Page 29 of Thrown for a Loop
There’s more cheering, and Chase remembers where he is. He regretfully lets go of Zoe’s hand and takes a cheeky bow.
Martina’s voice cuts through the merriment. “Beautiful. You two are quite a pair.” But Chase barely hears her. All he feels is the aftershock of being so in sync with another person. He hopes Martina dreams up a hundred more things for the two of them to demonstrate. Just so he can have more of the potent drug that is skating with Zoe.
Chapter 11
Present Day
After the bartender’s phone call, I scramble into some clothes and grab my Legends jacket. Then I take off running up Eighth Avenue.
I’m out of breath by the time I reach the bar, and my bad knee aches. But when I throw open the door, I have a flash of déjà vu. Several of the beer-belly guys are still in their circular booth, where I left them hours ago.
Furthermore, they catcall me when I walk in, exactly like they did earlier tonight. Except this time they sound louder and sloppier.
The bigger change, though, is that Chase is standing at the bar, more or less in the same spot where I watched the game earlier. His elbows are parked on the wood surface, and his head is hanging down, as if in exhaustion. Harp—the bartender—speaks quietly to him.
But I’m the one who’s supposed to convince him to leave? He’s no more likely to listen to me than he is to write a haiku in my honor.
Harp looks up. “Oh, hey, Zoe.”
Chase’s body jolts at the sound of my name. Slowly, he turns his head in my direction. And when he finds me, his expression opens up. In a flash, I see the old Chase—the blue-eyed party boy who was always happy to see me.
But just as suddenly he’s gone. His chin dips toward the emptyglass in front of him, and his mouth tightens. “Can I get another beer?”
“Not tonight,” the bartender says as I close the distance between us.
“Chase, hi,” I say cheerfully. As if this were any meetup between two old friends. “What are you up to?”
“Drinkin’,” he grunts.
“Any particular reason?”
“What do you care? Just… out having fun.”
“Hey, loser!” shouts one of the beer bellies. “We need a minute of your time!”
“Fuck off,” Chase grumbles.
“You know what, Chase? We’re going to have to work on your concept of fun.”
He swings his chin in my direction and squints at me. “Zoe, what are you doing?”
“I live in the neighborhood.”
“Of course you do. Fuck my life.” He gives his head an exaggerated shake. “But I meant—what are you doing in New York? What do you want from me?”
I hesitate, wondering how truthful I’m allowed to be. “Look, the Legends were the only team who would hire me right now. But also…” I swallow hard. “Eighteen-year-old Zoe wants some closure. I admit it. But grown-up Zoe just wants to win some hockey games and keep her job. I’d really like to fix your skating.”
Chase snorts drunkenly. “You do, huh? You think others haven’t tried? You thinkIhaven’t tried?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I say quickly. “But I think I have something to offer. I’m good at what I do.”
“You always were,” he mutters. “That was never the problem.”
My heart stumbles.Then what was?I take a calming breath. “Listen, I know you hate me…”
He turns. “You know that, huh?” His eyes may be squinty tonight, but they’re still a startling shade of blue. “You got me all figured out?”
“Well, yeah. You’ve ignored all my messages.”
