Page 98 of Hockey Halloween
Brock couldn’t help it: he smiled. This felt better than boxing someone out of the crease. Better than doing the perfect stick lift. Better than...than...winning the Norris!
Wow. He really liked Felix.
“Great,” Brock said. “Now I can actually look forward to the party.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re such a grump. It’ll be great! Let’s go decorate your door to celebrate.”
Felix
Felix was over the moon. Mr. Hunk—now officially Mr. Brock Warner of the Philadelphia Gliders—had asked him out on a date! And while that was more than enough to put a smile on his face, it was a friggin’ Halloween party. Even if he and Brock never made it past that first date, the thrill of this whole costume party would last the rest of his life.
“It’s like Cinderella,” Dolores said over her peach Daiquiri. “You’re going to a ball to dance with the handsome prince!”
“He’s not a prince,” Felix said, sipping his Mai Tai through the ridiculous flamingo-shaped straw Dolores had given him for Christmas. They always met for drinks on Friday, usually to gossip about Dolores’ Bridge Club; Felix was ecstatic that he had his own news to share this time. Today was Felix’s turn to host, and he’d made sure to get the fancy Daiquiri mix that Dolores liked. “He’s a smokin’ hot hockey player. That’s honestly way better.”
“Mmm,” Dolores hummed. “So, have you seen him smile yet? He’s very polite in the hallway, but he seems so grumpy.”
Felix nearly slammed his palm on the table. “Dolores. Hesmiledwhen I said I’d go with him to the party.” He fanned himself andsighed dreamily. “It was a good smile. So soft and sweet and vulnerable…”
“A big softie, then.” Dolores nodded approvingly. “Those are the good ones. I had a gentleman caller who was gruff on the outside, but a teddy bear when you got to know him. Fantastic in bed, too. Complete package, really, except that he was Russian. Could only understand half of what he said.”
Felix bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Gentleman caller?”
“Well, we were never going to get married. It was all about the sex. Luckily, he didn’t need to know English to be good at that.”
“Dolores, you’re my hero.” Felix finished his drink and pushed it aside. “Brock is a bit on the grumpy side, but I think it’s more that he’s shy. And honestly, I don’t mind the silent brooding type. It suits him.”
“It does,” she agreed. “So what’s the plan for this party? This is your big chance to sweep him off his feet. You have to bring your A-game.”
“I know. I’m thinking the costume is key here. Ihaveto make a big impression. I just can’t figure outwhatto?—”
There was a knock at his apartment door. Dolores and Felix stared at each other—Felix never had unexpected visitors, and his heart leapt in his chest at the possibility that it was Brock. He carefully pushed away from his kitchen island and went to check the door while Dolores not so subtly leaned forward to catch a glimpse.
When he looked out the peephole, though, it wasn’t Brock standing there; it was a man in a delivery uniform.
“Yes?” Felix asked as he opened it. He hadn’t ordered anything recently, yet the man handed him a box with a clipboard on top.
“Sign here, please.”
“Uhm…” Felix glimpsed his address listed next to Brock’s name, so figured he could sign now and figure it out later.
“Have a good night,” the man said, already walking to the elevator.
“Thanks,” Felix said, staring down at the box. “You too,” he added belatedly as he closed the door.
“Well, what is it?” Dolores called, not even pretending she hadn’t been shamelessly spying. “Open it!”
“I have no idea,” he said. He pulled the tab and ripped open the top of the box. Inside, he found shiny red satin. “Uh…”
Dolores came over and took the cloth from him, spreading it out between her outstretched hands to reveal a cape. A few other items tumbled out of the box, and when Felix bent over to pick them up, he discovered a headband with horns and a pin-on tail, all the same bright red as the cape.
“I thought you didn’t have a costume picked out yet,” Dolores said. She held the cape against Felix’s chest and nodded approvingly. “Good color on you. Little long, though.”
“Thanks. And I hadn’t picked one.” He looked again at the box, the label very clearly his address, but the note underneath said BROCK WARNER. “I think maybe Brock sent it to me.”
“That’s cute of him, getting a costume for you. I’m telling you, he’s a keeper.”
“A devil, though?” He put on the headband. “How do I look?”
