Page 11 of Arresting the Hockey Player
"I did," I say, trying to make it sound convincing. "After one night together, I knew we were meant to be. She is the hockey stick to my puck."
"Gross," Jasper mutters. "And I think you got that analogy backward, but I'm happy for you both. And while I'm thoroughly confused—good for you, knowing what you want and having the balls to do something about it."
"You two can't be serious," Amber says. There's no mirth in her tone. I glance at the phone between us and then at Charlotte, waiting for her to break it to her friend that we're joking. "Neither of you want kids or marriage. And you're suddenly engaged after one date? I don't believe it."
Charlotte grins. "It was a really good coffee date. He brought me to the arena, and we played hockey on the ice after we shared an amazing cup of coffee."
"You're funny," Amber says. "I like that the two of you thought you could trick us. Nice try. Have a fun night, you two."
Amber ends the call, and Charlotte plops back down on the sofa beside me.
"That was fun," she says, nudging me with her arm. "Anyone else we can try to convince? Jasper was really going along with it."
"Yeah," I say and show her the emoji he just sent, flipping me his middle finger via text. "He'll probably give me crap about it at practice tomorrow, but it'll be worth it. Especially when I tell his brother he fell for it."
"Sounds like you guys are close."
"Yeah, we have to be. Part of the sport."
"True," Charlotte says with a shrug. "I suppose you guys kind of have to read each other's minds."
"Body language, signals, that sort of thing for the game."
She stands and heads for the fridge. "Can I grab you anything? Water? Wine? I think there might be some juice in the fridge."
"I'll have whatever you're having," I say.
"Wine, it is. I keep my red in the fridge. Some people freak out about it, but I prefer my wine cold."
I raise an eyebrow at her. "You monster," I joke as she brings the bottle of unopened wine to the living room along with the corkscrew.
"Think you can open this for me?" she asks, depositing the corkscrew in one hand and the wine bottle in the other. She saunters back to the kitchen, and I can't help but watch her walk as she goes to retrieve two wine glasses.
She's like fire with her bright red hair and mesmerizing gaze. I've spent more time with her tonight than I do most girls in an evening.
"I think I can manage," I say as she returns with the wine glasses, placing them on the coffee table. In a matter of seconds, I have the wine bottle opened, and I'm pouring us each a glass, handing one to Charlotte.
I lift my glass, prepared to make a simple toast, and my cell phone lights up even though it's on silent. I glance at the screen and wince.
Jasmine.
When I don't answer quickly enough and the call goes to voicemail, she calls back.
She's always been persistent.
I take a swig of the wine and pour more from the bottle.
Charlotte tilts her head, staring at me. "Everything okay?" Her voice is calm, peaceful, and she has no idea I'm about to be swept up by a hurricane.
I don't want to take the call. If Jasmine is reaching out to me, it's some new drama she's involved in and needs help. I flip the phone over, the screen face down. I'm done with her. Done with the drama.
"It's nothing. Just anold friend." The bitter taste stains my lips at the words that leave my mouth.
"Ex-girlfriend?" she muses.
"Yeah, but we're over. Been over for years. She's married, so I'm unsure why she's calling me." I run a hand through my hair, grab the wine bottle, and refill my glass.
"Sounds complicated." Charlotte smiles, not jealous or unnerved by what I tell her. It's nice to see that she's got a strong sense of self-confidence. Honestly, that's hot. "First love?" she guesses.
