Chapter Twelve
Dash
When it comes to romance, I’ve made quite the fool of myself. And I don’t just mean in my last relationship, either. I’m talking all the way back to grade school.
Take my fourth-grade crush, Cindy, for example. I had one of my buddies run up to her on the playground and tell her I liked her, just for her to turn around, make a face at me, then run in the opposite direction.
From then on, it felt like I had one bad experience after another.
My sixth-grade girlfriend moved out of state without telling me.
I expected to see her back at school when we started the seventh grade, but she never showed.
Then Leslie, the girl I asked to go steady with me my sophomore year, cheated on me right before the spring formal.
She wasn’t always the nicest but seeing her kiss the star quarterback under the bleachers during my first track meet hurt a lot worse than any of the mean things she had said.
And of course, I can’t forget Sarah. Sure, there were a couple of solid contenders in between all those bad experiences, but they never turned into more, so they can’t count.
Now this. I give my number out for the first time since getting my heart obliterated by Sarah and it’s a total bust. Ah, well.
It’s not like I had plans to stay in DC after this tournament or anything.
I guess with my career up in the air like it is, I thought anything could be possible if I’d met the right person.
Some guys in this sport make long distance work. Could I? And if I did go for it, would I be able to attain something close to the life-changing romance my parents had? Guess it’s all a moot point when it comes to Ruby.
I still don’t know why she isn’t into me, but I’m almost positive it has something to do with my hockey career. Either way, it’s not something I can dwell on right now. I’ve have too many people depending on me to be at my best for the next few weeks to worry about a girl anyway.
This isn’t grade school, this is life in the pros. I’ve got a job I need to keep a clear head for, an impending permanent injury I need to avoid at all costs.
That’s what I tell myself heading into practice this afternoon.
We’ve got Game Two tomorrow, and though we won the first, Coach wants us to work on tightening up a few things.
The drills have been challenging but in a good way.
As long as my shoulder holds up, I’ll keep giving it my all in practice and in the games.
I’m counting each day a blessing, despite the unknowns. If I can keep moving, I can keep playing. I’ll worry about what comes after this season later.
The chatter from the locker room fills my ears as I push open the door to suit up. A couple of the guys are joking with each other, and I’m about to toss a quip their way to join in when my phone pings with a message.
I drop my bag onto one of the benches and take a seat, opening up the message from some unknown number. A picture of Ruby and me from last night appears, along with one of her, Beck, and me. A smile born of pure delusion starts on my face before I remember where I’m at and tamp it down.
I click out of the picture and open the text portion of the message.
Unknown Number: Here you go.
Wow. That’s it? Just…here you go?
Still, I save her number into my phone as Tinsel. Ruby with the tinsel feels too long, and at this point, unnecessary. She’s the only woman I’ve ever seen wear the sparkly accessory in her hair. It’s what caught my eye the first time we met and one of the small things that makes her unique.
Me: Thanks. I appreciate it.
There. A clear, concise expression of gratitude. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping that this small text exchange will lead to more, but I’m not going to push for anything. She’s a nice girl who gives a great haircut. That’s what I try to convince myself of, at least.
But you felt the spark you’ve been waiting for with her. Don’t deny it.
I scrub a hand down my face, more than a little annoyed that my inner conscience sounds exactly like Max.
I save the image Ruby sent to my phone—why, I don’t know—and drop the device back into my bag.
“Sore, DiFranco?” Jake eyes my shoulder.
It’s no secret to the rest of the team that I’ve been dealing with some pain. But they don’t realize the extent of it. If I can keep disguising it, I will. No one needs to know how touch and go my career is right now.
“Not too bad.” I give the tight muscles a rub and stretch. “Ready for another round.”
He nods good naturedly. “Good. We need you out there.”
We exchange a few more words while I begin to change, but another buzz from my bag catches my attention. I drop my shirt onto the bench and bend to pick up my phone.
Tinsel: I wanted to apologize for last night.
You were asking me some very pointed questions and I froze.
It’s not that I didn’t want to give you an answer, I just wasn’t sure what to say at the time.
But you were partially right. I didn’t text or call because I knew I’d be seeing you at the game and didn’t want to make it weird.
Another text pops up right after.
Tinsel: Truth be told, I am deeply introverted.
And I got a little starstruck when you came into the salon unexpectedly.
My default reaction was to pretend I didn’t know who you were.
By the time I decided I should tell you about Beck winning the tickets, it had gone on too long and there was no way I could untangle my web of weirdness.
Then you left your number and…well, you know the rest. Anyway, I’m sorry for being quiet and awkward.
You’ve been very generous and very kind and I appreciate it.
“What are you smiling at?” I turn my phone dark on instinct and angle toward Jake. “Nothing. Just got a text from a friend.”
He hums, not quite looking convinced. I decide to wait until after practice to respond to Ruby’s message. There’s a lot to unpack there, and I want to give her a well-thought-out response.
After all the guys suit up, we spread out on the ice for conditioning and drills.
My body’s engaged and working hard, but my mind keeps running back to Ruby’s text.
I get her being introverted and overwhelmed.
That actually makes a lot of sense. But I’m just me—not some stuck up, out of touch celebrity.
Just a guy who walked into a salon and gave a cute girl he felt something with his number.
She’s way off base with the awkward comment, though. Last night, she seemed mostly at ease once we got to talking, even more than at the salon. Aside from the time she dove behind the lighted tree to avoid seeing me. That was downright hilarious.
The only person who was awkward last night was me, pushing to get her number a second time. I guess I thought…I don’t know…that we had a mutual attraction, maybe? But while I felt the kind of spark I described to Max, it’s possible she felt zilch.
Didn’t something similar happen with my ex?
Seems silly to admit, but seeing her brother with the sign, then her blush any time he mentioned her thinking I was hot, gave me an unrealistic burst of hope. I thought for sure she’d at least let me get her number after that.
Anyway—none of that matters now. I do have her number—which she gave me willingly, along with an apology. I just want her to know she’s not awkward and didn’t make last night weird.
By the time practice ends, I’m dripping with sweat. But I’m also a lot more confident with the response I’m going to text Ruby.
I skate to the edge of the ice and grab my water bottle, squirting the contents into my mouth…only to spew the sour, lukewarm liquid right back out.
“What the heck?” I toss my water bottle onto the bench, confused as to how straight vinegar got poured inside.
“Something the matter, DiFranco?” our captain, Tyson, asks.
I blink at him. “Someone put vinegar in my water bottle.”
A few of the guys laugh, obviously enjoying my plight. Then it dawns on me that this must be a prank. Almost everyone has been a victim at one time or another. Guess I had it coming. Just wish I knew who the prankster was, so I could give it right back.
“I’d pay better attention to my stuff in the locker room if I were you.” Coach says, shaking his head as he walks off. “Get some rest, everyone. You’ll need it.”
After refilling my water bottle with actual water, I see the physical therapist and hit the showers. Once I make it to my rental car, I type out a text to Ruby.
Me: Hey. I also appreciate you explaining yourself, though don’t feel like you have to.
You don’t owe me anything. I’m an extrovert, but even I clam up in some social situations, so I get it.
And just so you know, I enjoyed getting to know you and your brother last night.
I meant what I said—he’s a great kid. If you wouldn’t consider it weird and aren’t too busy, I’d like to extend tickets to tomorrow night’s game to you and Beck as well.
He seemed to really enjoy himself. I promise there are no strings attached.
If you want the tickets, they’re yours. I can have someone drop them off at the salon today. Just let me know.
I hit send, hoping I made the right move with the tickets. I’m not trying to foist myself on Ruby and her family; I just want to give her brother the opportunity to see the next game live. They don’t even have to see me tomorrow; just come and enjoy the game.
While I wait for her reply, I put the car in gear and head for the hotel. The women’s Game Two is tonight, and some of us guys want to be there to show our support. But I’d like to enjoy some down time and rest before going out again.
Just as I step into the hotel lobby, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and read the text as I walk toward the elevators.
Tinsel: That’s so kind of you to offer us tickets, but we wouldn’t want to take advantage. And thanks for understanding, especially the part where I completely embarrassed myself with that whole fake tree debacle. Ha. Good luck tomorrow night!
I press the button to make the screen go dark before jamming a finger into the up arrow outside of the elevators. It irks me that Ruby’s being stubborn about the tickets when I know her brother would love it.
The elevator dings and the doors open. A few people in business attire exit, giving me an opening to step inside. I hit the button for my floor and lean against the interior wall, pulling up the text thread again.
Me: I promise that accepting these tickets wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I’m offering them to my friend Beck. He deserves to see how it all ends. And thanks for the well wishes! Btw: If you end up accepting the tickets, he could always come with someone else, so you wouldn’t have to see me.
There. I removed myself from the equation altogether. Problem should be solved.
I send the text and the elevator dings again, signaling that I’ve reached my floor. The doors open and I step into an empty hall, still staring at my phone. The text receipt shows that it’s been read. I hurry into my suite, toss my bag on the floor, and flop down onto the couch.
Her response comes through the next second.
Tinsel: You’re welcome for the well wishes. And it’s not really possible for someone else to take Beck to the game. Our mom is dealing with complications from a stroke she had nine months ago, so…it’s just me right now.
Dang. That reason alone could be why she never called or texted when I left her my number. She’s got a lot going on, it seems. Before I can reply, another text comes through.
Tinsel: Sorry. I didn’t mean to overshare and make things awkward.
Me: You have nothing to be sorry for. I overstepped. I’m considering never opening my big mouth again after our interactions…
Tinsel: Aw, don’t say that. I know you mean well, Dash. And we really do appreciate the offer.
Me: Please allow me to gift these tickets to Beck. It’s the least I can do after putting my foot in my mouth.
Tinsel: You’re very sweet. And hard to say no to lol. I guess since the tickets are mostly for Beckett, we’ll accept.
I huff a relieved sigh. “So she doesn’t completely hate my guts,” I say aloud to no one.
Me: Awesome. Would you mind if I stopped by to drop them off to you today?
It only takes a few seconds of the dots popping up then disappearing before another text comes through.
Tinsel: I don’t mind. We’re open until 6 pm.
My entire body relaxes into the couch cushion like one, big sigh of relief.
Me: Great. See you then.
I lay my phone down on my stomach as a wide grin splits across my face. It’s not necessary for me to stop by the salon to gift them the regular tickets, but I have something better in mind.
Will Ruby think it’s better, though? Guess I’ll have to wait and see.