ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE

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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE

ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE

@ICEDHOLLANDER

holy shit โ€” i love you too .

21 + ๐Ÿ’ mdni ๊ฐ€์ž…์ผ Haziran 2022
70 ํŒ”๋กœ์ž‰81 ํŒ”๋กœ์›Œ
ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE ๋ฆฌํŠธ์œ—ํ•จ
แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… โŠน เฃชแ… แ… แ… แ… โธยน .แŸ แ… แ… แ… แ… 
๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐š ฬต๐ฬต๐‹ฬต๐€ฬต๐‚ฬต๐„ฬต ฬต ๐—๐—๐–พ๐—‹๐–พ ๐—‚ ๐–ฝ๐—ˆ๐—‡'๐— ๐–ฟ๐–พ๐–พ๐—… ( ฬต๐™ฐฬตอŸ๐™ปฬตอŸ๐™พฬตอŸ๐™ฝฬตอŸ๐™ดฬต )*; ๐š๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š’๐šœ ๐šŠ ฬต๐ฬต๐‹ฬต๐€ฬต๐‚ฬต๐„ฬต ๐—๐—๐–พ๐—‹๐–พ ๐—‚ ๐–ฟ๐–พ๐–พ๐—… ๐–บ๐— ( ฬต๐‡ฬตอŸ๐ŽฬตอŸ๐ŒฬตอŸ๐„ฬต ) *โ€ข.
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
Just before the Boston/Montreal game, a snowstorm strands both teams at O'Hare. Heโ€™s settled in a corner with headphones and pop music. He was stuck here for 6 more hours. Wow. And thenโ€”@EsteemedPlayer dropped into the seat across from him. Of course. โ€œโ€ฆRoz. What do you want?โ€
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
+ locker, not looking at Atlas, giving the rookie space to breathe. He grabbed his personal kit: compression wrap, topical gel, ice packs. Things heโ€™d learned to hoard. โ€œSit,โ€ he said, gesturing to the bench against the far wall. โ€œIt wonโ€™t take long. I promise.โ€
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
His fingers stilled on the tape, and he studied Atlas through the low light. โ€œTeam medics,โ€ he repeated, the words soft. โ€œTheyโ€™re good. But theyโ€™re also paid to get you back on the ice.โ€ He scoffed, a derisive sound. โ€œThey didnโ€™t do shit. Look at you.โ€ He stood, moving to his +
แ…  แ…  แ…  แ…  แ…  แ…  แ… แ…  ๐–†๐–™๐–‘๐–†๐–˜แ…  โœฉ@gcldnbcy

just got through with the team medics. โ€ a small lie. they only checked to make sure he didnโ€™t have a concussion and advised him to go see the team doctor tomorrow for his elbow.

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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
+ Just then, through the haze of worry, he felt the sting. A burning line of fire across his thumb. He glanced down. Blood trickled down the pad where his hand had caught the metal corner of a vent. Not deep. Just a paper cut. โ€œShitโ€”umโ€ฆ Do you have bandaids? Anything?โ€
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
His body reacted before he fully registered the impact. He caught himself with one hand against the wall, the other instinctively rising to steady the person heโ€™d hit. โ€œOh noโ€”Iโ€™m fine,โ€ he said, the words spilling out in a panicked heap. โ€œYou? Are you okay? It was my fault, Iโ€”โ€ +
(ใฃโ—”โ—กโ—”)ใฃ โ™ฅ Harris Drover โ™ฅ ๐Ÿณ๏ธโ€๐ŸŒˆ@Savant_SMM

[Shane Hollander, he knew exactly who he was.] "I'm Harris, it's nice to meet you. Are you ok?" [States in a soft, yet friendly manner. Glancing over toward him in concern.]

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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
+ He tried again, forcing authority into his tone that he really didnโ€™t feel. "Stay on your side. You donโ€™t need toโ€”" What? Test me? Push me? Make me want things I can't have? "โ€”to crowd." He swallowed hard, trying to regain control. "What are you trying to prove, Rozanov?"
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
Bullshit. The lie was obvious. Shaneโ€™s fingers balled into fists at his sides. He could feel his pulse in his throat, in places he absolutely should not be feeling blood rush right now. He was sure the tent in his pants was obscene by now. "Justโ€”Iโ€”fuckโ€ฆ" He started, stopped. +
แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… โŠน เฃชแ… แ… แ… แ… โธยน .แŸ แ… แ… แ… แ… @centrepucks

++ ( predatory ). โ€œIs not like Iโ€™m going to try anything. . .โ€ A feign tone, because he was lying โ€” and heโ€™d test the waters to see however long itโ€™d take for Montrealโ€™s โ€˜perfect boyโ€™ to ( break ).

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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE ๋ฆฌํŠธ์œ—ํ•จ
๐˜™๐˜ฐ๐˜ป๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท
๐—œ๐—น๐˜†๐—ฎ ๐—ฅ๐—ผ๐˜‡๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ผ๐˜ƒ โ‚ˆโ‚ NHL ๐ถ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘–๐‘› " ๐š๐šž๐šœ๐šœ๐š’๐šŠ๐š—๐šœ ๐š๐š˜ ๐š—๐š˜๐š ๐š๐š˜ ๐š๐š‘๐š’๐šœ."
๐˜™๐˜ฐ๐˜ป๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท tweet media๐˜™๐˜ฐ๐˜ป๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท tweet media
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
The locker room had been emptied hours ago. Shane sat on a stool, taping his stick after the game. The door creaked. When he lifted his gaze, @gcldnbcy stood frozen in the doorway, visor cracked, elbow guarded. โ€œHurt?โ€ He gave a soft smile. โ€œWhat happened? I have first aid.โ€
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
The Montreal Voyageurs PR team arranged a mandatory photoshoot. Bright lights buzzed in the backroom, overwhelming Shane as he stood sore from a 3โ€“2 loss to Boston. โ€œMr. Hollander, this is @JUSTYOURBRAT, your stylist,โ€ He nodded, and extended his hand, palms clammy. โ€œUh, hiโ€ฆโ€
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE ๋ฆฌํŠธ์œ—ํ•จ
๐‹๐š๐ง๐๐จ. โ—Œ โƒ˜ ๐“ˆ’
โ€”โ€”โญโœจ๐Ÿ†โ€”โ€” ๐„๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ž ๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ž๐ซโ€™๐ฌ ๐๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ฆ. ๐‚๐š๐งโ€™๐ญ ๐›๐ž๐ฅ๐ข๐ž๐ฏ๐ž ๐ˆ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ข๐ญ.
๐‹๐š๐ง๐๐จ. โ—Œ โƒ˜ ๐“ˆ’ tweet media๐‹๐š๐ง๐๐จ. โ—Œ โƒ˜ ๐“ˆ’ tweet media
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
Tonightโ€™s loss to Ottawa had been a one-goal nightmare. His jaw ticked as he climbed the stairs to the press box. When he rounded the corner, he collided with someone backing out of the media lounge. โ€œShit, sorry! Are youโ€”โ€ He stalled, registering the lanyardโ€™s name: @Savant_SMM
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
+ thud against his ribs that betrayed the calm he was trying to show. His hand instinctively rose to tug down the hem of his shirt. It was embarrassing. It was intoxicating. โ€œI'm not angry. Itโ€™s just hot in here. And your cologne isnโ€™t helping.โ€ His voice trembled pathetically.
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
The amber light turned Ilya's hair the color of gold, and Shane hated that he noticed. Hated the way his eyes seemed to glow in the low light with an intensity that made his throat close up. It was making his tailored trousers feel uncomfortably tight. His heart raced, a +
แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… โŠน เฃชแ… แ… แ… แ… โธยน .แŸ แ… แ… แ… แ… @centrepucks

++ โ€œI did nothing but stand here. Unless there is law saying I canโ€™t speak, then I speak.โ€ He was curious why it bothered Shane to his core. Tempted to start walking to him.

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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
+ voice crackled through the speakers. โ€œTechnicians en route. Estimated time: 45 to 60 minutes.โ€ His eyes closed for one second. 60 minutes in a metal box with Ilya Rozanov. The sponsorship meeting started in 20. Fuck. He reluctantly turned. โ€œShut up. Donโ€™t even talk.โ€
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ยฒโด หš ๐–จ‚ ๐’HANE
His fingers found the emergency panel before Ilya finished speaking. He pressed the call button, and waited. Sweat traced down his temple, and he didnโ€™t know if it was the climbing temperature or the fact he was trapped in here alone with Ilya Rozanov. Finally, a staticky +
แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… โŠน เฃชแ… แ… แ… แ… โธยน .แŸ แ… แ… แ… แ… @centrepucks

@ICEDHOLLANDER ++ gutter. His gaze flickered around them, widening a little at the elevatorโ€™s sudden malfunction. Shit. They were going to be late. โ€œIs okay,โ€ Ilya assured, staying his distance for the time being. โ€œMaybe we call for help.โ€

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