Page 18 of Daring the Hockey Player
She laughed.
The minute the game ends, I yank his jersey off and ball it into my fists. What the hell am I supposed to do with it? If I bring it onto the subway, it'll stink up the whole rail car.
"Do you want to wait for the crowd to thin?" I ask.
"Yes, no sense in fighting the subway crowd." She stretches and stands, her gaze moving around the place.
I remain seated and glance through my phone, and my friend nudges me with her knees.
"Any more texts from the hottie?"
"Thankfully, no. I can't believe you texted him using my phone!" I'm still a bit peeved that she grabbed my phone and then used it against me to unlock it. Stupid face identification.
"I can't believe you fell for the oldest trick in the book," Charlotte says. "It's obvious he likes you. He wouldn't have given you that nasty thing if he didn't." She gestures at the jersey in my hands.
"Thank you for at least agreeing it's nasty." I exhale a heavy sigh. "I should probably return it."
She plops down beside me on the chair when she catches me stalking his Instagram feed. I've been staring at it for a few minutes. She was bound to notice. A new image pops up with him and the guys. They're outside some bar, Blue Line, and it looks like he just took the picture.
"We're going there," Charlotte says and grabs my hand, practically dragging me out of my seat. The crowd has thinned from the seats, and if we wait too much longer, we'll get kicked out by security anyhow.
In my hands, I still have Jasper's sweaty jersey. Although, now, it doesn’t seem quite as wet and gross. It still reeks, but there's a hint of Jasper's scent mingled with the dragon slayer sweat.
"I don't know," I say, my voice trembling. "What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"He gave you his jersey during the game. He wants to see you."
Charlotte makes a valid point, but that doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach or my hands from trembling.
"Wouldn't he have invited me if he wanted me to come?" I ask. She glances at her phone, grabbing GPS directions as we hurry out of the arena and onto the street.
It's dark outside and chilly. I'm half tempted to put the stinky jersey back on to keep warm, but instead, it remains in my grip with my trembling hands.
When we reach the Blue Line, I stand outside for a minute, my feet not working.
"Come on." Charlotte links her arm in mine.
"I can't do this," I say, shaking my head, self-doubt beginning to creep in.
"Why not?" she asks, turning around to face me.
"You and I are complete opposites. I hide behind my phone and my laptop. You go in there like a hurricane and get what you want. That isn't me."
Charlotte smiles, her shoulders seeming to relax. "So, just waltz in there, hand him back his disgusting jersey, and turn and walk away."
I can do that. "Okay," I say. "But you'll wait out here?"
Charlotte nods. "I'll wait at the bar and get us drinks."
"I can live with that," I say and step inside the bar. It's dark and crowded, and I'm glancing around, looking for Jasper. I could have been wrong. Maybe the picture he posted wasn't taken today. Wouldn't I feel like an idiot? Of course, he'd never have to know.
And that's when I meet his stare. He's at a table in the back, nearly hidden by the crowd. I suck in a nervous breath, try to remember to exhale and stalk across the bar.
"This is yours," I say, shoving the stinky jersey into his hands.
His brow is pinched, and he stands and pulls me aside, out of earshot of his buddies. I don't blame him. This probably isn't a conversation I'd want my friends to witness, either.
"What are you doing?" Jasper asks, his eyes wide.
