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“Yeah, you’ve got a spicy life all right. So much you’ve lost your palette.” He hangs his head between his shoulders and laughs. “Young and dumb. Someday you’ll have a woman up there and you’ll get it.”
I laugh. “Ha! Doubtful.”
No way in hell will that ever be me. I brush it off, but what he said about the WAGs box gives me an idea. Jordan should come to a game so she can meet the wives. To say her social life is lacking would be an understatement. Building up a group of safe friends would benefit her. I’ll suggest it and see what she thinks.
“Okay, old man. For now, can you at least pretend to focus. Jesus Christ.”
He slaps my stomach with his glove. “Shit, Lonan’s gonna get this one.” We rise to our feet. Sure enough, a second later, Lonan Burke sends it in. Guess he was paying attention more than I gave him credit for.
“Fuck yeah, Burkey!” I yell from the bench. One last squirt of my water bottle, then I’m back on the ice.
Coach sends out Burmeister and Paek together, and I grin.This is it. The previous line was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. As soon as the staff gave it a shot, it was night and day difference. Practices have been going smoothly now that we’ve implemented the change, but this will be our first time trying it out at a game.
During their shift, Paek and Burmeister pass and move around as if they can read each other’s mind. I resist jumping up and down. I knew they would be great together! Their strengths complement each other so well. I feel on top of the world.
Coach gives me a slap on the back when Paek does an absolutely beautiful, filthy deke to Burmeister, but I don’t look back at him. He and I both know it wouldn’t have happened on the previous set up. I don’t care to say I told you so, I’m just pleased it’s working and we have our solid defense back.
Jordan: Congrats! I’m going to celebrate your win with an ice cream sundae.
Me: I’m sure. And what were you going to do if we didn’t win?
Jordan: I was going to grieve your losswith an ice cream sundae.
Me: Thought so.
Jordan: I’m assuming you’ll be out late. I’m going to use the theater to watch a movie, but let me know if you’re coming home with a friend and I’ll make myself scarce.
Does she honestly think I’d bring home a girl while she’s living there? After we've slept together?
Me: Whoa, what if I want ice cream too?
Jordan: Do you?
Me: Not really.
Jordan: Thought so.
Jordan: See you laterrrrrrr.
On the stationary bikes, Shep shouts, “Top Shelf, who’s in?”
A few of the boys cheer, but I remain silent. It feels weird leaving Jordan home alone. Besides, I’ve been spending so much time with practices and Coach that a quiet night kinda sounds nice.
“Banksy, you’re buying the first round.”
“Nah, I’m gonna skip this one.”
Wilder rears his head back and stops pedaling. “Dude, it’s Halloween!”
I can’t tell them why I’m skipping out, they won’t understand. It’s not like me, and Halloween is like puck bunnyChristmas.
“I’m beat.”
“It’s Hallo-fucking-ween! Do I need to remind you every hot woman in the city is going to be out, in costume, and looking sexy as fuck?”
Jonesy walks up and puts the back of his palm to my forehead like he’s checking my temperature. I slap his hand away.
“Fuck off, I’m just tired. Can’t a guy take a night off? Shit.”
