I nod as he leaves, shrugging as I go back to skating. Dad’s got this call on lock.
Damn, my life is so odd.
13
MILES
“She’s driving herself?” I ask, pulling on my hair as I pace across the empty locker room floor. I am having one of the oddest conversations in my life.
“She drove from Tennessee to New Orleans,” Coach Freedman says. “She’s fine to drive 40 minutes.”
“I know, I just?—”
I‘m spiraling out right now. I’m unsure what the right thing to say to my scent match’s father is. He called me to give me permission to date his daughter, and I think my brain is on the fritz.
“You can’t treat her like a child,” he growls.
“I don’t see her like that,” I reassure him, wincing at how that came out. “Wait, let’s try this again. Yes, we’d love to see her after the game, I’ll make sure Santo and Levon know. I don’t know the area though, so I’ll need to find something…”
“There’s a late night coffee shop near the stadium that also has food,” Coach Freedman rumbles. “The parking lot is well lit, and I know the owner.”
“Oh.” I am so far out of my depth. “That’ll work, thank you. As you know, it’s hard to tell when we’ll be out of the stadium. Can I get her number?”
I don’t know how to do this. I haven’t spoken to her since the awkward bar incident, and I feel like I’m clawing the walls. Caelia’s father rattles off the details I need while I write it out on a white board in the locker room. It works well for running plays and apparently writing your scent match’s phone number down.
Saying goodbye, I enter all the information before beginning to erase it.
“Are you writing down phone numbers?” Levon asks, walking inside the locker room.
There will soon be a lot of players filling the space since they’ll be getting ready shortly. Our game at least is an earlier one than usual. I’ll take that small mercy.
“Caelia’s dad called me just now,” I say, glancing at him as I finish erasing the number. I don’t need anyone deciding to call her as a prank. “We’re going to see her tonight.”
“Fuck, really?!” he asks. I can tell that he’s trying to figure out what he’s going to wear from the frozen look of panic on his face.
“Just wear whatever you have in your locker,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I have a suit,” he says. “I have to talk with some of the fans before I go.”
“That’s fine. She’ll be at the coffee shop by nine,” I say. “We’ll be done by then.”
“Hopefully,” Levon sighs. “Shit. I need to tell Santo.”
My lips twitch as he fights his way past the other players, amused that he’s freaking out. It’s a big deal. We’re finally getting a chance to see her. The added benefit that her father is co-signing on this will help too.
Let it go well, please.
Leaving the guys to get ready, I studiously ignore Marilyn as I walk past her. I’d rather talk to my assistant coaches and let them talk my ears off than have to “report” this call to her. Thankfully, she’s called in a different direction, and I’m able to get away.
I know the woman works hard, but I’d like to keep this date away from her for as long as possible. It isn’t a media stunt.
SANTO
For the first time since I started working here, I can’t wait for a hockey game to end. I make sure everyone is taken care of, refusing to rush even though I’m chanting in my mind to hurry.
“Does anyone need anything else?” I call out, my eyes moving around the different rooms.
The team won their game, and most of tonight’s work has involved making sure everyone follows their post game rituals. I don’t mind leaning into these as long as it means they listen to me like good little hockey players.
