Well, I’m good, I begin, and he chuckles in his low, appealing way. No, seriously. I love that shit—pressure, big games, attention. Mine was always the first hand up when the coach asked who wanted to do the shootout.
Mats shakes his head. Wish I could mainline your attitude.
I grin. Yeah, but what’s the downside? Even if I screw up, who gives a shit? Sure, my teammates are going to mock me, but they do that anyway. As you saw back there.
Now he’s staring with admiration.
So, how did the game go for you guys? I ask.
Marjorie had a great time. She had a lot of questions, but I answered most of them. Good thing I did some studying last night.
Studying what?
Minks stats. Like who the leading scorer is.
I grin, because that would be me.
I don’t know if your goal is going to seal the deal, but it sure didn’t hurt. He sighs. You set the bar pretty high.
What are you talking about? I demand.
Marjorie wants to see one of my games now. With you. But I can’t guarantee any goals. After all, I’m not the top scorer on my team.
Yeah, but you’re no scrub. You’re third in points now, right? I say.
Why, Cleo, have you been checking out my stats? Mats’s grin is adorable.
I blush, then decide to go for it.
Did you want to go out now? I usually eat after a game.
He chuckles. Of course you do. You and your insane metabolism. As he considers my question, I cross my fingers behind my back.
I’ve already eaten, he begins, and my hopes sag. But if you want some company, I can get a drink or something.
My hopes bounce back up. Okay. Well, we could go to the pub, I guess. That’s where the team goes. But I’d rather go someplace quieter, so I can hear about your night. How about H.O.S.? The House of Sandwich is the only all-night diner in St. Viola. For once, I’d rather not run into my teammates.
Mats jangles his keys. Actually, I drove Marjorie here, so I have my car. There’s a Chinese restaurant that’s open late on the highway to Duluth.
Perfect, let’s go.
We pull up to Lucky Fortune House ten minutes later. I decide that leaving Marjorie’s flowers in the car, but inside my gym bag, will keep them from freezing.
I’ve never gotten flowers before, I confess as I carefully wrap them up in a sweatshirt.
Really? Not even for birthdays? Or prom? Mats asks.
Nah, my family isn’t into flowers. And I went to prom with a bunch of my girlfriends.
The restaurant is almost empty, and the waitress motions for us to sit anywhere we want. We slip into a booth with cracked vinyl seating and a Formica tabletop. She brings us laminated menus and a pot of green tea with two rounded cups.
Mats pours tea into both cups and passes one to me. Now I find his good manners charming, rather than irritating. What a difference a night makes.
Thanks. Are you really not going to eat anything? I ask.
I’ll probably eat something, but not a whole meal. Why don’t we order a couple of dishes and share them?
I agree, and we order right away since I’m starving. Mats tells me more about Marjorie’s reactions to the game and everything that happened in the stands.
