Page 91 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

"Oh, we’re so over it," he says. "So… you want to hear about my story at the sex club?"

"Yes.”

“And then you’re telling me something."

"Yeah. I’ll tell you something that no one else knows."

"Okay, then."

"Well, this was about five years ago, and I was dating this one woman, and she invited me to go to a club called Excess…"

I listen to him as he continues talking, and there’s a smile on my face. I’m not even jealous hearing him talk about another woman and the crazy things he got up to. I just feel comforted. I just feel connected to him. I lie in bed and just listen to his voice, him telling me stories, and he laughs, and I laugh, and it just feels nice.

It feels really, really nice.

And I suddenly realize that it doesn’t matter if he’s my soulmate or not. It doesn’t matter if we’re truly in love or not. All that matters is that we’re sharing this moment.

Maybe that is the lesson I had to learn in life—not to overthink things. Just to take things as they came.

Because who knows what is going to happen?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tyler

“You're an hour late, Tyler,” Coach shouts at me as I exit the locker room and head to the ice. “What the fuck is going on? You know tomorrow is the most important game of your life, and you’re fucking around?”

“Look, I'm sorry,” I say, stifling a yawn.

I should be mad at myself. I should be upset. I should take what Coach is saying to heart. But I don't care. I stayed up until four o’clock in the morning chatting with Erica on the phone—and it felt amazing. Her voice is sweet, and I feel like I know her in ways I never imagined. And she knows me.

We talked about our favorite TV shows, our favorite movies, our favorite books, our dream destinations to travel to. We talked about our fears. We talked about movies that had scared us, movies that had made us cry. We talked about what animal we would be, our favorite foods, the foods we hated, our best friends in childhood—the ones that had made us feel like we weren’t good enough.

We talked about everything and anything, and I didn’t even think about hockey once.

Of course, she reminded me that I needed to get off the phone, but I didn’t want to. All I wanted was to hold her in my arms. But talking to her on the phone was just as good—hearing her voice in my ear. It was lyrical. It was sweet. She had the voice of an angel.

And yet I knew I was going to pay for it. Today.

“Do you not give a fuck about this team, Tyler?” Coach says to me. “Hey, guys, come over here!”

He calls everyone from the ice, and they all skate over to me. He looks at me and then at them.

“Does anyone think we need Tyler here in the game to win tomorrow? Should I sit him out?”

I know he’s trying to prove a point, trying to say that I’m expendable—and I most likely am. I’m not the only hockey player in the world, and I’m certainly not the best. I’m skilled, I’m fast, and I think quickly. That’s a skill that’s helped me. But I’m not the only guy who can do what I do.

“If you think that’s what’s best for the team, Coach,” I say.

He glares at me. That’s not the answer he wants to hear.

Elliot is staring at me. There’s murder in his eyes, and I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he always knew—from the first time he saw us together—that there was something between us.

Of course, I wouldn’t ask him that. I didn’t want to make him angrier than he already was. Not that I cared. He deserved everything that he got. He was a jerk. And when I protected Erica from him, it wasn’t because I wanted her. It was because I didn’t want her to be assaulted or put in a bad position because she was with him.

I didn’t trust Elliot. I didn’t trust that he knew how to stop when a woman said no.

“So you want to sit out then, Tyler? Is that what I’m hearing?”