Page 72 of Puck Me Secretly

I movedalong the cement corridor of the stadium. My heels echoed in the silence of the big dome. I needed to talk to Dad. This whole ‘protect Rory’ thing was ridiculous. He couldn't ask the players to babysit me if he wanted them to respect me. That whole meeting had been embarrassing and Baxter had made me sound like a joke. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Dad was half the problem. He couldn’t expect me to work in a professional capacity when he treated me like a child in front of everyone.

“Rory.” Max spoke from behind me.

I didnotwant to talk to Max. His knack in this world was to see me at my most emotional. Why couldn’t he bump into me in the morning when my make-up was fresh and nothing had yet gone wrong? No, the guy was always there, observing me when my plane was crashing, or I was being mauled by a mob. How was he ever going to want more from me when I was a walking billboard of big emojis?

“Not now.” I doubled my speed.

“Rory.” I glanced over my shoulder. He moved with deceptive casualness, but he was gaining on me.

“What!” I spun around on him. “What?”

His eyes crinkled with amusement as he took in my flushed face. “In a rush?”

When I stopped running, all my emotions caught up with me. I put my hand on my forehead. “Gah!”

“What?”

“Everything! No one respects me.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Were we not in the same meeting?”

“Still not following.”

I waved my hand around. “That whole thing with Baxter when he made me try to explain hockey to a bunch of professional hockey players?”

“You didn’t just try.”

I thought of all the players faces as they stared back at me after I spoke. “They all stared at me like I had three heads. It’s obvious I don't know what I am talking about.”

“I think you caught them off guard by showing them how much you do know.”

“It doesn’t matter because Baxter ruined everything by asking for someone to babysit me.”

“No one sees it like that.”

“How do you know?!”

“Because we talked about it.”

I blinked and paused. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged but didn’t answer.

I put my hand on my hip. “If you’re talking about me, it matters.”

“The guys want to keep you safe.”

“Yes, because so many of them were rushing to volunteer.”

“It’s because of me.”

I froze. “What does that mean?”

“They knew it’s my job.”

That caught me off guard. “What is your job?”

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