“No, it was private. I didn’t think it’d be cool of me to eavesdrop on you,” she said, her voice small. “It went well? You’re smiling.”
“It did, and guess what?”
She narrowed her eyes, her expression looking so much like her dad’s it was a harsh reminder that any lusty thoughts of mine should be chucked out the bus window. “Hm?”
“You’re joining us tomorrow at the diner for our post-game chat. Bring those data sets, you cute little nerd. You’re officially invited to the jock table.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Naomi
I paced our small kitchen, and Mona snickered. I barely got any sleep the night before while putting together my potential idea.
Player Profiles. Like interactive hockey cards.
Areas of strength. Areas that needed work. Areas where they made the team stats better.
Qualitative and quantitativedynamicdata for players. It took hours to compile one for Helsing. Hours. But it was the first flicker of an idea that got me excited. It came to me after all the bullshit with Cal. How could a guy like him—all stats and talent—be worse for a team? How could we prove that?
Dashboards for player profiles? I was sure they’d been done before, but ones createdforthe end user to manipulate as the season went on? I saw the benefit—full profiles and adjusting game plans based on the results. It could work… or my dad could shoot it down. Just thinking about him dismissing the idea was enough to have me bite my nail for the third time.
“You’re adorable right now, all nervous like you’re trying out for Mathletes,” Mona said, adjusted her hair as she stared at me.
“First off, I was a Mathlete and won a thousand bucks for a competition,” I said, holding up a finger. “Secondly, I am nervous. I finally feel like this project has legs. I’mexcitedabout it.”
She nodded, her face softening in understanding. “Okay, then I won’t tease you about how you definitely put an extra layer of mascara on and that probably has nothing to do with that sexy-as-hell baby hockey coach.”
“Michael,” I said, my face heating at how transparent I was. God, all the casual touching we did felt scandalous. Just thinking about how close we were to kissing in that bathroom...I swallowed, hard. “It’s not, I’m not…”
“Girl, you look good.”
I eyed my favorite ripped jeans, bright orange chucks, and long-sleeved CENTRAL t-shirt. It wasn’t my favorite outfit, but it bolstered my confidence. “We almost kissed,” I said, already preparing myself for Mona to squee.
She didn’t though. I arched a brow and stared at her like she grew two heads. “Wait, you’re not reacting.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re never this quiet.”
“Shh,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “He’s a hockey dude, working for your dad. He goes against all your rules. Sure, he’s hot, and y’all had chemistry, but Fletcher, he’d break your heart.”
“You don’t know that,” I said right back, even though it was statistically the truth. Hockey would always come first to him, and I knew how that story ended.
“True, and he might be a great guy. But he’ll be a hockey coach.” She chewed the side of her mouth and slumped her shoulders. “You know what it did to your family.”
I didn’t need a reminder. My stomach soured, and the butterflies I had earlier when I thought about Michael migrated away, leaving me feeling cold and empty. Offering her a tight smile, I grabbed my bag and keys and walked toward the door. “Wish me luck.”
“Hey, I’m not trying to upset you. Just, I’ve watched you try to piece together your family for years. I want you to be happy and to have fun, but remember where his life is heading.”
My muscles tightened as I left our apartment and made my way to the diner. Mona always gave it to me straight. We were all friends, but Mona never held back. The issues with my dad, the fact my mom was so focused on her new family that I felt left behind, and the situation with Cami. She knew the good and bad about me, and her heart was in the right place.
Falling for Michael Reiner wouldn’t end well for me. It didn’t matter how much I enjoyed his company or the way I was so connected to him. Or how he stood up for what he felt was right, even if it pissed my dad off.
“Naomi?” a familiar voice knocked me out of my mind. My sister wore a full face of make-up, jeans, and a crop top that showed her toned stomach.
Even early in the morning on what I assumed was her walk back from wherever she spent the night, she was beautiful. “Hey,” I said, my insides twisting.
“You never texted me back. I’ve been trying to call you.” She ran a hand over her perfectly tousled hair and glanced at the ground. “Are you heading somewhere? Could I walk with you?”
