Chapter Twenty-One
Minerva
Six months ago, if anyone had asked me if I would ever willingly spend an evening at a sports bar, surrounded by a crowd of tipsy women, screaming at a TV to cheer on a hockey game, my answer would have been a resounding, Hell, no.
Yet here I am at the Puck Drop, with a limoncello in one hand, pounding the opposite fist on the table while chanting, “Abb-ott! Abb-ott!” in time not only with the rest of my party, but with the entirety of the restaurant.
I’ve watched enough hockey in recent months to pick up on the general rules, though I’m used to being in the stands for a game.
This is the first time I’ve watched a televised game with friends.
Thanks to the choppy editing and the camerawork, I’m not entirely sure what’s happening anymore.
I’m rooting for Viktor because everyone else started chanting his name.
Viktor passes the puck to Tristan on a power play, and Tristan sends it sailing into the opposing team’s net.
Everyone in the bar screams and stomps their feet.
I’m going to crash so hard after this, but at the moment, I’m not upset by the barrage of noise.
Everyone here is celebrating because Tristan is amazing, which is true.
I’m not the only one who knows just how amazing he is, but at least we’re all on the same page.
For once, it doesn’t feel like I’m intruding on someone else’s life.
It feels like I’m allowed to be here—like I fit.
The game cuts to a commercial, prompting Knova to turn to me. Her cheeks are flushed with a mix of alcohol and excitement. “Your boy’s really on his game tonight.”
“I followed your advice.”
Knova nearly spits out a mouthful of her coffee martini.
“What advice?” Marley asks. The other women lean in to hear what I have to say.
“Knova told me that pregame blowjobs are the key to success.” I lift one shoulder. “Seems like she was right.”
“Um, pass.” Marley arches an eyebrow. “Definitely not adding that to my services list.”
“Don’t worry.” Sofia takes a delicate sip of her Sex on the Beach. “I’ve got it covered.”
“I bet you do.” Violet wiggles her eyebrows. “But, for the sake of science, I must know: how does this work for away games?”
“Phone sex,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Here’s my theory: actual sex requires a lot of physical effort—”
“If you’re doing it right,” Knova agrees, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“But blowjobs don’t require a lot of effort on the guy’s part. Mutual masturbation is similar and will do in a pinch.”
Dot’s cheeks and ears have turned bright pink, but I note that she doesn’t shy away from the conversation.
Violet whistles. “Girl, I don’t know if you’re just in the honeymoon phase, or if you’re on to something.”
“Hear me out.” I hold up a hand, ticking my points off on my fingers.
“Sex is known to release chemicals in the brain. Dopamine, serotonin, and endorphins can create a sense of euphoria and reduce anxiety. Gamma-aminobutyric acid and endocannabinoids encourage relaxation and improve focus. And vasopressin encourages emotional bonding, and I can’t prove this for sure, but I think it helps him be more in sync with his teammates?
More in tune with their cues? But don’t quote me on that. ”
“Damn.” Violet’s eyes drift up to the ceiling as she considers this. “I never thought about that.”
Dot takes a sip of her water. “I, um.” She clears her throat. “I bought these vibrating panties for when Camden’s away? And if he wins the game, I’ll wear them that night during our phone call so that he can, you know, control them. As a treat.”
Every jaw at the table drops, including mine. And here I thought we were making her uncomfortable. In fact, we should be taking notes.
“Holy shit, y’all are geniuses.” Knova pulls out her phone.
Marley shakes her head. “Every person sitting at this table is a sex pest.”
“You’re sitting at this table,” I point out.
“Oh, most definitely.” She winks as she takes a sip of her White Russian. “But I’m not trying to disguise my debauchery as science. And no, I will not be taking questions.”
We’ve missed a bit of the game, but a scream from the collective throats of the crowd around us makes everyone turn back to the TVs. I’m the only one who doesn’t look up. I’m too busy opening my notes app and typing out a reminder to look up remote-controlled sex toys later.
I blush, but it’s not the old shame. It’s warmer, lighter—like I’m finally a woman who gets to want things and say them out loud.
Who gets to be part of a circle of supportive women who do the same.
While I’m on my phone, I open the feed for the baby-monitor camera to see what Kepler’s up to. For some reason, it’s disconnected. I hope he didn’t nibble the wire again. I try to refresh, to no avail. Then again, my connection isn’t good here.
Everyone’s using the Puck Drop Wi-Fi, and the service is lagging, even when I try to check my emails. I tuck my phone away and focus on the game.
Twenty minutes later, when the Venom wins, Knova orders a round of tequila shots.
Everyone except Dot clinks glasses and throws them back, then licks salt off our hands.
I’m not familiar with this pairing, since I’ve never had people to hang out with or teach me this kind of thing.
Even in grad school, people kept their distance.
“You know what?” Knova points at me with one finger, still holding her empty shot glass. “We should hang out more.”
“We… should?” I glance at Violet to see if Knova’s messing with me, but she just smiles and nods.
“We should. I know it can be a little awkward, since we all grew up together.” She gestures around the table.
“And I don’t think you’ve met Viv, that’s Coach Metcalfe’s wife and Viktor’s sister.
She doesn’t come out as much, between work and her kid, but she hosts events for us at her house sometimes.
I like to think we’re a pretty fun group. ”
“Oh.” I blink at her. “You mean couples’ events?” This makes sense if they’re inviting Tristan, who’s their real friend, but does that mean that Marley doesn’t go?
But Marley’s the one who answers. “No offense, but I’m never introducing my partner to Knight. I need to have boundaries. Knight certainly doesn’t.”
Knova narrows her eyes. “What does that mean? He hasn’t done anything inappropriate, right?”
Marley rolls her eyes. “Depends on what you mean by inappropriate. The other day, he sent me pictures of his feet.”
Sofia groans. “You, too? I told him it was fine.” To the rest of us, she adds, “He stubbed his big toe on the kitchen island and convinced himself that he’d broken it. It didn’t even bruise. It was fine!”
“Well, apparently he wanted a second opinion.”
“And a third opinion,” Violet says. “He texted me, too. Context would have been nice. All I got was a picture of his foot and a text saying, Does this look normal?”
“That sounds like my brother.” Knova sets her glass back on the table.
“Anyway, Minerva, like I was saying, sometimes we need a break from the guys. I’ll let you know when we get together, and you can decide if you want to come, okay?
We craft, we play board games, sometimes we go to wine tastings… nothing too intense.”
“Oh.” I press my hand to my chest. “You don’t have to include me. That’s really nice, though.”
“We want to include you,” Violet insists. “No pressure, but I’d really like to see more of you.”
I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face.
I keep my head down so that my hair covers my profile.
These pretty, intelligent, funny women… like me?
I feel like I just got invited to hang out with the cool girls, except that all the cool girls I grew up with were mean and backhanded. Everyone here is so nice.
“I’d like that,” I say.
Knova claps her hands. “Then it’s settled. And on that note, Dot has to go make a very important phone call involving a pair of vibrating panties.”
Dot’s blush deepens. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s like I handed you blackmail material.”
“I beg to differ. Brilliant ideas should be shared.” Knova gets to her feet. “Who’s walking back to the condos?”
Violet, Knova, and I stick together, while Marley and Dot get rides back to their place. I lag behind, fiddling with my phone. I’m getting better service out here, but I still can’t connect to Kepler’s baby cam.
“Good night!” Violet holds out her arms to me when we reach her condo, which is more like a two-story rowhouse in this development. “Can I get a hug?”
“She’s snuggly when she’s drunk,” Knova stage whispers.
“I’m not drunk!” Violet exclaims. I’m not sure where the line between tipsy and drunk lies, but she’s definitely feeling the tequila.
She’s nowhere as near as drunk as Frankie used to get, but she’s also a lot nicer.
Frankie’s a mean drunk, and she used to blame her bad behavior on the alcohol.
Funny, how a nice person like Violet is still nice even when she’s got a few drinks in her.
It’s almost like the rotten parts of Frankie are rotten all the time. Go figure.
“You can hug me,” I say. “Thank you for asking.”
Violet throws her arms around me and gives me a big squeeze, like I’m a tube of toothpaste and she wants to get the last minty goodness out of me. “I really like you, Minerva. I hope you and Tristan work out. And if you don’t, we’ll still be friends, right?”
“Right.” I pat her back awkwardly. I’d try for a hug, but it’s hard when she’s got my arms pinned to my sides.
“Promise!” She blinks up at me.
“Stop squeezing her, Vi.” Knova tries to shoo Violet away.
“I’m not letting go until she promises to be my friend!”
“We’re friends, no matter what.” Those words have never left my mouth before. Nobody’s ever asked me to promise I’ll stick around. Violet’s name is definitely going in the green section of the whiteboard.
Violet releases me at last. Knova waits until she makes it safely through her front door before heading across the street to her own.