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Shane’s just out of the showers after practice when it happens.
‘Hollzy - Hollzy! Never knew you were such an amazing actor! But now we know the truth!’
Fear slithered down Shane’s spine like ice.
‘The truth about what?’ Fixing his face into good natured confusion, Shane towelled off his hair, careful to keep his suddenly shaky hands from view.
Hayden grinned, slinging his arm over Shane’s shoulders. ‘You and Rosanov.’
Shane didn’t let his eyes widen, or his fists clench the way the sudden hole in his chest wanted him to.
‘Me - and Rosanov…?’
The ice spread, cold terror racing through his veins. What had Hayden seen?
‘Man, I forgot how much of a baby face you had Hollzy.' Hayden ruffled his hair. ‘Nothing like you now, old man.’
Shane blinked. Was it-no. ‘What baby face?’
‘That sweet cherub cheeked rookie who charmed the whole world by being a good Canadian mama’s boy.’ Hayden thrust his phone forward, the tinny speaker blaring.
Shane sank into his stall as the video playing on the screen became clear, relief flooding suddenly weak knees.
Centre ice. Floodlights. CCM. His first ad campaign.
Shane could hear the shoot director’s exasperated tones still. Guys, we need more intensity. Look him in the eyes Rozanov, really stare - yes, I know it’s been a long day. Okay, okay. Try again. No laughing this time.
Ilya, beautiful and blonde and achingly unburdened, impossible to stop giggling once he started, the advert’s manufactured emotion too much to contain.
Shane, stoic and shy and stilted, until Iya’s glee bouncing off the ice pushed him, too, into reluctant giggles that only got worse and worse the more the director pleaded with them to Stop and be serious. It’s a rivalry, boys, not a comedy show! Focus - you’re coming for each other-
Shane snorted.
That was Ilya, all over. Taking the things that came most naturally to Shane and turning them inside out, all with that cocky, infuriating smirk on his face.
He groaned as the video played take after take of the two of them rushing up to slap their sticks down on the ice. Again and again the camera zoomed in, bringing into greater detail the desperate struggle on both their struggling faces, trying to stop their mirth from escaping.
Lips trembled, shoulders shook, eyes crinkled. All to no avail as clip after clip showed the two rookies skating like their lives depended on it, sticks slamming down on the ice - that brief, electric second where their eyes met - before collapsing in giggles, ruining the shot and prompting a weary Alright. One more take.
The video faded to black after a final shot of the director, hands on hips, glaring at Shane and Ilya as they cracked up on the ice, barely able to stand.
Shane’s lips curved.
‘Cute, right?’ Hayden said.
‘It was stupid.’
Hayden poked Shane in the shoulder. ‘Look at you two! Baby’s first rivalry and you couldn’t take it seriously, Shane.’
Shane snorted, Hayden’s words an echo of his mother’s complaints.
‘I didn’t know they kept all of this,’ he said.
Hayden shrugged. ‘Someone must’ve. Probably thought it would make a great YouTube video when you were famous and mortal enemies.’
‘Yeah.’ Shane sighed, and handed him the phone back. ‘Guess they were right.’
It really was - sweet. In a way. Shot after shot of two young players, nerves falling away until the absurdity of the situation overwhelmed them. Millions of dollars, millions of fans, millions of stories that would never truly capture Hollander and Rozanov. Or Rozanov and Hollander. Or Shane, and Ilya; Ilya and Shane.
He shook off the thoughts, glanced at his few remaining team mates all changing to go home.
‘Send me that link, will you Hayden? My dad would love it.’
‘Sure thing bud. You know, it’s pretty popular already. ESPN picked it up.’ Hayden rolled his eyes at Shane’s reflexive grimace. ‘Price of being the big star, Hollzy, suck it up. Not all of us get Rolex money, you know.’
Shane finished dressing and shoved him, grabbing his bag to leave.
‘Thanks Hayds. See you tomorrow.’
The air in the parking lot was crisp, fresh after the muggy heat of the post practice locker room. Shane inhaled, letting the bite of it sink into his lungs and wash out the lingering uneasiness Hayden’s initial greeting left behind.
Bizarre to think that shoot was seven years ago. Both a lifetime ago and only yesterday. But the instinct to hide, to run, to deflect anytime Ilya’s name came up - that dogged him every minute of every day.
All too soon, they’d meet again on the ice. The All Star game was only two days away - god, he still had to pack, to update the cleaning service he’d be away, send over his latest results to the team doctors, book his parents a nice restaurant for their anniversary - a dozen other, more pressing things to remember.
But it was nice, to look back a little. Sometimes.
He knew more about himself now. Knew - some - more about Ilya. Could remember that they’d always made each other laugh, right from the start. That they’d been just kids, not rivals. Been swept up together in the great hockey narrative, chewed up, spat back out in the most profitable, marketable form.
They weren’t the League’s narrative.
Last time, at Ilya’s… that wasn’t rivalry.
Shane didn’t know what it was, exactly. That frisson of… something, every time he locked eyes with Ilya. The way his thoughts drifted to Ilya, inevitably, every time he thought of the future. The way a whiff of vodka or cigarette smoke made him smile. That strange hollowness at night, when the sheets felt so empty and Shane’s skin missed the sweaty press of their slowly cooling bodies.
Perhaps it's time to find out.