Chapter 13 #2
“Yeah, sweet is not the word I’d use,” I say dryly. “More like embarrassing. Like I need more help in that department,” I mutter under my breath. “Anyway, I told them to stay over there, so they shouldn’t bother us again.”
She glances over my shoulder to the bar.
“Are they watching us?” I ask, though I’m certain I know the answer.
She nods. “Yeah.”
“I’m really sorry. Do you want to go somewhere else?” So much for redeeming myself tonight.
Her gaze comes back to land on me. I can’t believe she hasn’t run out the door yet.
“Would it help to have your friends with us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said they were worried about you freezing up. Are you also worried about that?”
“Always,” I admit.
“Is it easier with them around?”
My immediate reaction is to say no, but that isn’t completely accurate. “Sometimes.”
Her brows lift as if to suggest something.
“Oh no.” I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Will I learn more about you with them or without?”
I grimace.
Whitney grins and then stands. She takes my hand and pulls me to my feet and then she’s leading me back toward my friends.
I spot our server and motion toward the bar. She nods knowingly.
“You sure about this?” I ask as we get over into the bar side. “We haven’t even eaten yet.”
“We can order from the bar.”
“Really. I appreciate this, but . . .” It feels pathetic.
She stops and turns to face me. This is the moment she bails. I wouldn’t even blame her.
“You aren’t going to screw this up.” She smiles at me. “Even without them, I’m pretty much a sure thing. I’ve been dying to see you again.”
“You have?”
She nods, and her smile curves higher. “And while hooking up with you is fun, I want to know some things about you too. So if this will make you more comfortable, then I’m fine with it. They seem nice.”
“Nice,” I huff. “They’re nosy as fuck.”
With one last grin, she pulls me the rest of the way to my friends.
D-Low and Travis are exactly where I left them. When they spot us, both break out into wide smiles.
“We decided to join you,” Whitney says. “So you can give me all the dirt on Conrad.”
Travis laughs. “With pleasure.”
“Awesome,” D-Low says. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I got it,” I say, still glaring at him a little. My expression softens when I look at Whitney.
“Dr Pepper and Fireball,” she says.
My brows rise.
“I know. It sounds terrible, but it’s good.”
“Two Dr Peppers with Fireball,” I tell the bartender. “And a couple of waters.”
“Ooh and can we get an order of jalapeno poppers?” Whitney asks. She pulls out a credit card, but I stop her before she hands it to the guy.
“I got it.”
She looks like she wants to protest, but I flash her a smile, and she puts her card away. With our drinks in hand, the four of us head to a table. It’s our usual one on game nights, so there are extra chairs on either side.
As if he’s thinking the same thing as me, Travis says, “Galaxy and Penn are going to be sad they missed this.”
“I’m sure you’ll fill them in.” I lean back in my chair. Whitney and I are sitting side by side now and it helps ease some of my nerves not looking directly at her.
“So, Whitney, you’re a high school hockey coach?” Trav asks her.
“She coaches the JV team,” D-Low answers, then tells her, “I was at the home opener with Shep and Penn. You have some real talent on the team.” He rests one elbow on the table and takes a drink of his beer while he waits for her reply.
Unlike me, D-Low has a way with people—specifically women.
He makes everyone feel interesting because he’s genuinely interested in them.
He likes people and talking, getting to know them, hearing different perspectives and learning things.
If he weren’t my best friend in the world, I might be concerned he’d steal Whitney right from underneath me.
But D-Low being here, however misguided, is all about helping me out. I know he’d do anything for me.
“Yeah, we do. The boys are great. They are having a tough run right now, but the talent is there.” Whitney seems calm and unbothered despite the way my friends are gearing up to interrogate her.
“Did you play hockey too?” Travis asks.
She nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t very good.”
“I doubt that,” I say. “I’ve seen you on the ice. You’re a great skater and you’re smart.”
“Unfortunately, those two things don’t always translate to doing it well.” She smiles at me. “I wasn’t nearly as good as my brother.”
She flushes as soon as the words are out of her mouth like she hadn’t meant to say them out loud.
“A brother, huh?” D-Low tries to play it off but Whitney laughs.
“She knows that you know Victor is her brother,” I tell him. “And that we don’t like him.” I flash her an apologetic smile.
“I get it. The rivalry is alive and well. The feeling is mutual.”
Travis’s jaw flexes like he’s holding back comments on it being a lot more than some stupid rivalry, but it’s a topic I don’t want to get into tonight.
“Are you two close?” D-Low asks her.
All three of us look to her, waiting for the answer.
“Yeah, we are. I worked for him before taking the teaching and coaching job here in Moonshot.”
“You did?” I ask her.
“I started working as his assistant when I was in college,” she says with a nod.
“It was only a few hours to start. I did things like managing his schedule and taking care of his apartment while he was traveling, grocery shopping and making sure his bills got paid. Then when I graduated, there weren’t a lot of job opportunities, and Victor’s schedule was busier than ever and he bought a house and got a dog. ” She shrugs. “He needed me.”
“What brought you to Moonshot specifically?” Travis’s face looks less intense now, but I know he’s still struggling not to talk shit about Victor. “There have to be a lot of teaching and coaching jobs closer to home.”
Whitney lifts her drink and sips from the straw.
It’s the first time she’s looked uncomfortable with the questioning.
She sets the glass down. “My mom died. She lived here in Moonshot and left me her house. Plus, there are fewer coaching positions than you might think. When I found a job here, it felt like fate.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like a jerk for not knowing any of this. I really am the worst fucking date ever. In five minutes, my friends know more than I’ve managed in weeks.
“It’s okay.” Her smile lifts but isn’t all that believable. “We didn’t have much of a relationship. My parents split when I was a baby, and I lived with my dad and brother.”
Under the table I move my leg over to rest against hers. She glances down and a little warmth seeps back into her smile.
“Now that you know my entire life story, tell me about this one.” She tips her head toward me.
“What do you want to know?” D-Low sounds a little too eager to give up information about me.
“Hmm . . .” She thinks for a moment. “Is Goon really his favorite hockey movie?”
My buddies bust up laughing.
“Goon?” Travis asks. “Really?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” D-Low says. “He makes me watch it every other month.”
“I stand by my choice.” I nudge her leg a little harder. She pushes back playfully.
“I do love a good underdog story,” Travis says.
“Exactly.” I wave a hand in his direction. “See? He gets it.”
Whitney takes another sip of her drink. “Another reason you should watch Dirty Dancing. Johnny and Baby are both underdogs in their own ways.”
D-Lows brows rise.
“It’s her favorite movie,” I say to explain.
“Great flick,” Travis says.
D-Low and I both look at him. Trav shrugs. “It is.”
“You like everything,” D-Low tells him.
“That’s true. I’m easy to please.” He grins like he’s proud of that. Come to think of it, he probably is. D-Low makes people feel like part of the group, but Travis is always looking to make sure the mood is high, and everyone is happy.
“How long have you all been friends?” she asks next.
“I was already on the team when Conrad joined. When was that?” Trav asks me. “Three years ago.”
“And I joined a year later,” D-Low says. “So about two years.”
“Is he a good friend?” she asks them while looking at me. Her smile suggests she knows the answer.
“The best,” D-Low and Trav say simultaneously.
She chuckles. “I knew that one. I was just testing you guys.”
“Shep’s salt of the earth.” D-Low lifts his beer to me.
I tip my glass to him in response. “Right back at ya. At least when you aren’t crashing my dates.”
D-Low doesn’t even pretend to look guilty for it. Trav clears his throat to bring our attention to him.
I laugh and then move my glass toward him. “You too, buddy.”
“Oh. I see a friend of mine.” Whitney pushes her chair back, taking the warmth and pressure of her leg from mine in the process. “Sorry. One second. I want to say hi.”
I look toward the restaurant door where a woman with brown hair, a shade or two lighter than Whitney’s, stands next to a tall guy. The woman looks uncomfortable, hands clasped in front of her as she stares at the ground.
Whitney flashes me a grin as she hovers beside me. “Don’t talk shit about my brother while I’m gone.”