Page 67 of Line Change

My good mood drops hard enough that Bobby stops arguing with Sindre and looks at me.

Shut the fuck up, brain. Pope can hook up with somebody else if he wants. That’s his business.

I kick the tape back too hard, and it hits Bobby in the ankle.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“It was in the way.”

Bobby bends to pick it up, watching me as he straightens. “You’re still coming out, right?”

“Yeah.” I bend over my skate laces.

“You sure?”

“I said yeah.”

Bobby keeps watching me while Sindre calls over that the club is supposed to be the next big thing in Miami and they’ll never get in if he keeps talking instead of showering. Two of the younger guys are going with them. Anton says the place will close before any of them get there.

“I’m coming,” I tell Bobby. A loud club and a few hours away from Pope will be good for me.

Probably.

Bobby looks across the room. “Yo, Pope. You coming with us?”

I’m looking at Pope before Bobby finishes the question.

Bobby has spent enough time looking between us lately. He knows Pope texts me from across the locker room and that I fell asleep on Pope’s couch. Maybe this is another question he thinks he’s asking casually.

Pope looks up from his phone. “Some of the Hammerheads invited me for drinks. I told them I’d go.”

Of course they did. He was here from the expansion draft until the trade, won a Cup with them, and has his name all over this building. It would be strange if nobody asked him out.

“Okay,” Bobby says. “Maybe we’ll see you.”

Pope’s gaze catches mine. I pull my jersey over my head before my face can show how disappointed I am.

The club is already packed when we get there. Bobby was right about it being new; the line curls past the entrance under a shifting neon sign while people take pictures and argue with the door staff about whose list they’re on. One of the door staff recognizes us and waves our group through, which Sindre pretends not to enjoy.

Inside, the music is loud enough to flatten conversation into mouths moving near ears. Light slides over the crowd in blue and white bands, catching bare shoulders and raised drinks. Bobby points toward the dance floor. I point toward the bar.

I need a beer before I let him drag me anywhere.

The bartender has just put it in front of me when a woman beside me says, “You were at the game tonight.”

She’s wearing a green top that leaves her shoulders bare, with a long dark braid hanging down her back. Gold hoops flash when the light catches them. She is close enough that I can smell her perfume over the alcohol and sweat around us.

“I played in it,” I say.

“I know.” Her smile widens. “I was trying not to lead with that.”

“You lasted almost five seconds.”

She laughs and tells me her name is Nadia. Her friend brought her here, then disappeared onto the dance floor before they finished their first drink. By the time I give her my name, Bobby and Sindre have done the same thing to me. One of the younger guys is at the other end of the bar talking to somebody, and the last one went after Bobby.

What the hell.

Nadia rests her forearm on the bar and leans closer to hear me. She’s hot, clearly interested, and I’m still very fucking bi. Pope made his own plans tonight. I can buy a woman a drink.