Page 55 of Snowballed

“She paid off the girl who actually won. Offered her money for the winning ticket.”

This makes me feel even worse. I never liked the idea in the first place, but a draw meant an element of randomness. Someone who pays for a date is going to have expectations.

“I hate b.s. like this. I hope you guys made a lot of money.”

“Yeah, we made enough for new tracksuits. Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome.” Zoe is the only person who could have made me do it.

“I guess we better get ready for tonight.”

Yes, it feels weird that we’re both getting ready for dates—but not with each other. Helen wants to go to the Biscuit in the Basket, which is the hockey hangout on campus. I know exactly why: she wants everyone to see us together. I have zero patience for this shit. I’ve never had a real conversation with Helen because she’s too busy trying to impress me.

But I have to do this, so I’ll play my part. I shower, shave, and get dressed.

When I go downstairs, Zoe is cooking. There’s a cake on the counter, and she’s stirring something on the stove. It smells amazing in here.

I sit down at the table. “I thought you were going out with Minnesota Mild tonight.”

She laughs at my joke, which makes me feel better.

“Now I’m going to be thinking of that nickname all night,” she says. “Our date is here. I didn’t want to waste money taking him out.”

“Will your mom be here too?” I ask.

“Of course not. That would be too awkward. She’s going out to a movie.”

“But you hardly know him. What if he turns out to be—” I try to think of the right word. He seems like a nice guy, but that’s what they always say about serial killers.

“Don’t worry about Martin. At least I’m not going out with the human octopus,” she says.

“Hey, I’m an undersized defenseman, I’ve spent years avoiding hits.”

Zoe giggles. She seems happier lately, and I’m glad. Although what originally intrigued me were the glimpses of seriousness under her cheery exterior, now I want good things for Zoe. Like getting to play more games. Or maybe getting a break from all the work she does.

“It smells like a really good dinner,” I say.

“Well, I’m not going to poison him. Besides, it’ll be easier to let him down if he gets a good meal first.”

I may not like it, but that makes sense. I get up and put on my heavy coat and scarf. Now that it’s November, there’s snow on the ground, but the roads are clear.

“Have a horrible time.” I pause at the door, wishing that I was the one staying in for a cozy private dinner with Zoe.

She walks over. For a moment, I hope she’ll kiss me, but instead she rubs my arm in a comforting way. “You too.”

“That’s a guarantee.” I head out into the cold.

I’ve been to The Biscuit before. There’s always someone from the team around, and tonight there’s a bunch of them.

“Goody!” they holler when we walk in.

“Do you want to join them?” I ask Helen. I can see the calculations going on in her mind: a private “date” table or showing off to the maximum number of people.

“Let’s sit with them,” she decides. We walk over with Helen’s hand tightly gripping my bicep. The downside of going out with a hockey player is that she’s stronger than most women.

We settle in at a big table with the guys and a few of their dates.

Brian Pokroy leans over and whispers to me, “So, you and Helen?”

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