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“Shut up, fucker. Last month wasn’t my fault.”Sort of.“Regardless, we need to keep a low profile until after the Gala.”
“It’s easy for me, but how will you keep the bunnies away? They flock to you,” Ryan says.
“I’ve got that handled. You just worry about yourself. Don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking back in this morning.”
His face flames. “That’s nothing.”
Interesting. I rarely keep tabs on the guys, but that’s the third time he has snuck back in. Something’s going on. I let it drop. “Whatever you say. I need to shower off practice. Meet you back at the house.”
I take some shit from the other guys as I head to the showers. The weight of expectations feels like a puck lodged in my throat. Keep it clean. Don’t make headlines. Be the perfect poster boy for Cessna U Wildcats hockey. Easy, right?
I’ve got this.
CHAPTERTEN
BLAKE
A few teammatesare scattered around the locker room by the time I’m showered and dressed. I grab my phone from my locker and search for Amanda’s name through my contacts. My fingers hover over the screen, hesitating. Is this the right move? She seemed chill earlier, but this is a whole different level. Bringing her into this mess feels like I’m playing with fire.
But what other choice do I have? Besides, it’s just one date.
Without overthinking, I text to find out where she is. It doesn’t hurt to ask.
As I wait for a reply, I tie up my laces, feeling more confident with my decision. This could be the perfect solution to my problem. Asking her to be my date for the Gala would give us a legitimate reason to avoid potential distractions and keep a low profile. When Juliette or any other girl comes on too strong, I can use our upcoming date as an excuse. It would take the pressure off me during the skills tournament and keep my name out of the gossip column. Coach and the donor would be pleased, and I could finally focus on my game without distractions.
All I see is the upside to this.
Perhaps I ask for something more permanent. My body wants to revolt at the idea. I don’t think that’s necessary.
“You going to Auntie B’s?” Andrew’s question pulls my thoughts back to my current surroundings. Auntie B’s is a local diner we frequent often since none of us is especially good at cooking. They specialize in healthy meals catering to athletes.
“Nah, I’ll grab something later and head home. I’ve got a few things to take care of first.”
“Okay, man. See you back at the house.”
He heads out, leaving me alone. My fingers fidget impatiently. It feels like hours before a response comes in, and I find myself pacing the locker room like a caged animal. Finally, my phone buzzes in my hand, and I quickly glance at it to see her response.
Amanda: I’m at the library. What’s up?
That brings a smile to my face. Little Miss Bookworm is such a hard worker. I like that she has the same drive and determination as me—just in academics instead of athleticism.
I quickly type a reply, my fingers dancing across the screen with newfound excitement.
Me: Something came up, and I need to talk to you. Can I meet you there?
As I hit send, the weight of what I’m about to do hits. This could change everything. But it could also be precisely what I need. And maybe I should ask for a more extended arrangement. Just saying I have a date won’t ward off other women—not when they’re determined to sink their claws into me.
I gather my things, lock my locker, and make my way into the hallway. I’m almost to the outside door when my phone buzzes once again.
Amanda: Sure, I’m on the second floor, study room three.
Perfect. That place should give us privacy, provided it isn’t crowded.
Me: Sounds great. See you there in 20.
Amanda: See you then.
I tuck my phone in my pocket and step outside, wearing a grin that has nothing to do with meeting a girl and everything to do with obtaining freedom.
