Page 62 of Slapshot
Patrick speaks to me. “Declan was telling us about the Frozen Four game against Harvard his junior year.”
I nod.
“Ah, I forget you probably don’t know,” Patrick says as he continues. “The semi-final game went into four overtimes before Declan made the game-winning shot.”
“I was so tired I didn’t even realize it went in until my teammates dogpiled me.”
I’d usually be grateful for hockey talk, but Kaitlyn looks uncomfortable and I have to think that’s partly all the fawning the guys are doing over her dad.
“I guess that’s where Kaitlyn got her shooting skills from,” I say. Kaitlyn looks like I’ve betrayed her as the attention is dumped on her. Oops.
“You’ve been playing?” her dad asks.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Just messing around a little.”
I smile at her as I speak to her dad. “She nearly beat me at a shootout. Left-handed too.”
“I taught her to shoot left-handed,” Declan says with a proud smile that shows his teeth. “Thought it’d give her an edge.”
“I’m going to get another drink,” Kaitlyn says and steps away.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have brought up hockey. Declan acknowledges the awkwardness with a lift of his brows and then refocuses his attention on me.
“Where are you from, Lex?”
“Phoenix.”
“Arizona is a beautiful state.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Kaitlyn stands at the bar ordering another drink.
“Oooh,” Patrick says. “They put out the desserts.” He starts backing away. “Anyone want anything?”
We both shake our head and Declan and I watch as Pat makes a beeline for the dessert table.
“What are your plans after college?” he asks me. “Are you already signed?”
A nervous chuckle escapes. “No, sir.”
“Did you play juniors?”
I shake my head. “I got a late start. I didn’t touch a hockey stick until I was sixteen.”
“Seriously?”
A knot of frustration builds in my chest. Which is absolutely ridiculous. I can’t seriously blame myself for not discovering how much I loved hockey until I was a teenager.
“It wasn’t a sport anyone I knew played. There were club teams, but I did all the usual sports my friends did. Football, baseball, basketball, track.”
Still, I fight the feeling of annoyance that I’m continually paying for those first oblivious fifteen years of my life.
“Well, I’d never be able to tell. You’re a natural.”
“Thank you.” A prick of warmth on the back of my neck. “I feel like I’m constantly playing catch-up with these guys.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret.” His smile reminds me of Kaitlyn’s. They have the same shape mouth, I decide. “That feeling never goes away.”
“You started late?”
