Chapter 39
Josie
I spent most of the next day focusing on all the TikTok tasks I’d avoided the day before. That kept me busy until it was time to go to the hockey game that evening, although I kept daydreaming about my hockey player boyfriend and all the naughty things we were going to do to each other.
I knew he wasn’t really my boyfriend. Up until two days ago, we couldn’t even admit that we didn’t hate each other.
But things felt different now, and I was allowing myself to imagine a future where we were together to some degree.
Not the distant future. I wasn’t making plans to have his babies or anything.
But as soon as the NHL season ended, he would have an entire summer without hockey taking up his time.
And I was already planning all the ways I was going to fill that time. Most of which involved a bed.
Or a couch.
Or even a floor, if we couldn’t make it to a piece of furniture in time.
I ordered a beer at the game and took my seat behind the Surge bench while the teams warmed up.
It was a flurry of activity on the ice, but my eyes were permanently locked onto Grayson Steele.
He was the obvious leader out there, shouting encouragement to his teammates and occasionally pausing to say something private to one of them.
He skated around with an air of confidence, like a general who was surveying the troops before a battle.
It was crazy how much had changed since our first date. All the things I disliked about him at first—his arrogance, his dismissive attitude, and his inflated self-worth—now turned me on.
Before the game started, I fired off a text to Sharon.
Me: Hey, thanks for signing me up for the contest. It’s turning out to be the best thing to ever happen to me.
Sharon: YES. It’s about time you acknowledged how brilliant my decision was. Did you two bone again last night?
Me: Not last night. There were too many people around.
Sharon: Boo
Me: …but we did hook up after brunch yesterday. I’m actually sore from it.
Sharon: YAY
Sharon: I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get home. And you’d better not spare any details.
Me: Wouldn’t dream of it :-)
The lights dimmed for the player introductions.
The Edmonton crowd was quieter tonight, subdued by the loss in the first game.
The other Surge fans and I took the opportunity to cheer as loudly as possible when our players were introduced.
I smiled broadly when Grayson’s name was called and he skated out onto the ice.
But my smile didn’t last long.
The Oilers scored in the first two minutes of the game. That was like a shot of adrenaline for the crowd, energizing them in a way they hadn’t been since the beginning of the first game.
It only got worse from there.
The Surge gave up two more goals in the first period. They played sloppy, losing the puck on easy passes and practically tripping over their own skates. It wasn’t any individual player’s fault; the entire team looked rusty out there.
But Grayson had plenty of his own mistakes.
Two of the Oilers goals happened after he’d lost the puck, and he was slow to get back on defense.
He got into a fight with one of the opponents, the two of them ripping off their gloves and circling each other like lions, before the Oilers player grabbed a handful of Grayson’s shirt and used the leverage to land a few punches to the jaw.
When the fight ended, the screen above the arena showed a cartoon of a big steel wall covered in rivets—and then a bunch of cartoon Oilers players fired a barrage of pucks at it until it looked like Swiss cheese.
The crowd roared at that, but I was busy watching Grayson as he skated back to the bench. A few teammates patted him on the shoulder, but he calmly snapped his hockey stick over one knee and then slammed the two pieces to the ground.
“Let’s go Surge!” I shouted, trying to give them some encouragement.
Grayson twisted to look over his shoulder at me. His eyes were full of green fire, a rage I hadn’t seen since our first date. But then they softened, and he gave me a tiny little smile before returning his attention to the game.
At least he wasn’t mad at me.
The Oilers ended up winning by six goals, bringing the series to a tie. The mood back at the hotel was grim while all the team employees packed up their luggage and equipment and placed it by the door. The team was taking their private jet home tonight, but my flight wasn’t until tomorrow morning.
A few players I recognized from the other night were drinking beers at the bar while waiting for the bus to leave. “Hey, shake it off you guys,” I said to them. “It’s just one game, and the next two are at the Frost Bank Center, where us fans will have your back!”
They glanced at me, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t blame them for not being as friendly after a loss, but it still stung a little.
I ordered a beer at the bar. The post-game coverage was on the TV above the bar, and I ignored it while waiting for Grayson to get back.
Until his face appeared on the screen. He was giving an interview to the room of reporters.
“They had our number tonight,” he was saying. His hair was damp from the shower, and he wore a permanent scowl. “We had theirs in the first game. That’s just how it goes sometimes. All we can do is review the game tape, shake off this loss, and come back strong in game three.”
He looked like he was in a terrible mood, so I finished my beer and shot him a text.
Me: Sorry about the loss. I saw your interview on TV. I hope I wasn’t a distraction.
Grayson: Not your fault, Josie. We just played like shit. Everyone was off tonight.
Me: I’m gonna stay up for a while, so text me if you want to say goodbye before jumping on your flight.
Grayson: Not heading back to the hotel. The team bus is taking some of us straight to the airport. That’s the problem with being the team captain: I have to stay after games and talk to reporters.
Grayson: I’m sorry you had to witness such a bad loss, but I’m glad you were there.
Me: Hey, I don’t mind watching a loss. I don’t even like hockey, remember?
Grayson: Haha.
Grayson: Have a safe flight tomorrow. Text me when you’re home safe. I know you said you’re working the Spurs game tomorrow night, but maybe you can come over after.
Me: I was hoping you would say that. I can make you forget all about this loss.
Grayson: I was hoping YOU would say that :-)
I ran into Bob Trent by the elevators on the way up to my room. He looked exhausted and stressed out.
“Thanks for cooperating on the last few events,” he told me. “I’ll send you a formal debriefing, but you’ve officially fulfilled the requirements in your contract. You’re finally free.”
“Finally,” I said, though I didn’t mean it.
“I bet you’re happy to never have to see Grayson Steele again.”
I shrugged. “I still have to see him every time I work a game at the Frost Bank Center. But he’s not as bad as I thought.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to bully him into going to publicity events once a month.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Best of luck with your TikTok channel, Ms. Harper.”
“Good luck with the rest of the playoffs,” I replied.
The hotel was eerily empty when I left for the airport the next morning, like the team had never even been there. It filled me with a strange sense of sadness. I knew my mood would improve once I was home. Getting back into my routine would help.
Plus seeing Grayson a lot more frequently, without the need to sneak around a busy hotel.
Most of the fans that had traveled for the game were on my flight, judging by all the people wearing Surge jerseys at our gate. I couldn’t imagine being that devoted to a team, to travel to another country for a playoff game. Especially since the team was only a year old.
But I was beginning to understand the appeal of the sport I used to hate.
It was a lot more physical than I previously thought, the players constantly battling it out with shoves, slams, and punches.
The sport was also more complicated than I assumed; so much strategy went into it beyond just shooting the puck at the goal.
I still hated working in the freezing-cold arena, though.
I was sitting in First Class again for the return flight. As soon as we were in the air, I ordered a mimosa. It reminded me of having brunch with Grayson, and filled me with a giggly sense of joy.
The man sitting next to me kept looking at me. At first, I thought he was judging me for drinking alcohol this early in the morning.
Eventually, he said, “I’m sorry, but you look familiar.”
“I get that a lot,” I lied. “I’m nobody famous.”
He shook his head. “You’re that woman from the news. The hockey player’s girlfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I answered. “We’re not together. I won a contest to go on a date with him, that’s all.”
“Oh. That’s not what I saw on the internet this morning.” He went back to reading his book.
I wondered what he had seen. The Surge had posted everything about our dates in Edmonton on their social media page, so the news must have picked up the story. Hopefully that meant I would get another big bump in views on my TikTok channel. I couldn’t wait to check my dashboard when I landed.
It was so nice to look forward to reviewing my metrics, rather than dreading the pitiful numbers!
I indulged myself on another mimosa during the flight while brainstorming ideas for new videos. We landed in San Antonio around noon. It was a sunny, cloudless day, which reflected my happy mood.
Until I took my phone off airplane mode.
I had two dozen texts, three voicemails, and hundreds of social media notifications. I stared at the screen, not sure what to check first.
The guy next to me tapped my arm and showed me his phone screen. “This is what I was talking about. That’s you, right?”
I stared at the screen. It took a few seconds for my brain to process what I was seeing.
“It is you,” he said. “You’re the woman getting blamed for last night’s loss.”