Page 50 of Wildcat
“What room are you in?” he asks.
“I’m not telling you that.” I pull on shorts and a T-shirt while holding the phone to my ear.
“I’m not going to break in. I might want to bring coffee in the morning.”
My stomach flutters. “I have a coffee machine in my room.”
“It isn’t the same.”
He’s right about that. “Room three oh three.”
“We’re on the same floor. I’m in three forty two.”
He’s so close.
“My dad is next door.”
“Right,” he says, then falls quiet.
“You must be tired.” I fake a yawn. “I know I am.”
He emits a low, quiet chuckle. “Kicking me off the phone already?”
I don’t answer.
“What are you doing when we get back tomorrow night?”
“Sleeping.” We’re not set to arrive back in Minnesota until midnight.
“Monday?”
“I’m working.”
“You don’t get the day off with the rest of us?”
“I’m not working at the arena.”
“Oh. The bar?”
“Sort of. Mike has a liquor rep that needed someone to do a promotion for a new flavored vodka. It’s just for a few hours at this new paintball bar downtown.” I think he feels bad for not giving me more hours at the bar. Regardless, I appreciate it.
“I’ve heard of that place. Sounds awesome. What about after?”
“You have a game Tuesday.”
“Keeping track of my schedule?”
“Your schedule is my job.”
His laughter makes me giddy.
“Go out with me Monday night.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? I used my phone and everything.”
“Because I don’t date athletes.”
