5. Hadley #2
Paige laughs. “Yeah, I don’t think dresses and heels will work, but you can definitely still wear the makeup.” She wiggles her eyebrows comically. “Maybe you’ll catch one of the hot hockey players' attention and become the next Mrs. Hockey.”
“Mrs. Hockey? Is that like a beauty pageant for the sports ball world or something?” Who knew!
Paige laughs loudly causing several heads to turn in our direction. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“So, that’s a no?” I ask, genuinely confused. “Who’s Mrs. Hockey, then?”
Paige looks at me, her mouth wide open. My dad would say she was trying to catch flies. “It was just an expression. There’s not actually a Mrs. Hockey.” She grabs my hand and pulls me further into the store. “Come on. We have work to do.”
Fan Gear is packed. I didn’t realize there were so many different choices in a sports store.
Rows and rows of brightly colored shirts with different names and logos are lined up along the walls.
In the center of the store are round racks with a giant “Stars and Stripes Tournament” sign hanging from the ceiling above them.
People are crowded around that section, talking over one another, and grabbing at whatever they can reach.
“Come on,” Paige says, expertly maneuvering us toward the front of the crowd. “The good stuff will all be gone.”
I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, inhale for four, hold four, slowly exhale for eight.
Once I’m calm and don’t feel like I’m trapped like a sardine in a tin can, I open my eyes.
Paige is already tossing things over her arm.
“Do you think we could come back another day? Maybe when they aren’t so busy? ” I ask, knowing her answer will be no.
“Everything will be picked over,” Paige says, handing me a stack of things. “Here, hold these.”
Someone bumps me from behind, yelling something about a power play, and immediately someone argues back something about penalties. It’s like everyone here speaks a completely different language.
I shift out of the crowd, clutching the growing pile in my arms, and let Paige do her thing.
I know it’s silly, but sometimes my anxiety gets the better of me in crowded places.
And Fan Gear is definitely crowded. I pull out my phone and check my messages while I wait and try to avoid being trampled for a discount sweater.
I smile when I spot one from Bryce.
Bryce: What are you up to?
Me: I’m at a sports store with my friend. I’m standing back while she dukes it out with some old guy over t-shirts or something.
Bryce: LOL Sports stores can be crazy. I didn’t know you were into sports?
Me: I’m not. But my bestie is. She’s convinced she’ll convert me one day.
Bryce: You don’t seem convinced?
Me: I don’t know the first thing about sports. So it’s not likely. What about you? Do you like sports?
Bryce: I mean, I’m a guy who lives in Colorado, so… I think it’s pretty much required by law.
I laugh and glance up to see Paige arguing with a woman over some sort of foam contraption.
Me: What’s your favorite? Paige seems to go back and forth depending on the time of year.
Bryce: I like them all, too, but I’d say hockey’s probably my favorite.
Me: Gotta go. She’s coming with loads of stuff.
Bryce: Have fun!
I slip my phone back into my bag just as Paige reaches me.
“I think we should try these on,” Paige says, handing me another large stack of items.
“How many shirts do we need?” I ask, my arms weighed down with her finds.
“A few.” She shrugs. “There are five games. You could get two or three things and swap them out, but I think I’m going to try to get something for every game.” She grins and points to the back of the store where there’s a line for the dressing rooms. “Let’s go get in line.”
I follow behind her looking at the price tags on the items she put in my arms. “One hundred and fifty dollars for a shirt?” I ask, stunned. “Paige, this has to be a typo.”
The man in line behind me laughs, and I feel my face flush with embarrassment.
“It’s a sweater,” Paige says, “like a jersey the players wear. And it doesn’t have a name or number on it. Those are a hundred dollars more. Several hundred more if they’re game-worn.”
Uh huh, that explains… well, nothing.
“Don’t worry, I plan to buy it for you. Your first hockey sweater.” Paige grins. “We’ll need to frame it.”
I shake my head at her antics. “You act like this is my first day of school or something.”
Paige grins. “Nope, this is even more important. A girl never forgets her first professional hockey game.”
Just then, the dressing room opens up and Paige slips inside. “Don’t forget to pick out a few things,” she calls over the door. “That way you have a variety.”
A variety. Of clothes I’ll never wear again. “You bet.” I say, moving into the dressing room beside hers.
Several minutes later, we’re done trying things on and are lined up at the register.
Paige insisted on buying the “sweater,” and I chose one long-sleeved shirt and one short-sleeved shirt.
All blue, to represent the Stars, Colt’s team.
I figure that’s plenty. I do have a washer and dryer.
Paige however, has enough clothing to change outfits several times each game.
“You sure you want all of that?” I ask as she puts her haul onto the counter for the cashier.
“Yep!” She pulls out her wallet and slides her card out to pay. “I couldn’t resist. Too many cute designs.”
I nod like hockey shirts with stars, stripes, and pucks on them are normal everyday wear. Though I guess they could be for Paige. Being a fitness instructor gives her a little more flexibility than the business casual dress code the library requires.
Paige steps to the side once she finishes so I can check out with my two shirts I insisted I’d pay for myself. “So, where do you want to go for dinner?”
I swipe my card and wait for the transaction to go through before taking my bag and receipt from the young woman working the register. “I don’t really care,” I answer finally. “Somewhere not crowded, preferably.”
Paige grins and leads the way back out to the sidewalk. “How about the sandwich shop?” She points across the parking lot to a sub shop that doesn’t look too crowded.
“Sure.”
We stow our purchases in Paige’s trunk and walk over to the sub shop. When we enter, the smell of freshly baked bread makes my mouth water.
I’m about to order my usual—turkey club with mayo and extra lettuce—when my phone dings in my purse. “Hey, can you order for me? I’ll go find us a table.”
Paige looks at me curiously. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yep!” I say, a bit too brightly, even to my own ears. “I just want to get off my feet.”
She eyes me for a minute, but then nods. “Go,” she says. “I’ll order.”
“Thanks.” I spot a table in the corner away from the bathrooms, and make my way through the restaurant to sit down. I pull out my phone and check the notification. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
“So,” Paige says, sitting down at the empty chair. “Who’s the guy?”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “What?” I ask, trying to buy some time to figure out how to answer her.
“You were grinning at your phone in Fan Gear, and now you’re rushing off to the table to grin at your phone some more…
So, the logical conclusion is it’s a guy.
Besides, the only other time I’ve ever seen you smile like that was when Jeremy Delainey texted you shortly after we met.
You usually avoid your phone like the plague. ”
Ugh, Jeremy… “Don’t remind me,” I groan. He’s a relationship I’d like to forget. Ambitious, smart, and totally not relationship material. He’s too married to his potential political career. I’d have been my husband’s mistress if that had worked out.
“So…” Paige prompts again.
“Number twenty-nine,” a staff member calls. Saved by the sub!
“I’ll grab it,” I say, already walking away.
“Okay, but don’t think I’ll forget in the thirty seconds it takes for you to get our food,” Paige calls after me.
If only. I don’t know why I haven’t told her about Bryce yet. It felt silly in the beginning because he was just a guy I met at a bookstore. But the last few days, we’ve texted each other almost nonstop. And what’s strange is that I find him very easy to talk to.
I hand Paige her sandwich and sit back down, taking my time unwrapping mine.
“Well?” Paige asks, taking a bite of her Italian sub.
“He’s just a guy I met at the bookstore.” I take a big bite and chew slowly.
“Oh, nerdy! Perfect!” Paige is grinning from ear to ear.
“Nerdy? I never said he was nerdy,” I reply, remembering just how NOT nerdy Bryce is.
“Oh, so he’s hot and nerdy?” Paige says, her eyebrows raised so high they almost disappear behind her bangs. “Does he have a friend?”
I finish chewing my bite and set my sandwich down. “He’s in town for business,” I say. “So, clearly, nothing will come of it.”
Paige eyes me for a minute. “But you want it to.” It’s not a question. Paige is my best friend. She knows me as well as I know myself.
“Yeah. I kind of do,” I say, sinking back in my chair. “We haven’t even talked on the phone or met up in person since we exchanged numbers. That’s crazy, right?”
Paige takes a bite of her sandwich. “So, you’ve been texting each other?” she asks.
I nod. “Every day since we met. It’s…” I struggle to find the right words. “Easy,” I say, finally. “You know I’m not good with awkward conversations?”
Paige nods.
“We’ve talked every day about family, friends, likes, dislikes… it’s almost like I’ve known him for years instead of a few days.”
Paige’s face lights up. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.”
I shake my head. “I do not.” No way. He’s going to go back home, and the texts will stop. Why does that make my chest ache? Oh, no. “Yeah, I guess I do. Or, I could.”
Paige nods at my phone laying face down on the table. “So invite him out for coffee or lunch. Something near work where you have an escape if the in person version isn’t as great as the text version.”
“He already asked me for coffee, but we’re having a hard time aligning schedules. His schedule seems chaotic.”
“What does he do?” Paige asks.
“I don’t know. We don’t really talk about work much. It just doesn’t come up.”
“Interesting,” Paige says. “But aren’t you at least a little curious about what he does for a living?”
I think about it for a minute. “I mean, sure, but does it really matter? He’ll be headed back to Colorado soon, and that will be that.”
My phone chooses that precise moment to chime with an incoming text. My palm itches to reach for the phone and check it. I’ve never had this reaction to talking to someone before. It’s weird.
“Go ahead,” Paige says, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Check it. You know you want to.”
“Fine,” I say, snagging the phone and opening the message.
Bryce: Would you be free for that coffee date Thursday morning?
I glance up at Paige who’s leaned forward trying to read the message. “He asked me for coffee on Thursday.”
“Say yes,” Paige says immediately. “You can meet at the Coffee Loft near the library. I’m sure you can get away for an hour.”
I mentally go over my schedule for the week in my head. I could move some things around and make that work.
Me: Sure. How about nine o’clock at the Coffee Loft near the Capitol City Public Library?
Bryce: Sounds perfect. I’m putting in my calendar now. Gotta run, but I’ll text later, okay?
Paige claps her hands together. “What are you going to wear?”
“I have no idea,” I tell her. “I guess we need to go raid my closet.”
I may not know what I’m going to wear, but one thing’s for certain… I also have no idea what I’m doing. Does that mean I’m going to put the brakes on whatever this is? No, no it doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.
I just have to remember this is temporary.
That’s all it can be.