I look at her incredulously, then count reasons off on my fingers. “I need to be professional, I’m older than him, he’s insanely hot and I’m-”
“If you say you’re not, I’m going to slap you,” she interrupts.
I give her a frustrated look, but I don’t finish the thought. “Look,” I say instead, “aside from the fact I was hired to help him with a problem and shouldn’t be lusting after him, he’s out of my league.”
“Why is he out of your league? Because you’re a couple years older than him?”
“Three years.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “First of all, the years mean nothing. You look young. Second, as I’ve told you multiple times, you’re beautiful. Stop suggesting you aren’t. Even if you’re not supermodel gorgeous, do you think he’s so shallow he can’t find you attractive?”
“He doesn’t seem interested,” I argue, not bothering to address the individual points.
“He called you beautiful.”
“He called my tattoos beautiful.”
“He asked you to undress for him.”
“So it would be easier to massage my neck.”
She smiles triumphantly. “Aha! He found an excuse to touch you.”
“He saw I was in pain, and, nice guy that he is, he offered to help.”
Celena throws up her hands in defeat. “Fine. I give up. Spend the next few months torturing yourself by lusting after him in secret rather than opening yourself up to the possibility he might actually like you.”
She swipes up her wine glass and marches off to harumph down onto the couch. I sigh heavily and pick up my glass to go join her.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I sit down next to her. “I know my pessimistic streak drives you crazy. I just can’t help it sometimes. I’ve let too manymen undermine my confidence, and I don’t know how to pull up out of this nosedive now.”
My eyes start to prick, but I force back the moisture. I won’t let them have any more of my tears.
Celena puts an arm around my shoulders. She’s always there to pick up the pieces when my dating life inevitably goes to hell. When I couldn’t stop crying after a particularly bad breakup years ago, she came over and brought me to her house to spend the night so I wouldn’t be alone.
I rest my head on Celena’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me by keeping an open mind,” she says. “I just have a good feeling about this guy, and I don’t want you to dismiss the possibilities because you’re afraid of being hurt again.” She pauses. “What about the dick pic?”
“A mistake. He meant to send it to his ex, Grace.”
“You asked him?” she asks, and I nod. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
“Tell me about it,” I mumble.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
Ash
The second period is about to start, and I’m feeling okay. I’m not playing too bad, and no one has chirped at me yet.
It’s our opening game, and everyone is a little nervous, so maybe they all have better things to worry about than getting on my case.
The game is scoreless so far, but not for lack of trying. Both goalies have been putting on a clinic, so it’s been hard to get anything past them. I had a great shot toward the end of the first period, but Cote couldn’t get his stick out of the way fast enough, and it barely deflected the puck so it hit the post instead of going in.
The shot gave me some confidence, though, and I feel like I’m settling in. Coach has me at second line, and I’m excited as the puck drops to startthe next period. When my shift comes around, I’m chomping at the bit to get out there, so I practically fly over the boards.
