Match Game: A Fake Dating Hockey Romance

14. Griffin

That was a brutal loss.

My teammate’s heads are all down, and the locker room is quiet as we all get lost in our own thoughts about how that could have ended up better than it did.

It wasn’t a blowout by any means. We actually only lost by one goal, but I think that’s why it stings more than if we had lost by five. Because it was in our grasp, and they just happened to score another goal with two minutes left in the period.

Mack is hurting that he missed that goal. I’ve reassured him that he shouldn’t harp too much on it, but he does anyway. He knows that he’s had a solid record, and this will definitely be something that the commentators talk about tomorrow. This loss doesn’t define anything other than an additional number against us on our record. I’m still confident that we’ll make the playoffs, which is when we’re going to have to put our heads in the game to come out victorious.

Ross announces to the team that we’re going to work to turn those frowns upside down and go out to a bar. I don’t feel wholly enthused about going out because I fear that someone is going to recognize us, especially because we’re going to be huddled in a group as a team.

“So what if someone recognizes us?” Ross says. “Besides, you had that whole signing with those students at Los Gatos University and didn’t freak out.”

“Yeah, because they weren’t drunk or in enemy territory.” Who knows how riled up the fans are going to be once we step foot in the bar and someone shouts that it’s us? It’ll be like West Side Story, except instead of dancing interludes, it’s drunken fist fights.

“We’ll be fine. We’ll just go somewhere where there will be so many people that they won’t recognize us.”

I sigh and let Ross lead the way. Our hotel is close to a lot of bars, so it’s an easy walk to a nearby spot that is already packed to the brim with hometown fans.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea. It looks like they were done with the game and traveled over here. They’re probably still riding the high of winning.”

“Just keep your eyes on the prize,” Ross advises. He keeps his gaze forward and enters the bar once we all show the guard our IDs. I join Ross at the bar, and he asks me what I want to drink.

“Just a beer,” I tell him. “Um...whatever this West Coast IPA is.”

“Shot?” Ross asks me.

“No shot!” I yell. I’m way past the point of shots. Tomorrow might be a travel day and we don’t have to be ready for practice, but I would still like to be somewhat functioning.

“Party pooper.” Ross sticks out his tongue at me, and I roll my eyes. The bartender gives me my beer, and Ross and the other guys find a booth where we all sit down.

We get ourselves acquainted, and as the loud music plays throughout the bar, I look up to already see some of the rookies talking to a group of women.

“God, these kids, am I right?” I nudge Ross.

“I’d recommend that you do the same thing, but I already know you have a certain name tattooed on your heart.”

I look away. I might have Lydia’s name engraved on my heart, in my body, everywhere in my mind, but I fucked things up with her. She hasn’t even talked to me since Saturday, and I’m losing it. She’s fully got me wrapped around her finger, even if she doesn’t know it.

The only thing I’ve let her know since then is that she can take as long as she needs to think about things between us. I hate that I’ve put the ball in her court because it truly shows that she doesn’t want anything to do with me and that I ruined a very good thing. I don’t want her to lose her job. The circumstances are really not in her favor. She has to try and raise almost a hundred thousand dollars by the end of the school year or risk being defunct. Of course, I want to help. I have the money, which, hearing that, it does make me sound like a spoiled brat. But I worked hard to get where I am, and I want to help.

The idea comes to me as I’m sipping on my beer and watching a few players now on the dance floor, grinding with strangers. I don’t need to write a check for the amount of money they need; I can do my own work to fundraise and be the spokesperson. It worked well to get people in the door during Homecoming, and it can work for this.

“Hey,” I yell at Ross over the blaring music. “I need your help with something.”

“What?” he yells back.

“I need your help to get the team to donate to Lydia’s esports team.”

“What?” He looks at me, confused. “I thought you wanted my help getting you drunk or something. What’s this about Lydia’s esports team?”

“She needs to raise money so that they can keep esports at her school, and she can keep her job. I tried to just cut a check for the rest of the money, but she got mad at me for ‘wasting my money on something like this.’ And then she stopped talking to me.”

“Wait!” Ross scoots back in his chair. “Are you and Lydia fighting?”

“No!” I don’t think we are? But I’m also not enjoying the position that we’re in right now. “She’s...kind of angry with me and hasn’t responded to any of my texts. But I really care about her, and I want her to keep doing what she loves. So I’m going to fundraise the money as much as I can and contribute the rest. To show her that I did something to help out.”

“Wow,” Ross pretends to wipe a tear from his face. “You’re really in love, aren’t you?”

“What?! Love? No. Love’s a strong word.” I don’t think I love Lydia. I’m enjoying the connection that I have with her. Even if the intent was to be fake at first, I’m done playing fake with Lydia. I want to see if there’s a way to give us a real shot.

“I really like her,” I tell Ross, smiling when I say “like her.” I don’t think I ever stopped from the day that we started playing games. Now that I’ve spent time with her, it has only reinforced the fact that she’s just as amazing in real life as she was online.

“I’m just trying to do what I can to make it better. I know that it was originally all a ruse, but I think I’m ready for something real.” I already passed the test of interacting with fans. I think I’m feeling a lot more confident in my ability to be approached and not get anxious about the outcome. It hasn’t been long since Lydia and I met, but I feel like I’ve made really good progress.

“Okayyyy,” Ross says. He doesn’t look convinced. “You have to walk the walk if you’re going to talk the talk.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Dude. I feel like you’re being too casual about this because you had one good experience with a group of fans. What happens when you get stormed by the paparazzi, and you can’t protect Lydia?”

I blink my eyes shut and turn away from him. I don’t want to think about it. I’d like to think that I’ll just deal with it when it happens, but maybe Ross is onto something. Maybe I’m underestimating how badly this could get out of hand. Regardless, in the moment, I’d protect Lydia at all costs. It doesn’t matter how I feel as long as she’s taken care of.

“I don’t want to think about it,” I tell him.

“Suit yourself,” Ross shrugs, sipping on his colorful cocktail. “I’m critical because I care.”

Then care less, I want to tell him. I’m starting to not like the feeling of people telling me they know what my best interests are, and not letting me figure it out for myself.

I scoot to the end of the booth and stand up to get another drink. Screw other people’s contradictory best wishes. If I want something and think I have the willpower to get it, then I will.

I stand up at the bar next to a short, blonde-haired woman. I can only see her side profile, but that face looks strangely familiar.

“Hey,” I nudge her. “Tori?”

She looks up at me and gasps, her pearly white teeth on display. “Oh my god, Griffin Markey?”

“Yeah,” I grin. I reach down to give her a hug. “Funny meeting you here. You live in Denver?”

“I moved here last year for work. Before then, I was in Jersey, but I wanted to move West and experience a new city for a change.”

“That’s awesome.” Tori Lambeau and I met in college. She would frequent our parties. As a cheerleader and Homecoming Queen, she was highly sought after. At the time, I was one of the people who chased after her. We spent a night together here and there, nothing official. She’s great company, and I think a part of me will always think of her as a friend.

“Yeah,” she says, paying for her drink. “I cheer for the Denver Broncos now, which is really fun. And I see you’re still on the rink playing for San Jose.”

“Yup. My tenth season. And I’ll only stop if they force me to.”

“That’s super cool, Griffin. It’s nice to see that you haven’t changed a bit.” She steps closer to me and caresses her hand over mine. I swallow, frozen in place. I did enjoy Tori’s company when we were together, and it seems like she’s used to being in the spotlight, with being on a football cheerleading team. Is this the kind of person that I’m meant to be with?

“Would you, by chance, be free tomorrow? Maybe drinks? Catch up?” She leans in closer to me, like she’s wanting something more from me. And while the memories appear of us fooling around back then, I’m not feeling any attraction to her right now.

I breathe and retreat from her. “I’m sorry, Tori. I’m not really looking to date if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“Oh!” She steps back. “No, no, I’m so sorry. I was reading this all wrong.”

“It’s okay. I...I think I have feelings for someone else too.” My intoxication is starting to cause my brain to spill some feelings that I haven’t yet admitted out loud.

“And are these feelings something she knows about?”

I shake my head. “She’s...not like me. I mean, she’s smart, fun to be around, beautiful, but she’s not famous. And I’m afraid that if I thrust her into my very famous life, I’m not going to be able to protect her from a lifetime of people constantly watching her every move.”

“Well, I think if you really care about her, then you’ll figure it out. I mean, shit. Do you know how many people comment on my photos when I’m dancing and tell me I’m not pretty enough, or my body looks a certain way? It’s every damn day that I get these jabs at how people think I need to be a perfect person if I’m going to be documenting my life online. And you know what I do? I keep on going. I’m not living my life to appease them. I’m living it to appease me. So do the thing that’s going to make you happy. Who gives a shit what other people think? You shouldn’t. You’d never feel like you’re doing enough, then.”

“Thanks, Tor.” I wrap an arm around her and pull her in. “You’re right. I’m going to do what I want because I deserve to be happy and find love.”

“There you go. And hey, next time you’re in Denver, I hope you’ll bring your girlfriend with you.”

“I hope so, too.” I nod. “I’m gonna go give her a call right now.”

I take my drink outside, where the cool air blows against my face, and the loud noise of people talking over one another is nowhere to be heard. I take a deep breath and press the phone button on Lydia’s contact page.

It rings for a few seconds before I hear her pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” I croak. I forgot how much I love hearing her voice. “Um. I...wanted to check to see how you were doing.”

“Oh. I’m doing well. Really well, actually. Today was the first day of this esports conference here in Vegas, and I was kind of bracing for something bad to happen. Like people would just make sexist comments like I’ve heard daily, but it’s the complete opposite.”

I start to grin. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I had a panel today, um, about women in esports. And the panel was full of people who were excited to hear about the things women are doing in esports. I was on a stage with, like, Esports Community Managers, and professional women gamers...it was surreal. A student came up to me afterward and told me that I was an inspiration for her to go into the industry after she graduates. It’s...I really wish that you could be here to see it.”

“I wish I could be too.” If there was a way that I could take a car right now to Vegas and surprise her, I would.

“Lydia...” I begin.

“I’m sorry, Griffin,” she cuts in. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you over the donation. It’s this instinct in me to work hard for something I’m passionate about. I don’t want everything to be just handed to me like it’s on a silver platter. But this week, I came with the goal in mind I wanted to network and meet as many people as I could. And everyone I met shared their insights with me on how to make it in the industry. They advised me that I should take the help that I can because if one person believes in what I do, that’s enough to keep going.”

“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “You know I just want you to be happy and continue doing what you love.”

“Yeah. I do.”

A beat of silence passes before Lydia speaks up again.

“I miss you, Griffin.”

It feels like my world stops at those four words. It’s what I’ve wanted to hear for so long from her, reverberating through my ears. The four words that snap something in me to not sit here and let time pass by. The four magical words that tell me I need to tell Lydia how I really feel.

“I miss you too,” I reply. “How long are you in Vegas for?”

“I leave Wednesday. So another day of some programming, a banquet to end the night, and we fly out the next morning back to San Jose.”

I start looking up flights on my phone. I can take the first flight out of Denver and make it to Las Vegas in two hours. I don’t have to be back in San Jose until Wednesday anyway, so what’s wrong with making a slight detour?

“Okay.” I act nonchalant while watching my phone tell me my flight to Vegas has been confirmed. “Well, I’ll see you when you get back then?”

“Yes. I’ll see you then. Dumplings included.”

“Dumplings included. Later, Lydia.”

“Bye, Griffin.”

She hangs up the phone, and I quickly race back inside to tell Ross about my plan.

“Hey,” he greets me. “Where have you been? I saw you talking to a woman at the bar... are you and Lydia...”

“We’re good. That was someone I went to college with. But Lydia and I, I think we’re going to be okay. I’m actually flying out tomorrow morning to surprise her at her conference in Vegas.”

“What?!” Ross’s jaw drops. “You’re flying to Vegas? When?”

“Tomorrow morning. We don’t have to be back home until Wednesday for practice, anyway.”

“And Lydia has no idea you’re doing this?”

I shake my head. I’m hoping that when she says she misses me, she truly means it. Otherwise, it’ll be awkward that I just bought a plane ticket to Las Vegas without any other reason than to “get the girl.” I guess I can enjoy a nice meal and play a couple card games to make it feel like it wasn’t completely for just one person.

“Boy, you really are in love,” Ross says. “Well, I’m eager to see how you’ll pull this off. Mind if I tag along?”

“Um...I mean, I guess so. If this whole thing with Lydia goes well, then I’m probably leaving you in the dust.”

“That’s okay,” he shrugs. “I’m gonna have my own fun in Vegas. You get your girl, dude.”

“Alright then, looks like we’re heading to Vegas tomorrow.”