I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the support, I guess. But I picked him because he's clearly experienced. I overheard two puck bunnies comparing notes." I make a face. "Ugh, I grossed myself out."
"Were they talking about his giant cock?"
"What the hell?!" I glance behind us. "Jesus."
"What? I have a little thing called the internet and it says he's packing heat and he knows how to use it."
"That's disgusting."
"Well, it has to be pretty impressive to wow you. You have Thorne saved in your phone as ‘Hockey Satan’."
I snort. "I do."
She stands up, tugging my arm. "Come on."
"Where?"
"To see if Hockey Satan is here." She arches her brows, not giving up as I try to weigh myself down.
"Jeez, let me grab my drink," I grumble. "And just so you're aware, I haven't decided to tell him yet."
Indie stops, then reverses back to the bar. She waves down Olivier. "Can we get four shots of something strong, but tasty?"
Olivier crooks a smile. "Coming right up."
He assembles tequila, pineapple juice, and habanero peppers, then shakes and strains them into four shot glasses. When he pushes them across the counter, he says, "Et voilà."
"You are a darling angel face and we don't deserve you." Indie turns to me. "One for courage, one for good luck."
"You're trying to get me hammered!"
"Mollie, I fucking love you." She hands me a shot glass. "And I'm trying to make you tipsy enough to let go a little. You're so uptight."
"And uptight girls don't get picked for the ball?"
"Drink your shot, weirdo."
The first shot is strong and hot, but surprisingly fruity. We clink shot glasses for good luck before downing the second one, and it makes my eyes burn.
With that, Indie starts towing me into the back room. The place is packed now. We slip into the back room, which has people jammed into booths and at tables, and Mitch working the small back bar.
"What is going on? It's so busy tonight!"
A guy I've never seen overhears me and answers, shouting to be heard over the crowd. "World Cup! It's the US versus Argentina tonight."
"And that's... soccer?" I ask, scrunching my nose. Whoops, I'm starting to feel the shots now. I giggle.
The man gives me a look like I just stepped on his foot. Indie pulls me toward the booths.
"The Seattle men's soccer team is here. I recognize some of the players." She lifts her brows and inclines her head toward a booth. "And there's the Havoc. Dunno where the rest of the team is, but there's the Huxley brothers, their ladies, and Hockey Satan."
Thorne glances my way, but doesn't see me. It's ultra packed in here and the owners have put out the flat-screen TVs they keep here for special events.
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea—" I turn to find Indie brushing her hair behind her ear and beaming at a handsome stranger. Great. Maybe I should go back to the main bar.
"Hey. Are you here to see the football match?"
I turn and look into the eyes of a very good-looking guy with dark hair and a heavy accent. He smiles at me when I blush.
