood to pull up his pants. Roberts rolled his eyes. "She's not my type, dude."
"Clara Marchand is everybody's type. Those lips? Those tits? Fuck."
Shane was frozen looking at them, halfway suited up. Then Fortin looked at him, "What do you think, Hollzy? Clara Marchand? Dream fuck or just friends?"
Shane felt his tongue fill up his mouth, "I…uh, I don't…"
"Leave him alone, Fortin. He got here a week ago," their captain, Daniel O'Polka, shoulder checked Shane, then said, in English, low enough that only Shane could hear, "But yeah, the first girl you pop one for in town? That's gonna be Clara."
Rose calls him the night before her premiere. It's not the X-Squad movie, it's something indie she did last year.
"Someone's gonna ask where you are," she says, smoothing gel masks under her eyes.
"And you'll say: in Seattle, working."
"Shane." She's tilting her face down, trying to get him to be serious. The effect is slightly ruined by the tape she's halfway through applying to her temples.
"What?"
"It's a good time for me to say we aren't together anymore."
"I know," he admits.
"Is that okay with you?"
He doesn't say anything right away. It's…he knows he has to say yes at some point. But now?
He thinks about his schedule for the next three months. The All Stars Game sitting right there in the middle of it. Him and Rozanov on the same roster. How Rose's Wikipedia page says she's in a relationship with him, and his says he's in a relationship with her. How far the distance is between that and anything real, anything true that he could have.
How far between him and Ilya.
"Yes."
She smiles, nods just a little bit. "Ok." She reaches in front of her, picks up some kind of miniature green rolling pin. "Do you use one of these?"
The door lock beeps, and Hayden walks through.
Rose rolls the green thing up her cheek. "It feels amazing," she says, and Hayden stops mid-stride, pivots back towards the door.
"No, Hayd, it's fine." Shane says quickly, and he sees as Hayden realizes that Shane is fully dressed and the lights in the room are all on. Hayden walks the rest of the way into the room. "Rose can tell us both about how to get red carpet ready."
"Pretty sure you're the only one who's going to need that, bud." Hayden says, but he leans in to wave hello to Rose.
"Not if I have any say in it," Rose says. "Shane and I decided we're better as friends, so I'm back on the hunt for arm candy."
"Oh," he says "Bummer. Jackie had the double date all planned."
"Tell her to make it a girls night and I'm definitely still in. Shane can babysit."
She waves the rolling pin at the camera. "I'm sending you one of these," she says. "You have such good skin, all you need is like, a two step routine."
Hayden rolls his eyes as he pulls his sweats out of his suitcase.
"Hey, I gotta go," Shane says. "Good luck tomorrow."
"You too." Rose blows him a kiss before she hangs up.
Hayden lets the silence hang for about half a minute before he says, "I know you're a good guy, Shay, but you don't have to torture yourself like this."
"What?"
"It's okay to say you'll stay friends when a girl breaks up with you and then just…not. They get it."
Shane's throat seizes up. His tongue feels three times it's usual size. He remembers the way Fortin taunted Roberts after Dubé took Clara to her homecoming dance. How Fortin started to mutter "Roberts incoming" in the showers after practice, and everyone turned to face the wall. How things got more and more uncomfortable up until they all saw Roberts wheeling a cougar at one of their away games, and she dropped him off at the bus the next morning with an uncomfortably handsy kiss. Then, all of a sudden, Fortin was fine with Roberts again.
But Hayden isn't Alain Fortin. And if Shane can't trust Hayden, there's no hope at all.
"She didn't break up with me. It was really…mutual."
"Mutual. Huh." Hayden sits down on his bed and strips off his socks. "Schedule stuff?"
"We just…" he tries to think of what to say. How to say something true, even if it's not the whole truth. "We just weren't compatible."
"Damn. Sucks man. She's so hot." Hayden goes into the bathroom, loads up his toothbrush. "Same thing happened with my first girlfriend, in juniors. Sandra. Thought I was gonna marry her, then, pfft." He makes some kind of dive-bombing gesture with his hand before he starts brushing his teeth.
Shane, sitting on his bed, phone clenched in his hand, starts breathing again. He flicks open his calendar, scrolls to January. Closes it again.