I sit very still, staring at Aiden.
And I see nothing but sincerity shining in those unique gray eyes of his.
“I’ll tell you my story, but only if you agree to tell me yours, too,” I say.
He nods. “That’s only fair. To be honest? If you only talked about yourself and never asked me a question, that would be a huge red flag.”
I chuckle. “Have you ever gone out with anyone like that? I have.”
“Now that’s a story I want to hear.”
I take a sip of my coffee as I pull my thoughts together. I put the cup down and begin.
“It was in college. I went to a small school in Connecticut,” I explain. “And my bestie had set me up with this guy. His credentials were that he was the president of a top fraternity and hot. Pre-med. She said he was super smart, and I’d love him. So we met at a bar off campus for a drink, and I think it was the longest hour of my life. Sawyer—that was his name—was hot and smart. I’ll give credit where credit is due. But for the full hour, he talked entirely about himself. His connected family. His fraternity. In fact, his fraternity life took up ninety percent of the hour, I think. Then he told me he usually didn’t go outwith non-Greek girls. I wasn’t in a sorority, so this was a major exception to his rules. Then, instead of asking me anything—even ‘Why didn’t you rush a sorority?’—he went back to talking about himself!”
“Please tell me you left after that,” Aiden says, smiling at me.
“I suddenly got a headache. It wasn’t a lie,” I say. “Sawyer was exhausting. When I got back to my apartment, I told my best friend her credentials to play Cupid were canceled. I can’t believe someone who knew me so well thought I would like an arrogant narcissist like him. We actually ended up having a good laugh over it.”
For a split second, I remember how Phoebe apologized, saying she didn’t know, he seemed nice when she met him through one of his fraternity brothers. We laughed and laughed that night and ended up making margaritas and drinking to my escape from him instead.
A wistful twinge runs through me.I want to laugh like that with a friend again,I think. To share stories and experiences and laugh so hard you get tears in your eyes.
“So why Connecticut?” Aiden asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“I wanted to go to a small school with a strong sports media program,” I explain. “When I toured universities, I never felt comfortable on big campuses, even though they might have more sports to cover, or the idea of sitting in a big lecture hall. St. Valentine’s University gave me everything I needed. Plus, the campus is in the same town as the offices for Total Access Total Sports New England, where I interned.”
“I know you work for Real Miami,” Aiden says. “But did you ever want to work in media relations for an NHL team?”
I shake my head. “No. I know my last name is a hinderance to that. My dad is an NHL coach. One of my brothers plays in Las Vegas. The other is in Switzerland. Our name is known in the league. I could only work for the team my dad worked for—like what other team would hire another coach’s daughter, right? And if the Manatees hired me for anything, everyone would say it was due to my last name, you know?”
Aiden nods in understanding.
“It’s why I went to a school that didn’t even have a hockey team,” I continue. “I was able to have an identity outside of the Rivershon name at St. Valentine’s. They have men’s and women’s soccer teams, and I handled media relations for them. And it led to my job with Real Miami.”
What I keep to myself is what I’d do in an ideal world. Because if I could do anything, I’d love to be a photographer for a pro hockey team. I take pictures at hockey games and practices whenever my schedule allows, and I love it. I love capturing those moments, of bringing a dangerous and brilliant game alive in pictures. It’s a challenge. It moves fast, and I have to do the same to capture key moments.
It’s my true passion. But I knew it would be more practical to study media relations, and as it turns out, I get to take quite a few pictures for my job.
So I’m focusing on social media instead. I enjoy being with Real Miami. I’m lucky to have the job I have, to work in professional sports.
And that’s enough.
Right?
“It’s funny. I grew up the same way, with hockey,” Aiden says. “My dad and uncles all played. My brothers, Wyatt and Ryder, played. Now we all play in the NHL.” Then he almost looks embarrassed. “Why am I telling you this? You probably know all of that.”
“I kind of like the fact that you did,” I say softly. “You aren’t treating me like the coach’s daughter, but as someone you don’t know.”
“To be fair,” Aiden says slowly, “you are the coach’s daughter, but I don’tknowyou. Which is why I’m here.”
I feel my heartbeat quicken. “I’m glad, because I want to know you, too,” I say. “Beyond what’s on social media. Which, based on that, I learned you made a taco for a partnership post two months ago, breaking a two-year drought from your last carousel of vacation photos.”
An embarrassed flush colors his neck, lighting up his pale skin to a warm shade of pink that I can see despite the dim lighting.
This hockey star isblushing.And I don’t think I’ve seen anything so adorable and sexy in my entire life.
“Unless I count all the TikToks dedicated to you,” I continue. “There are an obscene number of those. But to be fair, you aren’t the one posting those.”
