Page 26 of Taking Sides

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I didn’t peg you for such a pessimist,” Penn says.

“He isn’t.” D-Low sounds so certain.

Am I? When it comes to dating, probably.

“It’s statistical analysis,” D-Low says. “You’re constantly predicting the future based on past scenarios. What you need is to change the outcomes, so your brain isn’t planning for the worst case every time you talk to a woman.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” I ask with a hint of sarcasm because if I knew the answer to that, I’d have done it years ago. But I wait for his reply anyway with a sliver of hope that he can help.

“The details are fuzzy, but we need to get you a win.”

The crowd around us cheers. On the ice, the Moonshot High players are celebrating. My stare shifts to Whitney. Her smile takes my breath away.

“A win sounds nice.” Specifically, a win with Whitney. Anyone else would feel like a consolation prize. I may not have gotten to know her that well, but I felt a spark of something that was entirely nerves and panic.

The three of us clap as the celebration winds down and the game resets. D-Low angles his body to better give me his attention. “Tell me more about the girl.”

“She’s . . .” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “She’s great.”

“Obviously, but give me specifics.”

“I already told you all about the date.”

“Yeah, but that was mostly how you fucked it up. Tell me about her. Where’s she from? What’s she into? Let’s map this thing out. We’ll make it foolproof.”

“Foolproof, huh?” I huff a quiet laugh.

“As in, she’d be a fool to turn you down.” He reaches forward and smacks me lightly on the left side of my face. His phone buzzes and he looks at the screen, then taps out a reply before he says, “Make it quick because I need to leave in twenty minutes to meet up with Erin.”

“See? It’s that easy,” Penn mutters.

“Exactly,” D-Low says. “Now start talking.”

SEVEN

“Congrats!” Sloane hugs me.

“You stayed,” I say with some surprise as I wrap my arms around her.

“Of course. I had to cheer you on.”

“You’re supposed to cheer the boys on.”

She waves a hand. “Same thing.”

“Not really.”

“I don’t know much about hockey, but you looked great yelling and drawing on that clipboard.”

I snort a laugh. “Well, thank you.”

She covers a yawn. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but this week kicked my ass. Are we still on for our Saturday morning walk?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” She smiles. “I’ll be over at nine.”