Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Luka
“Thanks for meeting me,” I tell White as he slides into the seat opposite. I texted him after my race with Reid this morning, and he suggested we meet at a cafe near his place in town.
“No problem, rook. So, how is the condo hunt going?”
“It’s not. I looked at a few places last week, but nothing feels like home.”
“What does home feel like?”
I shrug. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”
The waitress comes over and takes our order, and I hand over my card before White can get his wallet out.
“It’ll take more than a coffee to get me over to your side of whatever battle it is you have going on with our captain, kid,” he says, and I laugh.
“I didn’t bring you here to bribe you.”
“Is this a date, then?” he asks, leaning forward and pumping his brows suggestively.
“What? No. Did my text make you think this was a date?” I ask, my heart racing as I pull out my phone to check the message, but before I even unlock the screen, he’s laughing.
“Relax, kid. You’re not my type. So, what can I help you with?
” he asks, as the waitress brings over my coffee, his hot chocolate, and a croissant.
He rips off the end and dips it into the steaming hot liquid, then pops it into his mouth, the chocolate dripping down his fingers for a second before he licks them clean. “Go on, then.”
“You’ve known Reid for like, forever, right? So you know what he likes,” I say, and he pauses, a smirk teasing at the corner of his lips.
“Not like that,” I say, shaking my head, but I’d be lying if I said the thought of Reid’s big strong arms hadn’t crept into my mind on more than one occasion.
“You want to know how to impress Reid on the ice?” White asks.
“Exactly. So what do I do?”
“Everything he says,” White states matter-of-factly before finishing off the croissant and waving over the waitress to order more.
“So, just obey him? That’s the only way?”
“Pretty much,” he replies, and I sigh and slouch back in the chair.
“Then I’m screwed.”
“Is it so hard to do as you’re told?”
“No . . . and yes. You have to admit, my trick plays are awesome.”
“They’re alright,” he says, and I reach over and grab one of the two croissants the waitress just set beside his mug.
“They’re better than alright, and you know it.”
“I know that as long as you keep fighting against him, none of us will have peace in that locker room.”
“You can’t put all that on me. He’s the captain, he’s the one who’s supposed to encourage us, make us better.”
“What makes you think that isn’t exactly what he’s doing?”
“He’s just so . . . urgh.”
“Pretty sure he feels the same way, kid.”
“I guess I should give his party a miss tonight, then.”
“Why?”
“I doubt he’ll want to see me there. It’s for friends and family, and I don’t fit into either category.”
“And you think you’ll be able to change that by not going?”
“I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“Ha! I call bullshit,” White laughs. “Kid, you’re nothing but trouble.”
“Mean.”
“Maybe, but it’s the truth. Anyway, the coach is treating his party as one of his team-building events, so you have to go.”
“Great. I guess I should get him a gift then too. What do you get a stubborn, wound-too-tight guy like Reid anyway?”
“Beats me, kid. He and I have a tradition for birthdays, so I’m all set.”
“What are you giving him, then?”
“Five hundred rolls of his favorite stick tape. It’s on an auto-rebuy and should be delivered to his house today actually.”
“That’s really smart.”
He taps the side of his head with his pointer finger.
“I’m not just a pretty face, kid.”
“Or even,” I reply, and he fakes offense then laughs it off.
This is nice, hanging out with White like this.
I haven’t really done anything with the guys outside of training and games, other than Coach’s team-building things.
I guess I probably should. I was super close with my team in college, but I also shared more than half my classes with those guys and lived in the same frat house as a bunch of them too.
I guess it can’t hurt to go tonight, though.
At the very least, I’ll get to try King’s Pizza.
The soft speakers overhead start playing one of my favorite mashups, and an idea hits me.
I can make Reid a playlist for his birthday.
It can be his Post-Hart-Puck-up Playlist.
“What has you smiling like that?” White asks, and I shake my head.
“Nothing. I think I just figured out what to get the cap for his birthday.”
“Promise me you’re not reconsidering the glitter bomb idea?”
“That was your idea, not mine.”
“Still, we both agree, it was a bad idea, right?”
“Yes. Sending my captain a glitter bomb for his birthday is a bad idea.”
“Good. Just checking,” White replies in all seriousness. Why he thinks I’d ever do something like that is beyond me. But I guess he doesn’t really know me that well. None of the guys do. That changes tonight.
I leave White and head to the shopping complex.
On the walk there, I make a start on the playlist. The first song I add is “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor, and then I add in a few songs that I think will make him smile, or possibly roll his eyes, like “Don’t Stop Believin’”—the Glee version, of course.
And then I add in my hardcore, get the blood pumping, all-time favorites like “Treasure” by Bruno Mars, and “Power” by Little Mix.
By the time I’ve searched through a dozen stores for something physical I can give him, to attach the printed out QR code for the playlist to, I’ve included fifty songs, adding up to over two hours of listening.
I’m about to give up and just print it on paper to slip into a card when I spot the key-cutting place.
It has four stands with rotating columns of keychains in every shape you can think of.
I quickly scan down one with footballs and tennis rackets at the top until I spot a blue and red hockey-skate-shaped keychain.
The colors don’t exactly match the Foxes, but they’re close enough.
“You can have any of those laser-engraved with your name and address if you like,” the guy behind the counter says as I slip the skate free from the stand. Why would you put your address on your keychain? That’s like inviting whoever found your keys to come and rob you.
“Can the laser engrave a QR code?” I ask.
“Sure can.”
“Great. I’ll take this one.”
I screenshot the QR code and send it to the guy’s shop mobile. He uploads it into his engraving program, and when it’s finished, he rubs something black over the back of the keyring and it settles into the grooves, making the code stand out perfectly against the shiny metal.
“Do you need anything else?” he asks as he passes it over for me to test out. The code loads first go.
“A small box if you have one.”
He rummages below the counter for a minute, then pulls out three small boxes. One’s covered in red roses, another’s a shiny black, but the third is like Goldilocks, just right, because it’s covered in yellow sunflowers.
He passes me a small square gift card and a pen.
“Thanks,” I reply, tapping my bank card to pay the perfectly reasonable twenty-dollar price tag.
I take a moment to think about what to write, then add, “Since we’re clearly not great at agreeing on anything, here’s a playlist for the next time I inevitably piss you off, so you’ll at least have something good to listen to.
” And then I sign the card the same way I signed off on the flowers, with a simple L.
Okay, now what do I wear.