3. Jack
JACK
SHE’S KIND OF A BUZZKILL
I open my eyes and immediately shut them again because the room is spinning. If I hold my head perfectly still and blink slowly, it settles. Nothing sloshes. I might be able to sit up.
I make it to an upright position and turn my head. There’s a girl sitting in the chair across from the couch holding a mug and flipping through a magazine. I must groan out loud, because she glances over.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
“Backcheck Girl?”
“No, I’m Britt,” she says. “You must mean my roommate.”
“The blonde?”
“Yeah, that’s Chloe. Why’d she let you in last night?”
“I fell.”
“You… fell. In the hallway?”
“No, in the door. She opened the door. Where is she?”
“The library probably. The girl does not stop studying. She also warned me that if—hold on.” She reaches for her phone and glances at the screen. “‘If you offer to show me your Stanley Cup, you’re actually trying to proposition me, and to tell you no.’”
“Chloe seems like kind of a cockblock.”
Britt sets her magazine down. “I don’t know. I’d actually love to see your Stanley Cup.”
My mouth works before my brain does. “Nah, I’m good.”
She raises her eyebrows like she can’t believe I’ve just turned her down. I can’t believe it myself. I don’t say no to women. It’s kind of my whole thing, except now it’s suddenly not.
“She knew the neutral zone,” I say. “Off the top of her head. How does she know hockey?”
Britt shrugs without looking up. “I don’t know. Her brother played, or something. She watches every game, yells at the refs like they can hear her. It’s the only thing she does that isn’t studying.” She turns a page. “Why?”
“No reason.”
She scoffs. She definitely doesn’t buy it.
“She’s not gonna go for you. Which I’m guessing isn’t a sentence you hear much.”
“It’s not.”
“She thinks hockey players are a personality type.” Britt looks me up and down, taking in yesterday’s clothes and the floor I’m still half on. “Right now you’re kind of proving it.”
“I fell.”
“Sure.”
I dig my other shoe out from under the coffee table and jam my foot in. A blanket I didn’t realize was covering me slides to the floor. It takes me a second to work out that Chloe must have put it there. I catch myself smiling. Seems like she might make me work for it, but she still covered me up.
“Tell Chloe thanks for the blanket,” I say.
“No.”
I let myself out and glance at the number on the door as it closes behind me. Two-oh-four. One floor under mine. She’s been down here the whole time, and I had absolutely no idea.
Jude is standing in the kitchen when I walk into our apartment.
“He lives,” he says. “Coach called and said he’s been calling you. I told him you had food poisoning. He didn’t buy it, so pretty sure you’re getting bag skated tomorrow.”
“Worth it.”
He’s already texting someone, probably the guys, probably about me. “He said to tell you if you’re late one more time he’s sitting you a period.”
“He won’t.”
“He said it real serious.”
“He always says it real serious. Then I put up two and he forgets his own name.” I’m not bragging. It’s just how it works. You produce, you get a longer leash. I’ve got one of the longest leashes on the team.
“Where were you? Your car’s downstairs.”
“Two-oh-four.”
“The apartment with the college girls?”
“How do you know they’re in college?” I get a glass of water and drink it at the sink. My head’s pounding and there’s a lump on the back of it where my skull bounced off the hardwood.
“Because the dark-haired one’s been hooking up with Smitty for a month. He won’t shut up about it.” He takes a bit of toast and then speaks with his mouth full of bread. “Wait. Did you hook up with one of them?”
“No. The blonde let me in. Kind of.”
“What do you mean, kind of?”
“I fell into their apartment last night,” I say.
“Sure you did.”
“Straight through the door, flat on my back. So I figured I’d have some fun with it and crash on their couch.”
“And?”
“She didn’t kick me out.” I finish the water. “Then I offered to show her the Cup.”
“You’re still using that line?”
“It works most of the time.”
“Did it work on her?”
“Of course not. She’s kind of a buzzkill.” I fish my dead phone out of my pocket and plug it in. “Anyway, then I passed out and here we are.”
“I like her.”
Not the point. The point is she doesn’t like me. I’ve been alive twenty-two years and I honestly can’t remember the last time that happened.
He chews. “What’s she even look like, this girl who’s immune to you?”
“Blonde. Little. Freckles. Looked at me the whole time like I was dirt on her floor.”
“Sounds awful.”
“Yeah.” I’m grinning again. “It was great.”
I don’t chase women. I’ve never had to. They mostly just show up. But she told me no and now I can’t stop thinking about it.
My phone finally turns on and starts vibrating like crazy. The team chat. Coach. A couple women whose names I don’t remember. Everybody who wants a piece.
“She know who you are?” my roommate asks.
“Yeah.”
“And she still told you no.”
“Twice.”
He grins. “Okay, now I really like her.”
“So you keep saying.” I reach over and steal a piece of bacon off his plate.
“You’re gonna forget her by Thursday,” he says. “You forget everybody. You forgot you owned a phone.”
“I’ll remember her.”
“That’s what you said about—”
“I’ll remember her.”
He holds his hands up. Nothing’s ever held my attention the way hockey does. He’s not wrong to point that out. But he's wrong about this.
“She watches, though,” I say. “Her roommate said she watches the games.”
“So?”
“So she’ll come to a game.” I can feel myself grinning. “I’ll give her something to watch.”
He drags a hand down his face. “You’re gonna get benched making eyes at the stands.”
“I don’t make eyes. I make plays.” I finish his toast for him. “I’ve got a game plan.”
“You’ve got practice. That you missed.”
“That too.”