Page 4 of Game Changer
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Kip saw the headline the next morning on the train:Night of the Hunter!He leaned forward a little to read the front page of the paper of the passenger sitting opposite him. Apparently Hunter had scored a hat trick last night and got two assists in a 7–1 trouncing of Washington. Kip smiled. He felt oddly proud of him.
Yeah, so nice that millionaire superstar had a good night. Sheesh.
The Admirals were playing in New Jersey tonight, the paper said. As Kip walked the two blocks from the train station to Straw+Berry, he thought about the last time he had been to an Admirals game. Must have been at least eight years ago. No, longer, because he’d never seen Hunter play except on television.
Jesus, am I just going to think about Scott Hunter all the time now?
He yawned as he took his key out and unlocked the door to the shop. He needed to find a job with a later start. Getting up before five to be at work before six was ridiculous. Especially for minimum wage.
The morning went the same as most weekdays: steady rush from about seven until nine, and then a bit of quiet before the customers Maria had dubbed the “yoga moms” started to trickle in.
“Your boyfriend had a good night last night,” Maria said as she restocked the orange bowl.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Scott Hunter. Scored, like, a million goals or something.”
“Threegoals,” Kip corrected her, “and two assists.”
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you were such a hard-core fan.”
“I’m not! I read the paper on the way here. It’s, like, big news or whatever.”
“Oh my god! You are mad crushing on him right now! You went home last night and Google-image-searched Scott Hunter, didn’t you?”
“No!”Yes.
“Whatever. You are such a fanboy. So cute.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
Maria stacked oranges and Kip swept the floor behind the counter even though it wasn’t that dirty. He just hated standing around doing nothing.
At a little past ten, the door opened and Kip was once again faced with Scott Hunter in sweaty workout clothes.
This time Maria was there to witness it. “Holy shit.”
Kip elbowed her as subtly as possible.
“Good morning again, Kip,” the man who was definitely Scott Hunter said.
“Good morning, um...Jesus.You’re Scott Hunter, right?”
He looked amused. “I am.”
“That is so awesome,” Maria breathed.
“It’s, um,” Kip started, then switched courses. “Great game last night.”
“Thanks! Thought I might get another one of those blueberry smoothies. When something goes right in my game, I like to try to repeat what I did that day.”
“Right,” Kip said. Scott’s eyes were blue. They were so blue.
“So...another blueberry smoothie, please.”
