Page 126 of Make Me Laugh

Parker is written across the back with my old jersey number. It’s not my middle name that makes me grimace. Actually, that might be the only thing I appreciate about it. The gods of Michigan hockey might smite me if Isakson was there instead.

I won’t be caught dead in Ohio anything—I don’t care how much the suite costs. I’ll pay for it if they expect me to get a picture in that… thing.

“Oh,” I breathe, trying to be nice despite the look I can’t remove from my face.

The woman in the suit laughs. “You said he’d hate it, but I at least expected him to try to hide it.”

“You underestimate the Ohio hatred coursing through his veins,” Kell says, reaching out to take the jersey for me. “The fact he’s even in this building right now is astonishing.” It’s stupid, I know, but I don’t even want to touch it, and Kell knows that.

Suits leaves, and I turn to Joey when Kell goes to find more food, noticing the jersey cradled in the crook of her elbow. “So help me god, if I ever see you in that…” I trail off.

She’s been in her head this week, and as much as I want to know what it’s about, we’ve both been so busy I’m trying to brush it off as stress and exhaustion.

We’re still pretending not to be fucking behind our friend’s backs, so I keep my distance, but I don’t think we’ve been fooling a single one of them since this blew up.

“You gonna rip it off me?” she asks softly enough only I can hear, looking at me like she’s hoping I’ll say yes.

I chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest and focusing on the end of the game. Columbus has got the win in the bag, having given the Toronto Torrents a run for their money all night. “Yeah, Joey baby, and then I’ll edge you until you’re begging me to let you come.” She’s well aware I’m happy to hold out for as long as I need.

A dark look crosses her face, reminding me who it is I’m threatening with my idea of a good time. “Promise?”

I throw an arm over her shoulders and pull her into my side, making sure it looks casual and friendly. The smell of her perfume hits me like a freight train, and I inhale as I bring my lips to her ear, letting Joey cloud all my senses at once. “How long do you think you can go before you come without me having to even touch you? Hours? Minutes? Surely not seconds…”

She shivers, and the buzzer announces the end of the game. Cobra fans get loud, the rattle of the team’s winning song blaring through the speakers. I reluctantly let my arm fall away, winking before I cross the room to Enzo, filling him in on the night’s plans.

Someone eventually comes to get us, and Joey tries to avoid eye contact with me at all costs, but this isn’t the cold shoulder I hate getting from her. This is fun silent treatment, a cat and mouse game where for once, Joey knows she’s not the apex predator.

After meeting the players and about 200 knock-knock jokes with half a punchline from one of their kids when they find out I’m a comedian, we’re invited out for drinks at a bar a few blocks away.

As we’re walking through the parking lot, Joey throws her hand out and grabs the arm of my jacket, slowing us to a stop. I nod Enzo on when he looks back. “The tequila company responded to my counter…”

“Shut up, what does it say?” I ask

She shakes her head. “I haven’t opened it.”

I squint. “Why not? Open it.”

Joey’s focus bounces from me to the screen. “I can’t.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

She snatches the phone away, holding it against her chest for safe keeping. “No, I’m scared.” Her eyes are wide, and the rise and fall of her breath comes quicker than normal.

“This is how you acted when you got your Harvard acceptance too, isn’t it?” I take the hand not clutching her phone, lacing my fingers between hers, and lead us back the way we came.

“I made Frankie and her parents open it while I wasn’t in the room,” she admits.

“One of the good things about being rejected from Harvard is you probably had plenty of colleges in your back pocket waiting for their chance.” Michigan had been my dream school, but I had four other scouts who wanted me in case that didn't happen.

“I only applied to Harvard.” Joey’s smile is tight lipped, almost embarrassed.

We round the corner of a building, but my eyes are stuck on her. “Wait a second, you’re telling me Queen of Having a Plan didn’t have a backup if she didn’t get into an Ivy League school with a four percent acceptance rate?”

Joey shrugs. “I found out later Frankie applied to Boston University for me just in case.” Her lack of applications wasn’t because she was cocky, but came from her fear of rejection. I don’t need her to confirm what I already know. “You gonna tell me where we're going?” she asks, glancing my way with her hand still in mine.

On the ride here, I noticed a late-night dessert place with an open sign in the window. “We have to have something to mull over, and I think sweets sound better than a loud bar with a bunch of Ohio hockey players waiting to swoop in and impress you with their big muscles and heavy wallets.”

It’s not just that they play for an Ohio team, but that is a big part of it.