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Finally, Luke speaks up again. "You know, sometimes it's good to have something to distract you from all the pressure. Makes you play better. Maybe this girl is that something for you."
I frown, not sure how to respond. "I don't know, man. I don't want to mess things up with her."
Luke shrugs. "Well, then don't mess things up with her. Seems simple enough."
I roll my eyes, but can't help but smile. "Is it offensive if I say that's awfullyCanadianof you?"
"What--is she asking for an apology?"
I grimace. "I didn't fuck anything up, she's just...way out of my league."
"Out ofyourleague?" he gapes at me. "You have girls tripping over themselves to hop in bed with you--so she's gotta really be something."
I nod, feeling a sense of relief that someone else understands. "Yeah, she is."
Luke gets back into position. "Well, don't give up on her, man. You never know, she might be into hockey players."
I laugh, feeling a little better. "Thanks, buddy. I'll keep that in mind."
We finish our workout in companionable silence, and I feel a little more focused, a little less obsessed with Birdie. But as soon as I'm showered and dressed, I'm checking my phone, hoping for a reply to my invitation.
And there it is.
Birdie:I'll meet you at the bar across from the arena.
A couple seconds pass, another text incoming.
Birdie:But this is NOT a date.
I grin, feeling a surge of excitement. I know I have to play it cool, but I can't help but feel like this could be the start of something real. Something meaningful. Something that could make me forget all the meaningless bullshit I've been through over the past few years.
I just have to navigate this carefully.
And remember that both our reputations could suffer if anyone finds out I slept with her before she wrote the story about me.
Chapter eleven
Birdie
It'snotadate.
It's reallynota date.
At least, that's what I keep muttering to myself over and over as I get ready to go to the game tonight, trying desperately to strike a balance between casual and dressed up. I put on about four different outfits before I settle on jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket, pulling my hair up into a ponytail and adding a red scarf for some color...and to match the Pucks' jerseys.
I'm in so fucking deep, and this guy isn't supposed to mean anything to me.
After that one intense night, I told myself I would try not to mess around with Johnny again--it wouldn't be right, and it could mean the end of my career if my new boss found out I slept with the guy before writing a puff piece on him. But then I saw him last night, and my ovaries started screaming at me that it was high time to...well, you know.
So here I am.
Going to the Pucks game with most of a box of condoms in my purse.
Noton a date.
As I walk into the arena, the energy is electric. The sound of the fans chanting and cheering, the bright neon lights flashing, I can't help but feel excited. I make my way to the press box, showing my credentials and taking a seat. I can't help but scan the rink, searching for Johnny. I spot him on the ice, his muscles rippling under his jersey as he takes a shot at the net.
I feel a shiver run through me as I remember the intensity of our night together.
