Enzo is in Boston.
Like, this Boston. Not far-off Boston, England.
And worse, he’s on this team.
As if it’s not bad enough that he’s in my dreams all the time, he has to invade my real life. So much for nightmares not stalking you into the real world.
Enzo is the Dark Lord himself, just with glowing smooth skin, umber eyes that look innocent and uncertain, as if someone cast a deception spell, and full lips that are always twisting into an expression I can’t read and that are definitely not covered by a wild beard.
Enzo was too near when he was in Los Angeles, even though we played in separate conferences.
I’m grateful when Jason shows him to the coffee room, since Enzo decided showing up sleepy to the first day of work as a new Blizzard was a solid career move.
Absolute idiot. Like when he stayed up half the night to help me study for my philosophy final just because I said Kant was incomprehensible, even though he had his own tests to study for.
Not that academic work was something he struggled with.
I rip off the tape on my hockey stick and ignore the worried looks from my teammates.
Someone has set the temperature of the locker room to boiling, and I glare under the way-too-hot lights. I won’t faint. No way. I won’t.
“Dude.” Troy slides onto the bench beside me and lowers his voice. “Are you okay?”
“If Sauron casually moved to the Shire, would you be happy?”
Troy blinks. “That depends. Am I a hobbit in this scenario?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. And Sauron is living in Hobbiton and planting cabbages beside you.”
“If I were a hobbit, I would prefer to work in a pub,” Troy muses. “More people to talk to. They could tell me about dragons and fairies and things. Way more interesting than cabbages.”
“Whatever. The point is, this is a disaster.”
Troy opens his mouth, and I brace for sympathy. His face goes soft. A comforting platitude is coming for sure.
Troy is the caretaker of the team. Something about being the goalie or something. Like he wants to have the whole teammates’ backs no matter how terribly we play.
When Finn and Noah had a misunderstanding after they got married, Troy moved Noah into the apartment he shared with Luke so he would be taken care of.
I turn to Troy, wondering what words of wisdom he’ll say that will make me feel better about this situation.
He smiles. “You and Bellanti used to be great friends. You went to college together. Maybe you can consider being friends again?”
Well. That was deeply unhelpful. Troy is supposed to be understanding, not a jerk.
I toss my stick onto the floor. It bangs, and Troy winces.
I smirk. “That was awful advice.”
“But—” Troy’s forehead crinkles.
“Enzo and I will never be friends. Enzo is untrustworthy and unlikable, and, uh…revolting.”
“But you used to like him?—”
I wave my hand away. “I used to think Disney films were the height of entertainment. I begged my mother for Tarzan bedding. Do you have any idea how many loincloths can fit on a twin comforter?”
Troy blinks.
