Page 12 of Scoring Zone
Once I’m done with Liska, I walk into the defense video room to treat a defender with a sore hip flexor. I crouch to talk to him, but I’m confused when Jamal King, our second-line left winger, walks in.
“King-y, King, King,” Benz sings so loudly it echoes. “Join us. Tell us all your secrets.”
King’s bright aqua eyes sweep the room in confusion, and Drake appears in the doorway to take him to the offense video room.
“One of these days he’ll stay and play.” Benz sighs.
“He’s got his own shit to learn.” Liska glares at him.
The defender tells me quietly that King wanders into the wrong room on average once a month. I treat a few more players until it’s time for them to practice on the ice, and I get a break since no one needs my services.
I sit with Trevor. He’s drinking coffee, but the man doesn’t need any more caffeine. He’s outspoken on his quiet days.
“Should we continue our conversation?” he asks, peering at me over his to-go cup.
“About Liska lifting you? I’m good.” My eyes find Austin, and I watch him play.
“No, about your lack of fashion sense and proclivity to dress like your roommate.”
“Now you’re trying to impress me with your vocabulary,” I say dryly.
He snorts and inhales some coffee, causing a coughing fit. Liska’s at the boards in seconds.
“Down, boy. Gray’s being funny. Who knew?” Trevor finds a napkin in his bag to wipe his face, and Liska shakes his head as he skates away. After a silence, he says, “I’m sorry about the basic bitch comment. It was rude and uncalled for.”
“It’s fine.” I watch the way Liska moves for a minute to make sure he’s doing okay. “I’m not a fashionable guy, and we haven’t dressed alike in almost a week.” I wasn’t offended then or now.
“Why? What’s wrong?” he asks quickly.
I swallow the lump flavored with fear. “Nothing. Why would you say that?”
Trevor nudges me with his elbow. “You don’t think it means you’re out of sync?”
“No.” No other words come to mind. It’s Benz who believes in universal energy and the law of attraction. I don’t disbelieve, but this idea gets me thinking. Looking back, we haven’t dressed the same since the night we spent together. It usually happens several times a week. We are totally out of sync, but that’s not why we’re not dressing the same. That would be weird.
He takes pity on me and asks, “What are you wearing to the gala?”
My gaze snaps to his. “You mean the gala that’s weeks away? Why would I plan that now?”
Trevor tuts. “You are part of this organization and are representing the Enforcers at a highly publicized charity event.It’s not the time to re-wear one of your old suits.” He pointedly raises an eyebrow.
I open my mouth to ask how he knows that, but he probably guessed.
“There isn’t time to make you a custom suit. But if you come over, we can look at what I have in stock and tailor it for a Grayson-specific look.”
“Thank you?” It’s a question since I have no style.
“Don’t worry, you will thank me when you turn heads and some people can’t keep their hands off you.” He hides his sly smile with his coffee mug.
I could splurge on a new suit since I rarely buy things for myself. Austin feels guilty about our salary difference and tries to make up for it by spending money on me or prepaying bills and telling me I can pay next time.
Next time never arrives, and he pays much more than he should.
Austin’s generous and takes care of his friends. He’s the best guy I know, and I miss the way we were. If I have to pin him down, we’re having a conversation about us—tomorrow night, since he’ll be at the team hotel tonight.
It’s a relief to have a plan because even if he goes out with the team, I can stay up for this conversation.
My high hopes go straight to hell before the game even starts.
