She’s already batting her eyelashes and playing it up. “Any luck finding your mystery girl?”
Oh God, not again.
Sending that message was amazing because it brought our girl out of hiding, but we’ve been swerving a ton of randos, claiming to be her when they’re so obviously not. Including Sadie.
“We did actually,” I say proudly, hooking my thumbs in the straps of my backpack. “Thanks for checking. Anyway, bye.”
I stride away, but she follows.
“Are you sure you have the right girl? How can you be so sure?”
“I’d bet my life on it. So … I think I’m pretty sure,” I argue. “Goodbye, Sadie.”
She fades back, eventually shrinking into the swell of passing students, and I continue on my way toward Lovelace Hall for my programming class.
Will I ever go into a career with this degree? No, probably not—hopefullynot because that would mean my hockey career had failed.
But I’m enjoying my time in college, both for hockey and academics. Most of us HEAU hockey players could go professional right now, but we are choosing to stay back and play together. The pro league will be there when our mission here is done.
My phone chimes and I pull it out, a smile taking over my face.
Princess: Hi, handsome.
Hey, baby.
Princess: What are you up to today?
Got a class in a minute. Then getting ready for the game tonight.
Princess: Ooh, I know you guys look good in a suit.
You’d look even better in my jersey.
Princess: I bet I would too. ;)
I’ll get you one right fucking now.
But you have to come to our game.
Princess: You know I can’t yet.
How about the next game?
Princess: When is it?
Tuesday.
Princess: Hmm. I’ll see what I can do.
I’m going to get you a jersey anyway.
Princess: I’d love that.
And I’d love seeing you in it. ;)
We’re having a party tomorrow …
Princess: And? What’s that have to do with me?
