“I want to,” he says in a tone that brokers no arguments, putting his hand on my arm to drive the point in further. “Can I have your number? To coordinate and make sure everyone’s available.”
“Right, yeah, that helps.”
I give it to him, and he texts me immediately.
“Perfect. I’ll text you to set up our first lesson.”
“First?”
“Not sure how in depth you need to go, but I really appreciate you doing me this solid, so I’ll give you as many lessons as you need.”
I want to tell him one will be enough, that I don’t want to take up more of his time, but he gives me a warning look, as if he knows.
“I’ll see you later, Savannah.” He tips his head before leaving.
I watch Noah go and wait for my heart to settle before taking out my phone, planning to add his contact info. I assume his message will be something like his name, or a hi with the assumption that I know who it is, but he’s a fast – and smooth – texter.
Thanks for the assist, you saved my butt! Can’t wait to talk pucks ;)
Chapter Eight
Noah
You Job Is To Score
I have Friday afternoons off, because I didn’t feel like having to rush to catch the bus for away games. Usually, my roommates and I end up at home, eat together, maybe play some video games, before we carpool to the arena, but today I head to the library with Mike. He’s tutoring to help one of his regulars, and I’m meeting Savannah to talk hockey. Which feels ridiculous now that I’m here. Especially when I tried to make a course plan last night and realized I have no idea why she wants to know about hockey in the first place. My first thought about it being for a class isn’t likely, but it could be to impress a guy who’s taking her to a game. Or she might have a crush on one of my teammates, but I don’t think that’s the case. And not just because the thought of it makes me irrationally unhappy. Because I feel protective of her, not because I’m jealous.
“I’m done at 1:30, you?” Mike asks when we reach the tutoring center.
“Not sure yet. I’ll text you when I’m done.”
I said I was coming to study with a classmate. I’m not sure why I lied, other than studying doesn’t warrant as many questions as me coming here to teach someone something. Especially when I don’t have the answers as to why. As in why she needs it, or why I offered. Insisted, really. The asking I can blame on Izzie, but Savannah gave me the perfect out and I worked to convince her. Mostly succeeded, though she hasn’t agreed yet. She says she’d be happy to watch Izzie regardless, and even pointed out that my sister could teach her stuff during the game. Which is true, as Izzie both watches and plays a lot of hockey. But I hate asking for help or owing people favors. And, for some reason, I want to do this. It doesn’t hurt that Izzie screeched with excitement when I told her Savannah agreed to come to the game with her on Sunday.
I find Savannah at the same table as last time, by the fireplace. It’s getting chilly outside, but in here I’ll be sweating. Her coat is off, but wrapped around her in the seat while she types away on her laptop with a frown, biting her bottom lip.
“What are you working on?” I ask once I’m beside her, stopping myself from peeking, but I can’t help but smile when she jumps at the sound of my voice, putting her hand to her heart, again.
“Just a…something,” she says, her cheeks turning red. “Are you studying?”
“I said I’d help you,” I remind her, nodding to the seat across from her. “Is it taken?”
“No, but…you really don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say, again. “I love hockey and as much as my teammates do as well, we never really talk about it in broad terms. I realized when prepping for this that I could improve how I teach it to the handful of kids I coach who haven’t grown up watching it.”
“I don’t know if I’m more surprised that you prepped for this or that you teach kids.”
“I coach my sister’s hockey team,” I explain. “Do I not seem like the type who’d?—”
“No, of course not. Or, yes, you do. I just assumed you’d be too busy with school and your own hockey, and—” She gestures to me with her hand, and I remember telling her I wasn’t dating because I was too busy. Which is true. I just choose which headaches I want to deal with.
“It’s excruciatingly early, which is probably why they were short an assistant coach. As long as I don’t have away games, I just sacrifice a few hours of sleep, but they’ve always been understanding when I can’t make it.” They were so thrilled to have me back when I called to switch Izzie to Sunday mornings that I feel like an ass for being upset about it.
“That’s…Izzie’s really lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I say dismissively before opening my notebook. “And as far as prepping, I tried, but I didn’t know how deep you wanted me to go, or what I should focus on, because I never found out what it’s for. Why are you interested in hockey?” I look up expectantly. It’s a straightforward question, but a blush creeps onto her cheeks, and she looks like she wants to sink into the floor.
“Just curious.” She shrugs, but there is nothing casual about her.
