22. Reese
I don’t know why I put a leash on Eeyore every time we come outside. It’s not like he can escape me.
“Is that a turtle?” A feminine laugh fills my ears from behind me, but I don’t look back.
“I’m not interested.” My voice is flat, but she decides to jog up to my side anyway.
“In what?” Her head tilts in fake innocence, and my insides turn.
“Whatever you’re offering, I’m not interested.”
She huffs and yet still doesn’t go away. I knew puppies were chick magnets—babies too—but who knew a tortoise would be as well. It’s fucking annoying. A guy can’t even take his tortoise for a walk in peace.
“Look, I’m flattered, but I can’t make it any more clear how uninterested I am in whatever you’re offering.”
Anger pinches her face. “You got a girlfriend or something?”
“Or something,” I grumble. Something like the love of my life avoiding me for three fucking weeks. I’m not any closer to figuring out what happened, but I’ll think of it. In the meantime, I’ve been following her around campus when I don’t have class or hockey. I’m totally stalking her, even going as far as hiding in a bush when she looked my way. That was only once, but it doesn’t make it any less pathetic.
“Well, whatever the deal is. Get my number, and I can help you forget.”
Ha. If only it were that easy. Jennifer Aniston could proposition me and I still wouldn’t forget about Winnie Lewis. She’s a part of my entire heart, mind, and soul.
The girl holds out her hand with a fucking business card pinched between two long nails decked out in jewels. I stare at it, hoping I look as bored as I feel.
After an entire minute of me just staring at her, she scoffs and storms away. Thank fuck.
I lift Eeyore and tuck him into my side, feeding him the last of the lettuce I brought. We’ve been walking for a while. Despite Winnie pretending I don’t exist, she still got me the information she promised on tortoises. And you know how she sent me the nine pages of information? My fucking school email. Addressed to my whole-ass government name and signed by hers. As if I wasn’t balls deep inside of her just a few weeks ago.
With a heavy sigh, I lift the turtle to eye level. “Your mom is being a real pain in my ass.”
He opens his mouth and snaps it shut. I roll my eyes and shove him back into my side. Even the fucking turtle is on her side.
“Larson,” Coach booms from the side of the rink. “My office, now.”
What the fuck is it this time? I know I haven’t been on the EU Student News. I haven’t even left my house more than necessary, so that’s not it. Unless, of course, someone caught me stalking.
Fucking hell.
“Sit down, son.”
At least he doesn’t sound as angry as the last time I was in here, but his bushy gray eyebrows are pushed together behind his glasses.
“Something wrong, Coach?”
“Who’s the girl, Reese?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t offend me. I know puppy love when I see it, and you’ve been bitten hard by your puppy. So… who is she? The girl from the photo?”
I guess you gotta give the old man props for knowing his players as well as he does, but I was just starting to get Winnie out of my head. That’s a bald-faced lie, but a single second went by during warm-ups when I didn’t think about her.
“Yeah, it’s the same girl.”
He leans back and crosses his hands over his round stomach. “Well, go on. Tell me what happened.”
“You want me to tell you about my relationship struggles?”
“If that’s what will pull your head from your ass, sure. Now spill it, Larson. We haven’t got all day. You might be having relationship struggles, but my wife of thirty-nine years is making her infamous chili, so I’d like to be home as soon as I can.”
See, that’s the issue because that’s what I want. I want thirty-nine years with someone. No, not someone—I want Winnie. It fucking blows she won’t even give me five minutes. Deciding there is nothing I can lose from telling Coach—besides a bit of my dignity—I spill everything. From the very start to the last time I spoke to her outside her car. He listens intently the entire time, doesn’t interrupt, and waits until I finish to say anything.
“Boys these days are idiots.” He huffs. “You’ve known this girl for how long?”
“Since I was eight, Sir.”
“Then what the hell are you doing? You know well enough to know what she really wants. Yes?”
“I thought so, but every time I think I’m on the right path, it’s a dead end.”
He leans forward and lets out a long breath. “Because you’re going about it all wrong. This girl sounds like the sentimental type. She liked that you carry a photo of her around. So you need to do something sentimental. Your gifts sound decent, personal, but they aren’t sentimental. Reach into your past and figure it out.”
Easier said than done, old man. If I knew what to do to get Winnie to speak with me, I would have done it weeks ago.
But maybe it’s not a gift she wants at all.
What does Winnie love more than almost anything? Easy, photography. But what can I do with that? I could get her a new camera, but I don’t know shit about cameras and would probably end up buying the wrong one. Maybe I can sneak into her place, steal her film, and get it developed. But the odds of me getting in and out without getting caught by someone probably aren’t high.
What the fuck can I give her that deals with photography?
I don’t know how long I sit there, but Coach gives me the time to think without saying anything. Looking around his office, I take in the several team photos, and something dawns on me. I don’t know if it’s possible or even a good idea. But it’s worth a shot.
“Sir.” I lean forward and lick my dry lips. “What would you think about hiring a team photographer?”
“Explain what you mean.”
“I mean hiring someone—Winnie, specifically—to take photos for the team. I don’t know what we will do with the photos, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll even be the one to pay her, but it can’t come from me.”
He steeples his fingers, deep in thought over my proposition. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“So, is that a yes?”
His face gives nothing away, and the pause he’s making me suffer through is frustrating beyond belief. “This would be a trial. If she gets in the way or becomes too big of a distraction, she’s out. I can’t have my guys acting a fool because there’s pussy around.”
Not a fan of the way he’s referring to my girl as pussy, but he’s an old-time bastard, so I let it slide.
“She won’t. My high school coach used to always say I played my best when I had someone to impress. There’s no one I want to impress more than her.”
“I will need to speak with Kinnon and the board, because if she’s going to be a part of the team, she will need a badge to tag along for games. But when I have an answer, I’ll get ahold of you.”
Fuck yes. “She’s really good, Sir. I bet she could grow our social media shit with the right help just by making us look good.”
He snorts an ugly sound. “Ain’t no one making you boys look good. But I will pass along the word about social media. Mr. Kinnon was just telling Coach Miller and me that we need more press. Basketball is getting a lot of traction from bringing in some infamous player, and our numbers are down.” He waves me away, lost in thought now. “Go. You’ll be hearin’ from me.”
Sweet. I have a good feeling about this. Winnie can say no to me all day long, but she loves photography too much to ever say no to an opportunity like this. I hope.