And I was watching slow-motion replays of a guy missing the net.
Harper clicked off the projector.
“Curfew at eleven,” she said.“Hydrate.Visualize.Win.”
“Win,” the team mumbled.
I was out of my chair before the lights came fully up.
“Where’s the fire, Monk?”Ryan asked, stretching, a grin spreading across his face.
“Sleep,” I said.“Need the rest.”
“Right.Rest.”Ryan winked.“Say hi to Math for me.Don’t do too much cardio tonight.”
I walked out of the conference room my face turning who knows how many shades of crimson.I hit the elevator button.I tapped my foot against the carpet until the doors slid open.
I rode up to the fourth floor alone.
I walked down the long, beige hallway.Room 408.Room 410.
Room 412.
I stopped, took a breath, smoothed my hair, pulled the keycard out of my pocket, and entered.
Chapter 21
Variable Crash
Austen
The algorithm for a successful academic conference trip is simple: Arrive early, verify reservation, review notes, sleep.
My trip to Boston was failing on step one.
I was somewhere on the Mass Pike, gripping the steering wheel of my 2014 Camry as if it were the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.Traffic was a snarl of brake lights and aggressive lane changes.
My GPS claimed I would arrive at the Marriott Copley Place in forty-five minutes.My anxiety claimed I would be stuck here until the next ice age.
I turned up the volume on the podcast—Topology and the Shape of Space—but the host’s soothing voice couldn’t drown out the variables bouncing around my skull.
Variable A:The Northeast Regional Mathematics Symposium.I was presenting a paper on “Quantifying the Crease: A Geometric Analysis of Goaltender Efficiency and High-Danger Probability.”It was a good paper.It deserved my full attention.
Variable B:The Frost Demons were playing Northeastern tomorrow.
Variable C:Luke.
I wasn’t going to a conference.I was chasing a bus.I was driving three hours into a snowstorm to be in the same zip code as a goalie who had started signing his texts withwe iterate.
Everything about our relationship defied logic.Yet, it was the most exciting thing I’d done… ever.
I checked my phone at a standstill.
Luke:You flying the Camry or driving it?
I smiled, typing back a retort about low-altitude flight.
He was thinking about me.He was on a bus full of teammates, heading into a high-pressure game, and he was thinking about my beat-up sedan.
