Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
A flare of aggravation started to rise within me. My teammates knew damn well that I wanted to be left alone on game days. My first season with the Mavericks, I’d put a sign on my locker telling people not to talk to me on game days, but some teammates ignored it. Nash was my best friend on the team, but he still enjoyed messing with me.
“Go away,” I said.
He didn’t.
“When’s the second date? I’m guessing never?”
“Who says I want to go out with her again?”
Nash scoffed. “I’d bet my earnings from this game that you do. Between one and ten, you’re usually around a level-five asshole on game days, but today you’re more like an eight. You either went out with her and it didn’t go well, or it did go well and you asked her out again and she said no.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“I’ll tell you how my date goes.”
“Don’t care. Fuck off.”
“Okay, but seriously,” he said. “Did you order me some spaghetti Bolognese?”
“Yes, but I will eat it myself if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”
He chuckled. “No, you won’t. You eat one order of that chicken spinach pasta from Giovanna’s before every home game and that’s it.”
The timer on my phone sounded and I reached for the towel next to the tub and dried my hand off before turning off the timer.
“Go see if the delivery guy came yet,” I said, standing up.
“Okay. Did you tip him yet?”
“Yes. I paid for everything.”
“Thanks, dude.”
“You are welcome. Now leave me alone.”
I dried off and dressed, then went to the weight room so I could eat my pregame meal in peace. After I finished, I drank the sixteen ounces of water I’d brought into the weight room with me, and then sat down on a mat and closed my eyes.
Before every home game, I did things the exact same way. I tried to mimic my routine during road games, but it wasn’t as easy. Even on the road, though, I always did this part.
This was my time for a mental run-through of my opponents. First thing this morning, I’d watched game film of Nashville. I knew every offensive player’s stats from last season, but I still liked to watch film before every game.
As a team, their record was 45–28–9 last year. Their team captain, Jack Cavanaugh, was the one I had to keep the closest eye on. He had a face-off win percentage of 57.43 last season, as well as 67 takeaways and 21 giveaways. As someone who didn’t turn the puck over much but was good at stealing it, he was the kind of player who won games.
I had teammates who played with their hearts. Wes Kirby was one of those. He had keen instincts and I admired that about him. My instincts had never gotten me far—I relied on statistics to guide many of my decisions on the ice.
The timer on my phone sounded once again, indicating it was time for me to eat two Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I went back to the locker room and took out the package, eating each one the same way. First I ate the crinkled edges around the cup, and then I ate the center.
“Yo,” Drew said, sitting down next to me. “I know you don’t want to talk, but I just wanted to say, if you need someone to confide in about your date, I’m always here, man.”
I shrugged. “It was good. I enjoyed it.”
“Good. You guys going out again?”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Did Nash tell you to ask me?”
“No.”
Drew was our goalie, and he was the oldest member of the team. He had a wife and kids and wasn’t one to mess with people just for fun. Still, I knew Nash well enough to know how persistent he could be, and he was dying to know about my date with Sheridan.
“She does not want to go out with me again,” I said, my tone so low it was almost a whisper.
“How come?”
I shrugged. “She said she is very busy with going back to work, and that maybe when things settle down she will have time.”
Drew furrowed his brow. “Huh. So give me a quick rundown. How long was the first date?”
I calculated. “Nine and a half hours.”
His brows shot up. “Oh. So it was good.”
“It was great.”
He nodded. “And you guys…spent the night together?”
“Yes. Most of it. I had to leave at three thirty so I could sleep for a little before my workout.”
“And she was cool with that?”
I shrugged. “I did not ask; I just left. She was sleeping.”
His expression changed, but I wasn’t sure why. “And then you called or texted her later that day?”
I shook my head. “No. We had our road trip. I called her the day before we came back.”
I didn’t understand his single note of laughter.