Rocky grabs my helmet and shakes it. “A girl is waiting for you out there,” he mutters, and I’m confused.
“What?”
“Some bitch wants to wish you good luck. She’s asking for you.”
Scott starts making a head bobbing motion, and I throw my hand in a jerk off motion, pretending my come just splattered against them all.
He stops the motion, satisfied, as I walk out, expecting to see long legs with a phone in one hand and a little purse in the other. But it’s not Cecily.
“Marina?” I question, surprised.
“Hey,” she lights up. “Sorry. I wanted to wish you good luck tonight. I tried to catch you before you went out.”
“Yeah, uh.” I scratch my head. “The way to the stands is around and through the doors on that side of the building.”
She nods, smiling at me. “Okay. Yeah. Bet.”
“Okay,” I stare awkwardly. It’s only her and me in here. “Thanks. I’ll see you out there.”
I turn on my heel to walk back, but she calls out, “Hey, do you want to get a quick bite after? I bet you’re starving after a game.”
“Sorry. I already have plans. Rain check?”
She nods. “No worries. Yeah, rain check.”
I turn around and walk back to the locker room, wondering how she built the nerve to get me out there alone before a game. When I get back, the guys are chattering.
“There he is,” Scott says. “Take notes, fellas. He’s getting more action lately than any of us.”
I shake my head.
“What did the mermaid want?” Rocky asks.
I look at him, confused. He knows her? I say, “To wish us luck.”
They all laugh.
“That’s all?”
I nod, needing to save her the embarrassment. “Yeah.”
Scott watches me like he knows I’m lying, but I’m not feeding into whatever bullshit ego he has going on.
When we’re warming up on the ice, I don’t expect to see Marina’s face right there in the stands, but there she is. Damn. I feel her eyes on me as I skate around and start doing stretches.
When the game starts, I keep looking in her direction. Some stupid part of me hopes to see Cecily sitting next to her.
Third period, I’m slammed against the damn boards like a rag doll. Ref calls a penalty, and I’m limping off the ice like a dog with its tail between its legs. Fucking hell.
The guys give me shit in the locker room, but Matt and Harvey back me up. I hear nothing but white noise.
When I’m back at the house, Westley retreats to his room. I pull out the chicken that Cecily made for us before the house party at Rocky’s and heat it in the microwave.
First, I take a pic of it and send it to her.
Dylan: Do you think this is still good to eat?
Cecily: Yeah
