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“Wouldn’t it have been easier to send you a text message from my phone instead of adding me on Instagram?”
“Whoa,” he says, and I can hear him walking, “that’s an invasion of your privacy. If you’re going to give me your number, then I’ll use it.” I hear the fridge door close. “This was the best option.”
“I don’t even think I can argue any point on that logic,” I admit.
“Good,” he responds, drinking something, “so are you going to give me your number?”
“No.” I bite my lip, trying not to smile.
“You’re going to go out with me?” He breathes out a deep breath, something that normally irritates me, but with him I get these little flutters, which now irritate me.
“No.” I don’t even give myself a moment to think about it.
“Okay, good.” I can hear his smirk through the phone, and now my stomach flutters have moved down south. “It’s a we’ll see.” I shake my head at his persistence. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.” He doesn’t even wait for me to reply before he hangs up.
I look at the phone, and it says call ended. I think about calling him back, but instead, I put my phone down. “He’ll get bored soon enough,” I tell myself. They always do when they realize my job comes before anyone. “Then it’ll be just another memory.”
CHAPTERFIVE
stone
“Move your ass, Richards!” my coach, Darryl, yells from the other side of the rink as I hustle down the middle of the ice. “Pick it up!” I hear his words, but my whole body fucking aches. To say I’m dragging ass is the understatement of the year.
Jay, my left winger, passes me the puck from the side, and the whistle blows as soon as it touches the blade of my stick. “Offside, Richards.” The coach points at my right foot that went over the blue line before I touched the puck.
I look down, seeing he’s not wrong. “Motherfucker,” I grumble. “Sorry, guys.” I skate back over to the start of the drill we’re doing this afternoon.
“Think you can not fuck this up?” James, my right winger, goads, but he’s hiding a smirk. “I think I’m going to die out there,” he huffs and puffs.
“You?” Jay says. “I spent five days on a beach drinking beer like it was water.” He breathes out like a bull. “How does five days on a beach get you so out of shape?”
“I spent half the time on the ice, and I’m out of shape,” I remind them. “It’s the age.”
“Fuck you,” they say at the same time. “Let’s fucking do this.” I get down on my haunches with my hockey stick in both hands, leaning on my legs, waiting for the puck to be dropped.
“If you fuck this up,” Jay declares, “you owe me five hundred dollars.”
“Times two.” James holds up his gloved hand with two fingers.
“I don’t even know what you are betting,” Gally, the second line centerman, adds on. He’s in the same stance as me, but during practice, we face off against each other. “But if I have to do this again, I’m going to kick your ass, and you’ll owe me, too.”
I shake my head and focus on the puck in assistant coach Robby’s hand. He spreads his feet to the sides, holding the puck out in the middle. I see it fall and swing into action, slapping it away from Gally and to Jay, just like the diagram the coach showed us twenty minutes ago. Part one of the play done, I skate around Gally, who I’m not sure lets me get around him or if I’m suddenly faster than I was before.
Jay passes the puck back to Benny, the defenseman, who then whips it back to Jay. I push toward the blue line, timing it, knowing Jay will send it back to me. The puck touches my blade at the right before I hustle into the zone and send it to James, who makes it past the defensive players in the zone just like the diagram shows.
Getting into my position right in front of the goalie, I block his view as the puck is passed from James to Jay to Benny, who whips it to the goalie who saves it, but I pick up the rebound once it bounces off his right leg and tip it over his left side where he isn’t expecting it.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!” the coach shouts, pointing his hockey stick at the net. “Good job, boys.” He blows his whistle. “See you all tomorrow. Don’t forget we head out for Chicago right after the game, and then we have a couple of days off. Try to rest up. Playoffs are coming, and we need all the points we can get.” He blows the whistle twice, meaning practice is officially over.
Skating off the ice, I take off my right glove, tucking it under my left arm before unsnapping my helmet. “Well done, Stoney,” Jay declares, picking up a green bottle and squirting water in his mouth as he waits for everyone else to get off the ice.
“I was not going to lose a thousand bucks.” I stand on the other side of him, grabbing my own bottle and squeezing water into my mouth as I wait for the rush of people trying to get off the ice.
Once everyone but Jay and I have left the ice, we make our way down the red carpet toward the locker room. I place my stick along the outside of the wall with all the other sticks before walking in. Putting my gloves on top of the shelf with my name on it, I then add the helmet to it before taking off my jersey and tossing it in the bin in the middle of the room. I sit down and untie my skates. Sweat drips off my forehead as I finish getting undressed and head to the shower.
I shower in record time. The only thing on my mind is sliding into my bed and sleeping until tomorrow morning. The past two days, I think I’ve gotten maybe ten hours of sleep. We stayed up until I think seven o’clock the morning after the wedding. But I don’t think I would have had it any other way. The wedding officially ended at four, but then all the cousins just went to one house, and we chilled. Laughing as we replayed parts of the wedding that were funny, we ordered six hundred dollars’ worth of breakfast sandwiches and then rushed to catch the plane leaving at ten. I slept the whole five-hour flight back home, only waking when the wheels touched down. I was thankful my father had the good mind to book me a private flight back home.
Pulling up to my house, I swear I almost groan when I press the button and pull into one of the three garage doors. I park it right next to the black BMW.
