Page 20 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
It wasn’t healthy to put all these expectations on him. He was a great guy, and all I needed to do was enjoy our time together. Anything else would happen, or it wouldn’t. I needed to live for the moment, for the day, and stop obsessing over my failed past relationships or what might or might not happen in the future. Now. Focus on now.
Which was the paper I was writing. I would fall into the world of bone-grafts, with a purring warm cat by my side. Then bed. And tomorrow will be another day.
Chapter 9
Ozar
Early Monday morning I ran by the arena and found a suitable small box in the coach’s office closet. The box had been pre-wrapped with a soft, slightly fuzzy dark blue covering—which was a relief since I doubted I had the skill to neatly fold paper around the awkward shape. None of the bows with the sticky backing would remain on the blue surface, so after putting my teeth inside, I tied a silky white ribbon around the box in a bow that was slightly lopsided.
Anxiety burned in my stomach. Jordan was the first female I’d ever wooed, and due to the scarcity of female orcs, I hadn’t been able to witness many courtship processes myself. All I had to go on was stories from my father and other orcs in my clan, and what Bwat had told me about human dating customs.
My walk to the address on the card Jordan had given me took less time than I’d expected, so I meandered around the block a few times. It was important to be on time, but arriving too early would be rude. My timing did give me a chance to stop in a nearby Starbucks, though.
The guy at the register did a double-take when he saw me, then grinned. “Hey, you’re one of the Tusks, aren’t you? Ozar, right?”
It was one of the few times someone outside of the stadium had recognized me as being on the hockey team, and it sent a strange feeling through my chest, like when I’d returned home to my clan after successfully defending the western boundary. But what did I have to be proud of? The Tusks were nothing but comic relief, laughingstocks on ice. I was just doing this job so I could remain here until I found a wife. Then I would go home. Something deep down inside of me wanted to take this job seriously. I’d wanted to win this past weekend against the enemy…other team, but we didn’t have the skills or any sort of team cohesion. None of my teammates cared about the game, and it seemed like the audience hadn’t, either. They were just there to see a bunch of orcs get the crap beat out of them.
“Yeah. I’m Ozar,” I replied gruffly to the cashier. The brief feeling of pride had been replaced by shame. I wasn’t recognized because of valor; this human male knew me because I was earning a reputation as a buffoon.
The employee’s smile was sympathetic. “Rough first game, but you’ll get them next time. We’re rooting for ya.”
Was he serious? I grunted, then placed my order, grabbed a gift card, and paid for it all, waiting awkwardly at the pick-up end of the counter while keeping my eye on the time.
“Go Tusks!” A female who had her dark curls streaked with purple slid the coffee drink toward me with a smile.
Maybe they did mean it. Maybe they wanted us to keep trying and hopefully win a game—eventually. Their comments felt genuine, and my cup not only had my name on it, but a cute drawing of an orc with a hockey stick.
I left feeling conflicted. After last night’s game, I’d decided not to put any additional effort into this hockey thing. But if there were people in this town that actually wanted the Tusks to win, I didn’t want to let them down. I’d marched out of my clan’s homeland on hopeless missions dozens of times in my life, determined to do my best because I owed it to my clan. They had put their faith in me. And I would die before I let them down.
Weirdly enough, I was beginning to get the same feeling of responsibility and duty toward the people of Baltimore, who wanted the Tusks to win. Which was ridiculous. These were humans, and this was a silly game. It wasn’t at all like my duties as a Clan Guardian back home. I owed nothing to these humans and nothing to the other orcs who’d been forced onto this team of ours.
Jordan’s residence was six floors up in a large, concrete building with glass doors, thickly carpeted floors, and an elevator. I took the stairs since I didn’t really trust a metal box suspended on ropes to safely haul me up six stories. Once I was on the correct floor, I quickly identified her dwelling by the gold writing on the glass door.
Unsure what human protocol was, I tapped on the glass door and peered through it. Two females sat behind a desk, and there were two males and a female sitting in chairs across from them. Jordan was nowhere to be seen, and for a second, I was worried that I’d gone to the wrong place, despite the fact that her name was painted on the door.
One of the females behind the desk waved me in, so I entered and approached her.
“Good morning. Doctor Jordan Schooner told me to arrive here at this time,” I said, proud that I’d memorized several different greetings in case I’d need to gain entrance from a doorman or security person.
“You must be Ozar.” The female smiled at me. “Here’s a form we ask all of our new patients to fill out. Take a seat over there with the others, and we’ll call you when we’re ready.”
What was going on? Was Jordan such a high-ranking female that she had staff answering her door and screening her visitors? And who were these other people? I took a seat, glaring at the other two males, hoping to intimidate them into leaving. Could Jordan have others vying for her favor? Was I in competition with these other two males? And what about the female? Why wasshehere?
Had I misread the whole situation? I knew nothing about human customs, and I was beginning to doubt that Bwat did either, in spite of all his supposed research.
I sat and looked at the form, struggling to understand most of the questions. We didn’t have all this paperwork back home, but in the human world it seemed like everything required I fill out ten of these pages, all of them requesting the same information. It was annoying. I found myself muttering in Orcish under my breath and jabbing the writing implement into the paper with a force that left holes in it.
Fed up with the whole thing, I took it all back to the female at the desk, slapping it down on the counter and returning to my chair.
I thought about leaving, but I hadn’t imagined the chemistry between us Saturday night. It wasn’t just our chance meeting in the parking lot, either. She and her friends had appeared at the bar where my teammates and I were congregating, and I got the impression that they’d arrived knowing we’d be there. And that kiss Jordan had given me as she left…
Quickly evaluating the possible prowess and attraction of the other two males made me feel slightly better. Neither looked like they were anywhere near the optimal age for breeding, and I seriously doubted their ability to bring Jordan pleasure or provide for her. Perhaps there was another reason for their presence here. Although I knew absolutely zero about human female preferences when it came to males.
I was still second guessing myself when another female walked from a back room and called my name. I stood, following her into a small room with a reclining chair, two stools, and all sorts of metallic equipment. The female indicated that I should sit, but instead I stiffened, looking around at all the small metal tools and the large arm-like protuberances jutting from the sides of the chair. I didn’t like the look of this room. Or the feel of it. Or the smell of it either. And where was Jordan?
I growled, thinking I should have brought an additional weapon. Although I could easily overpower these humans and escape, I’d feel more confident with a sword, or at least something more than my one knife.
“Um, it’s your first time at the dentist?” the female squeaked, clutching her clipboard against her chest. “Maybe I should get Doctor Schooner.”
