Page 58 of Daring the Hockey Player
I press my lips together and refrain from making some torrid joke comparing the size to a man's cock. It's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't bring myself to do it.
My nervousness seems to be reappearing, and I ball my hands into fists and then fold them across my chest.
Jasper doesn't seem to notice my discomfort, or he acts like it doesn't exist. "The bedrooms," he says and gestures for me to follow. "My room." He points and opens the door for a few seconds, long enough for me to get a quick glimpse. He shoves the mysterious bag inside his bedroom by the door.
The bed is made, but there are a few clothes spilled out of his overflowing laundry basket on the floor.
Are they clean or dirty? It's not the first time I've seen his bedroom, but my head hit the pillow the last time, and the rest is a bit of a blur.
"And your room, which we need to tidy up, or at least, I need to tidy up, and you can sit and watch television or keep me company," Jasper says.
"I can help," I say.
"You might regret that offer." Jasper opens the bedroom door to the guest room. Inside, there are piles of books stacked from the floor to my waist and the table tennis table resting against the mattress vertically against the wall.
There's a dresser in the corner, the only piece of furniture that is actually in a decent place and doesn't seem like it needs moving.
In the middle of the floor is a huge, black bag that could seriously contain a human. "What the hell is in there?" I ask and point at the oversize duffel.
"Work stuff."
"Work? Where the hell do you moonlight that involves dead bodies?"
Jasper chuckles. "The NHL, and while there are a few rivals I'd like to see dead," he stalks past me and bends down, unzipping the black duffel, "sorry to disappoint, but no dead bodies. Just extra hockey equipment."
I feel dumb. Of course, Jasper works for the NHL. That's his profession. He's a hockey player. "What's your gear doing here? Don't you keep it, like, at the stadium?"
"The team has an equipment manager who handles everything, but I've got gear from before I joined the NHL. I can't just throw it out."
"You could donate it," I suggest. "Or sign it and give it to charity if you're not using it. I imagine it would go for quite a bit of money at a charity auction."
He smiles warmly. "You give me too much credit." He grabs the duffel and lugs the massive bag, throwing it into the coat closet, which is now overstuffed with three coats, two pairs of shoes, and a huge hockey bag.
"What do you want to do with all the books?" I ask, glancing them over. There's a pile of textbooks. He had gone to college at some point. Jasper never mentioned being a student, although I don't imagine that he'd be enrolled anymore, with the NHL keeping his schedule busy.
"Those," he says and lets out a sigh, “we can donate.”
“Are you sure? We might be able to sell these back to the school where you bought them. They all look pristine.”
“That’s because I never opened them,” Jasper says. “I debated with college or the NHL Entry Draft. You can see which one won. Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely no regrets other than spending money on those giant paperweights."
"You could sell them back to the bookstore," I say.
"And get twenty bucks on a three-hundred-dollar book? No, thanks. I'd rather donate it. Let some college kid get a nice surprise when they're shopping at the thrift store."
"If you do that, you might want to drop it off at a thrift store near the campus that you attended. Unless it isn't in New York?"
I don’t know much about Jasper or his past. What I know is based on our short conversations together and his social media profile, which seems like he parties and has a lot of fun with his teammates.
How much of that is real?
"We can drop it off near NYU," Jasper says.
A smile plasters my face when I realize that we could have gone to NYU at the same time, maybe even been classmates. "What were you planning to study?"
"I'm going to sound like a nerd."
"That's what you're worried about? Tell me; you know I'm going to school for microbiology."
