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    Summary

    "It's nice to meet you officially, Rozanov," he emphasizes. He sucks in a breath, braces himself, holds his hand out again, hopes he isn't too revealing with what he says next. "You're an awesome player to watch."

    Shane watches his face carefully, as Rozanov's eyes widen the slightest bit- surprise. Surprise? It's there and gone in a split second, replaced with a small quirk of his lips, but it's the most genuine he's looked throughout their entire interaction. It gets bigger as he takes his hand again, grip no less firm, but more respectful somehow. Shane watches as his eyes quickly trail down his body and back up, feels something in his stomach light up, before they meet eyes again. His eyes look mischievous, twinkling under the harsh lights.

    "You are as well," he says, winks again, and joins another player at the food table.

     

    Or: Shane Hollander loves hockey. He thinks he could bring himself to like Ilya Rozanov, too.

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