Page 59 of Thrown for a Loop
“The doctor wants to put his X-ray up on the wall of his office!” Weber hoots. “Dude said he never saw anything like it.”
“Oh.” I take the deepest breath I’ve had in a long time. “Okay, wow.”
Darcy emerges from the clot of hockey players to tug me toward the bar. “Step aside! This woman deserves a margarita.”
“She sure does,” Tremaine agrees, following us. “Coach Zoe, can you straighten out O’Connell’s taste in music next? He thinks Nickelback is a good band.”
The players roar.
“It is, you snob!” O’Connell yells from somewhere nearby.
The captain shakes his head. Then he taps the bar. “Could I please have two more of the imperial stout—plus whatever these two ladies feel like drinking?” He gestures at me and Darcy. “Thanks, man.”
“That’s nice of you,” I say.
“Only the best for Coach Zoe! I think you just saved the day.” He gives my arm a quick squeeze. “And Darcy does that every other day.”
I turn toward Darcy, who’s blushing and biting her lip.Interesting.I wait until Tremaine walks away before I poke her in the knee. “You have a thing for the captain?”
“No!” she yelps, her expression scandalized. “Be real. How about a margarita? Fair warning—they make them with blood orange juice. But it’s still our thing.”
“Sounds amazing,” I say as the bartender sets a coaster in front of each of us. “And could I possibly see a menu?”
“Two blood orange margaritas, coming up,” he says. “Is your name Zoe, by chance?”
I blink. It’s so odd that all the bartenders of North America seem to know my name. “Yes?”
“Oh good,” he says. “Because the kitchen just closed, but someone put in an order for you just at the last second.”
“For me?”
“One moment,” he says. “I’ll bet it’s ready.” He strides away.
“Darcy? Did you…?”
She shakes her head.
I roll my shoulders. “I just finished eight hours in a hockey arena watching sweaty nineteen-year-olds try to kill each other.”
“It’s too bad all-night nail salons aren’t a thing,” Darcy says. “But I found us a spot for tomorrow! And I got us eighth-row seats for the game.”
“Thegame,” I breathe. “I get an actual seat?”To watch Chase play?There have been moments over the last decade when I was sorely tempted to buy a ticket off StubHub and see him play. Not that I ever went through with it.
“Of course you do,” she says, draining her drink and setting aside the empty glass. “Oh—and O’Connell turned over his video clips to Steve Sailor, who’s having them professionally edited.”
I groan. “And to think I once believed professional hockey was a serious business.”
“Oh, it is, if you mean seriously weird. The PR department is going to milk that video. They’ll publish O’Connell’s thing, and then they’ll probably recut it with your old video. Like,Who wore it best?”
“Oh God.”
She elbows me. “The airport video is fun. And it’s nice to see the team rallying around Chase.”
“They are?”
“Of course they are. Zoe, they made a prank video of themselves dancing like goobers. That takes balls. What theydidn’tdo was post all over social media about their teammate shoving a fan in a bar. You get me? It’s pack behavior.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. “I never thought about it that way. I’ve never been part of a team.”
