I’m fine.
You gave away four turnovers tonight.
I was having an off game.
You’ve been having an off week. Since Saturday.
It’s not about Saturday.
Right. And I’m secretly a figure skater.
That would explain your pirouettes during power plays.
Don’t deflect. What happened with Golda?
I consider lying, but what’s the point? The entire team probably knows I’m having some kind of breakdown by now.
She rejected me.
Rejected you how?
I tried to kiss her. She turned her head.
That blows.
Thanks for the sympathy.
Dude, did you consider that maybe she’s just not ready?
Ready for what?
For anything. She’s got kids, a crazy ex, a whole life she’s trying to protect. Maybe she likes you but needs more time.
How much more time?
However much time it takes. You can’t put a deadline on trust.
I don’t know how to do this.
Do what?
Wait. Be patient. Not know where I stand.
Welcome to real relationships. They’re not like hookups where everything’s clear upfront.
This sucks.
Yeah, but if she’s worth it, then it’s worth it.
I try to sleep, but my brain won’t shut up. Every time I close my eyes, I see that moment when she pulled away, the confusion and hurt and something that looked like disappointment in her face.
Maybe I misread the whole night. Maybe the connection I felt was one-sided. Maybe she was just being polite and I pushed too hard, too fast.
Or maybe Elliot’s right, and I need to stop thinking like a guy who’s used to getting what he wants immediately and start thinking like someone who actually cares about the outcome.
The next morning,we have a team breakfast that I attend mostly to avoid the questions I’d get for skipping it. Rodriguez immediately starts analyzing my performance from the night before with the enthusiasm of a color commentator.
“That turnover in the second period,” he says around a mouthful of pancakes, “was like watching a master class in how not to play hockey.”
