Page 195 of Playing the Pucking Game
What if she’s dancing with some asshole who has his hands all over her right now?
Jealousy and anger shoot through me; how I manage to stay seated is beyond me.
“You’re on edge,” Kodie observes.
A laugh tumbles free. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Anything to do with someone I know?” he asks quietly so the others can’t hear.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I mutter.
He shakes his head, but there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “Fun, isn’t it?”
Handsy refuses to let us leave the restaurant until we’ve ordered one of every dessert on the menu for him to try. We oblige because…well, he’s our goalie, and we owe him everything.
By the time we leave, we’re all full, and everyone but me seems to be in high spirits.
“We should hit a bar,” Monroe calls from the back of our group.
“Are you even old enough for that?” Kodie deadpans.
“My ID is legit, fuck you very much,” Monroe quips back, making us all laugh.
“I’m in,” Killer states. “Hands? Linc?”
I consider his question for two seconds tops. “Nah, I’m not feeling it tonight. I’m gonna just head back.”
“We’ve got a game tomorrow,” Fletch points out.
“I know, Cap. I’m not suggesting we stay out late. One drink and a little dance.”
“Yeah, I’m out,” Fletch muses. “And if I hear that any of you came crawling back in sometime before dawn, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”
“Yes, Cap,” Killer, Handsy, Brit, and Monroe sing as they salute him.
After a few minutes, they double back, heading to a club that Killer knows of, while Kodie, Fletch, and I head back to the hotel.
Fletch tells us about Reese’s work on the upcoming Valentine’s gala, while Kodie talks about Sutton’s game that he’s missing this weekend, but he’s confident they’ll get the W based on the other team’s record this season.
Listening to them both talk about their families and their lives outside of hockey hits differently than it used to. I never used to understand it. Hockey was my life. Now, though, now I can see the appeal of having someone to go home to at night. Someone who understands and accepts you for exactly who you are.
Before long, we’re walking through the entrance to the hotel. We stop to sign some things for fans before excusing ourselves to the elevators and riding up to our floors.
Fletch is one above us, so we leave him behind as we head to our room.
“At least I don’t need to worry about making myself scarce so you can have phone sex with your girl. Not when she’s right down the hall.”
“We’re not hooking up,” I argue as the hotel room door falls closed behind me.
“Okay,” he says, although his tone tells me that he doesn’t believe it for a second.
“Are you calling Casey?” I ask, aware that’ll mean I need to either lock myself in the bathroom for a bit or disappear back downstairs.
He chuckles. “You’re safe tonight. If we win tomorrow, though…”
“I know, I know. I really need to speak to Coach about getting my own room.”
“You’d miss me,” Kodie deadpans as he toes his sneakers off and drags his shirt over his head.
