Page 102 of The One Night Dash
She rolls her eyes, still smiling, and I tuck the memory away. Because yeah, I’ll be bringing up that condom throw for years.
“You have gotto be fucking kidding me,” I groan as I read the text.
Killer, two stalls down, doesn’t even look up from taping his stick blade, which looks like a murder weapon already and will be a splintered relic by the third period. “What’s up? She kicking you out already?”
I glare at the ceiling, like God Himself is the only one who can save him, or at least strike the stupid out of him.
“That’s not ever gonna happen. We’re like Jacob and Renesmee, without the cringy age gap shit going on.”
Killer cocks his head, tongue working the corner of his mouth as his brain tries to keep up. “Who?”
Faulker gasps. “Open a fucking book, man.”
“Or cheat and watch the movie,” Moretti adds, not even glancing over from where he’s stretching out his groin, chill as hell even when he’s proposing tonight. “Your move.”
Killer shrugs, tape tearing off with a pop. “If it’s not on Sports Net, I’m not watching it. If it’s not in the playbook, I’m not reading it.”
“Omega male energy,” I say.
“It inspiredFifty Shades,” Foster, one of our D men, calls across the room, the only guy whose team-mandated therapy is probably working.
“That’s like porn, right?” Killer asks.
Leo Stone chuckles. “No, it’s a date night movie. You ever wanna impress a girl off the ice and out of bed? Ten out of ten recommend.”
I can’t help but imagine Killer in a tie, sweating bullets, trying to impress his future Mrs. Killer, inviting her to the Puck Palace for a romantic evening watchingFifty Shades.
Killer nods to the phone still in my hand. “If you sext her before the game, I swear to God, I’ll have Coach bench you. Shit’s bad luck.”
“Sext her?” I shake my head. “You still think chicks are into eggplants?”
He looks stubborn, as if this is a hill worth dying on. “Everyone’s into eggplants. It’s universal.”
Stone sighs. “This is why you’re single.”
“Thanksgiving plans, brought to you by Briar,” I mutter, and everyone goes silent because, these days, everyone knows a text from Briar throws me for a loop. Well, they did until Noelle.
I barely get my thumbs moving before another message pops up, and now it’s a group chat with Noelle, my sisters, her brothers, our moms, and her stepdad, all apparently in Sofie’s box with the girls. The family is all here.
“What the hell?” I laugh, and Moretti leans over to peep at the phone. “Guess the families are meeting on Turkey Day in CT.”
Kozlov, who spent last Thanksgiving in rehab, just shakes his head. “Not gonna lie, Pembrooke’s family looked like a good time in those pictures online.”
I text Noelle.
Me
You good?
Noelle
I I’m not.
I sit back, mental alarms wailing. I know her, know when she’s stalling, and this is textbook. The double I, the stilted space, the lack of punctuation. She’s nervous, and that makes me nervous, which is not a state I enjoy, especially when I’m about to play.
Noelle
I’m great!!! They are all just like you! So, of course, I adore them already. Crush it out there! MAKE IT COUNT!
