Without a beat of hesitation, I stand to my feet and back up until my butt hits the wall or equipment or anything that finds me.
All I care about is that I get as far away from him as I can. Because I know exactly who he is, which makes this all the more inappropriate.
“Oh God you’re Matt MacArthur,” I groan, watching him stare at me with furrowed brows and wide eyes, like I’m a wild animal. “I can’t believe that just happened. Oh myGod. You shouldn’t have come in here.”
He pushes to his feet, brushing off his pants, a ghost of a smile finding his lips. “Well, this is usuallymyroom that I go to when I need to get away. I just wasn’t prepared to find someone else stealing my secret place.”
“Stealing?” I scoff, immediately arguing. “It was unlocked!”
He holds his hands up as he smiles. “I’m just kidding. You’re welcome to it anytime,” he offers, but I’m hoping to once again avoid this arena like my life depends on it.
“Thank you. But I don’t think that will be necessary.” I glance down, noticing the wet spots on my slacks from my tears, and then I see my makeup smeared on his clothing. Ugh. “Fuck. I’m sorry about your suit. I’ll have it dry-cleaned?—”
“Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I could probably just sell it to some creep on eBay.” He chuckles.
“Okay, gross. But it’s also fair.” I giggle, wanting to smack myself in the face for letting that laugh through.
A seriousness pulls at his features. “What’re you doing here anyway?” he asks genuinely, and I drag my hand down my face.
“I was being brought on as a new goalie coach for, uhh … your team,” I tell him, the words painful to get out. How am I supposed to coach anyone in this position?
I half expect him to laugh or ask me if I’m joking, but instead, his face lights up, a smile tipping his lips.
“That’s great. You’d make a great goalie coach for me, Huang, and Roberts. I’m not surprised they asked you at all.”
“Really?” I scoff with disgust. “You can see howswellthat’s going so far. I’m pretty sure the player”—I gesture to him—“isn’t supposed to comfort the coach.”
His lips turn down, and he shakes his head and takes a step toward me. My stupid self wants nothing more than to feel the warmth of his arms again.
“Look, we’d be lucky to have you.Iwould be lucky to have you as a coach. Are you kidding? You’re a damn legend, Rooney.”
I swallow the emotion rising back up. Something about his proximity makes me feel like someone injected me with truth serum. “I couldn’t even get on the ice.”
He shrugs as if that doesn’t even matter. “You don’t need to be on the ice until you’re ready. I know damn well you’d elevate our game by watching from just the nosebleeds. You’re on another level. Don’t forget that. You’d likely outplay me any day of the week.”
I know he’s trying to lighten the mood and brighten my spirits, and part of me hates that it’s working. “Yeah, probably.”
He smirks, his eyelids lowering to a challenging gleam. “Ehh. We’ll see. One of these days, we’ll put it to the test, huh?”
I know it’s an impossible thing to guarantee, but maybe it’ll help push me. Or this is just another dumb decision I’m making. “Deal.”
“Deal,” he murmurs, his smile shifting to a devilish smirk. “Also … ‘Hollaback Girl’?”
My cheeks catch fire, and my eyes slam shut before finding his humorous stare again. “We’re not discussing that.”
He raises his hands in defeat. “All right, all right. Fine. But”—he bites down on his smile—“I want your version in my pregame playlist.”
“I think I hate you,” I groan.
He sets his laugh free. “Nah, impossible.”
After the humor dies out a second later, I say a quick goodbye, ready to crawl in a hole forever. “Good luck out there. You shouldn’t need it though. You’ll be good,” I assure him, having read over the Eagles playsheet Andy sent me. Matt is well matched for their game.
“You too,” he says.
My eyebrows twitch hearing him say that, but I ignore the insecurity rising in me and stride past him to the door.
“See you later, Coach.”
