Chapter 10
Lucky
Half the team rolls into Mario’s like we’ve just clinched the Cup.
It wasn’t a playoff game, just a solid Friday night win, but Mario’s is our go-to for postgame highs.
The place is packed, loud and humming with Titans fans three drinks deep.
I slip past the line at the door and straight into the roped-off VIP section near the back, greeted by cheers and high fives.
After a game like that, especially with an assist on the board and the crowd chanting my name, this intense energy feels earned.
I see Foster, Penn and Atlas at one of the standing high-tops with a beer already in front of them.
Mazzy and Mila hover nearby, heads bent toward each other.
I make my way to them, passing Kace chatting up some girl at the bar who looks like she bites men for fun.
He’s either in trouble or in love, but regardless, he’s done well stepping into goal since Drake’s groin injury.
Apparently, the doctors are saying he’s going to need six to eight weeks before he can return.
That takes us all the way through the rest of the regular season and into the first week of the playoffs.
Assuming we make the playoffs.
While Kace was poised and fluid in goal tonight, it’s only his first full game. He has a big burden to ensure we make the playoffs and an even bigger burden to ensure we keep our current ranking. Earning the top slot in our division is crucial.
I step in next to Atlas while he’s telling some story that involves a bachelor party and a lost shoe. I’m well known here and a waitress slides my favorite beer on tap in front of me.
Atlas acknowledges me with a nod, as do the other guys, and I half listen while sipping at my brew. Unfortunately, my focus is split.
I’m not sure why this is on my mind, but under a different set of circumstances, Winnie could have been standing here at my side.
I’m not sure exactly what it would have been.
Definitely not a date, and definitely not a social experiment.
Maybe a friendly outing? I know by inviting her to a team gathering, I stepped outside her dating experiment boundaries.
Regardless, she’s not here and I’m bummed about it. Something during the game hit different. I think it was knowing that she was up in the stands, at my invitation.
Watching me.
I felt like I had an extra kick in my step, and while I’d like to think I give a hundred and ten percent every time I’m on the ice, tonight a weird fire burned inside me that hasn’t necessarily been present in prior games. Winnie being there was the only difference in my usual hockey life.
I know she wants a normal, regular guy, and she’s right—I’m anything but.
But fuck if a part of me tonight didn’t relish being a big deal out there on the ice because I wanted to impress her.
I wanted to break through this aura of standoffishness that she projects because she thinks we’re too different.
I try not to let it mess with my head, but every time I replay it—her in the stands, jumping up and down with her friend, beaming at the ice like it was Christmas morning and I was Santa on skates—my chest does something odd.
It’s tight. Warm. Yearning.
What has me feeling like I won a victory—in addition to the game tonight—was that she showed up and didn’t have to. She could’ve gone out with some dude who probably has a drawer full of calculator-themed boxer briefs.
But she came. She watched. And maybe I imagined it, but I swear I could feel her pride when our eyes briefly caught after my assist.
“You good?” Atlas asks, nudging me with his elbow hard enough to jostle the glass held loosely in my hand.
I blink, startled like someone snapped me out of a dream, and realize the conversation’s moved on from bachelor party destinations to… well, me. Atlas eyes me with one eyebrow raised accompanied by an infuriating smirk that says, Yeah, dipshit. You’ve been out in space.
“What?” I ask, trying to act like I haven’t been thinking about Winnie smiling at me from the stands.
“I asked if you’re good.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. The bar is a little too warm and crowded.
The scent of fries and beer clings to the air, and somewhere, someone’s drunkenly singing along to a nineties alt-rock song that’s too loud through the speakers.
For some reason, those things are annoying me when they never have before.
“Yeah,” I say gruffly. “Just thinking.”
“About TikTok Teacher?”
I chuckle, because… yeah. That’s exactly who I was thinking about. I pick up my beer and run a finger through the condensation on the glass. “She has a name,” I point out.
“Winnie,” he says, snapping his fingers like he’s scored a trivia point. He leans in, resting his arms on the table, his expression shrewd. “You into her?”
I give a nonchalant shrug, but the movement feels stiff even to me. “Nah, man. Just having a good time.”
“Bullshit,” Mazzy says, suddenly appearing at the table like a truth-seeking missile.
She slides into our group next to Foster with the kind of confidence only Mazzy can pull off.
Mila follows behind, eyes already locked on mine with amused interest. Penn’s arm curls possessively around her and for a man who was a complete antisocial outcast just a few months ago, I can’t help but marvel at the change in him since reconnecting with her.
I glance around and realize all eyes are now on me. Terrific.
Mazzy tilts her head. “You’re totally into her and why shouldn’t you be? She’s funny. Smart. And I love that she has a rabbit that judges people.”
Great. She watches Winnie’s TikTok channel and has some insight into the woman. I’m guessing that’s going to lead to pointed advice.
Atlas blinks and shifts in his seat. “A rabbit?”
Mazzy nods enthusiastically, lifting her beer. “You should follow her on TikTok. She’s freaking hilarious and very genuine. She doesn’t sugarcoat things.”
“She’s got a whole series where the rabbit silently shames her while she unpacks her failed dating life,” Mila adds with a grin.
Mazzy turns to me again, serious. “And quit trying to downplay it. I saw the TikTok you recorded with her after your first date. This has more than a good time written all over it.”
“You guys are perfection,” Mila says, leaning across the table with her chin in her hand. “Like a romantic comedy filmed entirely in front of a green screen.”
Jesus… it’s a tennis match with these two women volleying opinions and advice.
“More important,” Mazzy adds, scooting closer to Foster and pointing a french fry at me, “you need to lock it down before someone else swoops in and steals her.”
That comment tightens my stomach. Because she’s right. Winnie’s experiment isn’t exclusive and I’ve known from the beginning that other guys are part of this thing she’s doing. Still, it’s different hearing it out loud.
“Wait a minute,” Atlas says, his forehead wrinkling as the puzzle pieces click. “She’s dating other guys too?”
“It’s an experiment,” I explain, resting my forearms on the table. “She’s had bad dates and she wants to find a decent guy, so she laid out a challenge. She’s looking for nice and normal.”
Foster laughs so hard he nearly snorts his beer. “You are not normal.”
He’s not wrong. I lift one shoulder. “She wants an average guy and she thinks that a professional athlete is a little above average. I can’t believe that’s being used against me.”
“He sounds bitter,” Mazzy says to Mila with a smirk. “Which totally means he’s into her.”
Mila raises her brows at me like she’s reading my soul. “How do you feel about her dating other men?” she asks, voice soft but curious.
Atlas adds, “You scared of a little competition?”
“No,” I say honestly, shaking my head. “Not afraid, but admittedly, I’ve never had to compete for a woman before.”
“Dude,” Penn teases with a chuckle. “You might actually have to work for this.”
“I have every confidence in the world in Lucky,” Mila says. “Besides… he does have luck on his side.”
“She came to the game tonight. I invited her to Mario’s, but she declined,” I admit, hoping that didn’t sound pathetic. Because truly… it doesn’t bother me.
Much.
“When are you going out again?” Mila asks.
“Not sure,” I reply, grabbing a fry from the center basket.
“What are you waiting for?” She frowns. I seem to be getting that a lot tonight. “You know she’s dating other guys. You better get on that.”
Fuck… she’s right. Winnie canceled something tonight to come to the game and the weekend is here. I’m heading to Dallas tomorrow afternoon and she’ll be free to conduct her experiment while I can only hope to watch from TikTok.
“Getting on it,” I mutter as I dig into my back pocket for my phone. The screen glows as I type out a quick message: I’m craving pancakes. Any interest in grabbing some with me in the morning?
My thumb hovers a beat, then I hit send.
“What was the pitch?” Penn asks.
“Breakfast tomorrow,” I say, setting the phone face down. “It’s really the only time I’ve got before we fly out.”
Atlas nods, tapping his knuckles on the table. “Solid move.”
“If that date goes well, you better bring her around soon,” Mazzy says, eyebrow hiked in warning. “The girls will want to adopt her.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Foster grumbles, sipping from his glass.
“It is,” Mila replies, elbowing him with a playful glare. “Welcoming committee has snacks and wine.”
“Don’t forget matching pajamas,” Mazzy adds with mock seriousness. “It’s practically a requirement.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. I didn’t expect this—any of it. Not the reaction from my friends. Not the way Winnie has gotten into my head. Not the scary possibility that maybe this isn’t just an experiment for her.
They keep talking, the banter rolling, and I sip at my beer, letting the friendship wash over me. This team—it’s everything I never knew I needed. It’s never been like this on other teams and I’m guessing it’s my biggest stroke of luck yet.
But that girl? That sharp, funny, beautiful woman with the hypercritical rabbit and the overthinking heart?
She might be something more.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I know it’s her before I even glance down. What time?
My mouth kicks up into a grin. Tomorrow just got better.