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I look from him to my very blank page of paper and then back at him. “I did. Do you want them?” I rip the paper from the notebook and hand it to him. I’m up and out of my seat before he can say anything to me.
I see Jude in the hall, coming toward me. “Hey, we’re gonna be late.”
“For what?”
“We have a Blue Line luncheon today.”
Shit. I fall in step next to Jude. It’s unlike me to forget about events where the hockey team has to make an appearance. “Did Coach remind us this morning?”
“Yes,” Jude says.
Double shit. I rub my hand over my face to clear the cobwebs. As much as it’s going to pain me to have this conversation with Thea, it has to happen sooner rather than later. I can’t afford to mess up.
Jude and I make our way to the fieldhouse. Inside there are tables lined up for us to sit and eat. We find our table, which donors of the Blue Line Club surround. Most people are former hockey players, a hockey player's family, or people from the community who love supporting athletes. However, you get the occasional man who never made it as a player, which is a way of staying relevant. Anytime the Club sponsors an event, we must attend or at least make an appearance.
We shake hands and shoot the shit with the folks from the Club, and then we sit down at our table. I can’t believe I forgot about this. I text Thea, letting her know I can’t join her for lunch, and she tells me no problem. I think it’s a problem because I want to see her.
The rest of the guys and the girls' team show up, and the place gets loud. The members of the Blue Line Club tell us the same stories we’ve heard before. Yet, we sit and listen, ask questions, and make everyone happy because they donate a crap-ton of money to the program.
Between eating and listening to the old-timer sitting across from me, the chair next to me moves. I smell her perfume before I lay my eyes on her. Thea’s hand rests on my leg, and without thinking, I push my leg toward hers. Then, when there’s a break in the conversation, I glance toward her.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been out in the lobby, hanging out. I saw Jude leave, so I thought I’d come in and say hi.”
“Hi,” I say to her quietly. I want to kiss her but know it can never happen.
“Hi,” she says back.
We sit like this for a few minutes, with her watching as I finish my conversation. When it’s over, Thea and I excuse ourselves and head toward the door. I step away from her when I see Jude, and she continues to walk by and heads for the bathroom. I think we’re in the clear, but Jude stops and eyes us both. Fuck.
“Hey, can I talk to you?” I motion toward a conference room which athletes can use to study. He nods and follows me.
As soon as he closes the door, he asks, “What’s going on with you and my sister?”
“I like her,” I say, cutting to the chase. “I like her a lot, actually. But, if you tell me to stay away, I will.”
Jude stands there, appraising me. The silence is almost too much to take. He comes closer. Chest to chest. He’s fuming. “How long have you been screwing her?”
“We’re not having sex, Jude. She’s not some fling or someone I’m going to toss out in the morning. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
“You’re my best friend, Ky. But your life?—”
“It’s messy. I know. And she knows. Thea knows everything. I’m not keeping secrets from her.”
“What about the chick you hooked-up with over Thanksgiving break?”
I shake my head. “There was no hook-up. She brought me home because I was too drunk to drive. We didn’t do anything. Not even kiss. And Thea knows this.”
“Mhm . . .”
“I swear to you, Jude. What I feel for Thea, I have never felt before. But if you tell me to stay away from her, I will.”
He nods and steps away. “If you hurt my sister, I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you. Best friend or not.”
“If I hurt her, I’ll stand there and take the beating.”
“Just . . .” Jude pauses and then looks at me. He grimaces. “I don’t want to hear you having sex.”
