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“Good girl. Just remember, we believe in you. We always have.”
“I know. Thanks. We’re just pulling up at the airport.”
“Okay, have a safe trip. Text us as soon as you land.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Two
Clint
“Wake up, you dumbass. I refuse to let you make me late for another flight.” My teammate and roommate, Hunter, flicks on my bedroom light.
“Fuck off,” I groan, lifting my pillow and tucking my head under it. “You just killed a very fun moment I was having with a hot stewardess.”
“Well, if you get your lazy ass out of bed, you might just meet a real hot stewardess in the flesh.” He kicks the foot of my bed. “Twenty minutes. Do not make me late for the fucking Winter Games.”
I yawn loudly. “Is that today?” I ask, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him to pretend I forgot.
“Are you fucking serious? Of course it’s…oh, you asshole. You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“Now that you mention it, it rings a bell. I should probably start packing, right?” I scratch my two-day old whiskers on my jaw and try to fight a smile.
Hunter, who has been packed for over a week now makes a grunting noise then walks out into the hallway muttering, “Prick.”
I chuckle to myself as I drag my ass out of bed. There’s nothing easier than upsetting a goalie. They’re all fucking nuts to begin with. Hunter’s the worst of them all. A total control freak, type-A, needs to line up his fork and knife when he sets the table, kind of guy. I, however, am the complete opposite. First off, I don’t set the table. I eat on the sofa while balancing my plate on my lap and surfing through the sports channels. Second, I play center, which means I jump in and go wherever the moment takes me. In my case, it’s taken me to the pros at the tender age of seventeen and now, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, it’s taking me to the Winter Games for my second attempt at a gold medal. That fucker Sydney Crosby is not going to beat me this time. Canada is going down.
When we arrive at the airport, we’re greeted by a throng of girls who have come to see us off. Hunter gives them a quick smile and a wave and keeps walking toward the security check-in, but I stop to say hello and pose for some pics. By the time I work my way through the crowd, I hear my name being called over the loud speaker, “Clint Sullivan, report to gate G-52 immediately for boarding.”
“Sorry, ladies, that’s me. Make sure you cheer loud enough so I can hear you in Korea. And meet me back here when we get home. I’ll be the guy with a gold medal around his neck.” I wink at an especially hot brunette and the look on her face tells me she’ll be waiting.
