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“Point.”
Kolak turned in right after slapping Ketty on his padded shin, and I bumped our goaltender’s helmet with my stick. “Good stops, Ketty.”
He muttered something, probably along the lines of all the swears I’d been cursing the entire game, but skated in, with me right on his heels.
“Prescott!” My name was called from the seats near the tunnel, but the woman pronounced it like biscuit.
Grated on my fucking nerves.
I glanced up to where the woman was standing. She was pretty, even in a heavy hoodie, as her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder. She was my type, that was for damn sure.
Too bad I wasn’t in the mood.
Or there was also the fact she wore a huge rock on her ring finger, a rock that could not go unnoticed as the woman’s arm hung over the rail, a folded piece of paper in her down-stretched hand.
Probably another phone number, though I’d have to admit it was my first from the married type. But hey, bunnies came in all shapes and types.
Who wanted to get it on after a shitty game like this one, though?
When my eyes met the woman’s, she reached the note down further. “My friend Ryleigh wanted to give this to you. She’s ridiculously shy,” the woman said.
Sure. Friend.
I grunted and reached up to take the paper, even though I had zero intentions to do anything with it. It would be finding a home in the nearest trash can.
“Good game, Noah,” the woman continued, turning to take the steps two at a time, which was quite the feat as they were deep-set stairs. I let my gaze follow her, hoping for some sort of twinge of excitement.
Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t in the mood for a bunny, but it had been a long damn time since I’d gotten laid. A few dates, heavy kisses, hands and fingers and bodily fluids...but no closing deals. I just couldn’t find prolonged excitement lately. My best guess would be because of the stress of the season.
At the top of the stairs, the woman met up with another female; this one dark where the other was light. Short, dark hair. Black hoodie, compared to the other woman’s light blue one. Nothing on her face, at least from what I could tell down here.
Then, when her eyes landed down on me…
The feeling in my gut was like no other.
I felt like I knew her… In fact, I even thought I recognized her, but I knew I did not know of any Ryleigh.
I had to fight a grin when the girl blushed to high heaven.
Huh.
Maybe I’d be keeping the note, after all.
***
“Attention, all you grumpy bastards!” One of the many rookies on the team, Jason Thompson, yelled from his spot at the end of the bus. “It is officially 11:11—” There was an interrupted addition of “23:11,” but Jason just kept talking.
That’s what the kid was good for. Talking.
“...on November 11th. Now, we’re a bunch of superstitious fools, so how about a word from our assistant captain, the one who wears our own brand of eleven? Noah! Take the floor.”
I groaned and sat further down in my seat, my wind pants sliding effortlessly against the leather. We weren’t lucky enough to have a plane—we had to drive this godforsaken bus every-fucking-where—but at least they afforded us leather. Cloth seats would stink to high heaven with the lot of us.
“C’mon, man,” Jason said, strutting up the aisles of the bus until he was next to my seat. “Give us some words of encouragement.”
“Fuck off, Jason.” I ran my hand through my short brown hair before pulling it roughly down my face.
“Good start, buddy.”
