Page 22 of Must Love Hockey
We’re on our feet in Row D and screaming our lungs out. My new companion has really good lungs, actually. And when everything calms down, I sneak my phone out of my pocket and GoogleSilas Kelly girlfriend.
“Oh my god,” I say when the results pop up. “You're Delilah Spark.”
“All day long,” she says, her eyes on the players.
“Did Jimbo ask you to talk to me?” I yelp.
“Well, no. Heidi Jo told Silas you were here, and Silas told me that Jimbo needed someone to put in a good word. But everyone else—Leo and Jason and Heidi—they all were on board. But not in a creepy way. Cross my heart.”
I laugh nervously. “Okay, truth time. How well do you actually know Jimbo?”
She waves a hand. “We've met a few times.”
“But you're willing to talk him up anyway?” Is it me, or is this whole encounter super weird?
“The team is like a big family,” Delilah says. “Popcorn?” She offers the box to me.
“Uh, thanks.” I take a few kernels just to be social.
“You know, if a guy has a lot of nice friends, he is probably a pretty good guy. It’s a big fat clue. That's something I ignored for a long time, and I ended up regretting it. I didn’t trust my gut enough.” She turns to me. “I’m not the best person to give you advice, honestly. So you’ll have to trust your gut, too.”
Well, damn. Even as she says this, I realize my gut has been yelling a lot of things lately. And I haven’t been listening to any of them.
But maybe I should start.
“Oh, and at the end of the game I’m supposed to give you this.” She pulls a card out of her pocket. “But I’m afraid I’ll forget. So here it is now.”
The card is white plastic, with a magnetic stripe on it.Emilyis written on it in marker. “What’s this?”
“A backstage pass. In case you want to meet anyone downstairs in the locker corridor.
Gulp.
* * *
Brooklyn wins the game, 3-2, and I manage to catch James’s eye one more time when he leaves the bench. He gives me a friendly wave and a wink.
“Aw, see?” Delilah says. “He’s sweet on you. What a cutie.”
I feel a little melty inside, because it’s been such a long time since a boy tried to impress me. Flirting is completely foreign to me. No wonder I’m such a pushover.
Delilah gets up as her bodyguard beckons her to start moving toward the exit. “Coming downstairs?” she asks, pointing toward an elevator.
I shake my head. I can’t go out for drinks with another man in the middle of a fight with Charles. That’s just not right. So I thank her for her company tonight and take the subway home alone.
And, hey, when you’re not experiencing anaphylactic shock, it’s much easier to leave the stadium on your own power.
On my way, I picture Charles in Manhattan, trying to woo clients and secure his future. I doubt he was very interested in that art opening. He probably just wanted a friendly face there beside him.
He should have been more diplomatic about it, although I have some sympathy for his position. All his new responsibility at work? It’s probably awkward as hell. And he never complains.
At home, I get ready for bed in the darkened apartment I share with my mom. After tucking myself in, I send him a text.Look, I'm sorry I let you down tonight.
It’s a generous interpretation of our fight. But it leaves room for him to be generous, too. And I need that right now. I need him to be sweet and remind me why we’re a team.
His response only takes a minute to arrive.
Charles: You should be sorry. You missed a great opportunity to enrich yourself with art.
