Page 41 of Slapshot
“Actually, can I take a rain check? Paxton wants to work on some passing drills.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Less work for me.” For reasons I can’t understand, I’m disappointed.
“Sorry. It’s just that Pax is offering his time and I need all the help I can get.”
“It’s fine.”
“Wanna hang later?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure what my plans are.” I have absolutely none, but I’m not going to be at his beck and call.
“All right. Well, how about I call you when I’m done and see if you’re free?”
“Sure, whatever.” I turn so that my focus is back on the pile of things I need to do before I can leave.
I don’t hear him step forward, but his warm breath tickles the shell of my ear when he leans in. “Be free and I’ll make it up to you.”
* * *
I’m cleaning up my room and keeping myself busy while I postpone texting Lex back. He texted as soon as he was free to see if I wanted to hang out, but I’m making him sweat it out a bit more before I respond.
When my phone rings, I jump for it expecting Lex.Dad.Aside from a text that asked how my classes were going, I haven’t heard from him since I started working as the equipment manager. Which has been nice because I’m not sure how I feel about telling him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says when I answer. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.” I smooth out my comforter and fluff the pillows on my bed. “Just studying and picking up my room.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. How are your classes?”
I roll my eyes. “They’re fine, Dad. I’m making straight A’s.”
“All right, all right. I worry is all. I didn’t keep track as well as I should have when you were at Barnard—”
“Dad, seriously. I’m doing fine.” And I really am. The past two years at Barnard taught me a lot. Lessons I’m grateful for and others I’d rather forget.
“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “What else have you been up to?”
“Nothing really. Classes, work…” I slap the back of my hand against my forehead. Well, I guess he knows I have a job now.
“A job?”
“Yes. It’s part-time.”
“Is it on campus?”
“It is.”
“And it won’t interfere with your studying?”
I bristle. Some part of me still wants his approval, even if I tell myself I don’t need it. I think the thing that annoys me the most is knowing he’d never question my grades or time management if he knew I was working with the hockey team. Especially at his precious alumni.
“It won’t interfere. My grades are fine.”
“You said that when you were at Barnard too.”
“It was one mistake and I’ve already apologized for disgracing the Dalager name.”
He sighs. “I didn’t call to argue.”
