Her words sink in, curling low in my gut. This isn’t real. This is fake.How the hell would real hearts ever be involved in this?He may be attractive, but there’s a lot more that I’m looking for in a relationship. We arenotcompatible, and there’s no way in hell he’s in the same place I am.
I shrug, lifting my hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to come out of this with a positive public image. I’m not trying to hurt him. Promise.”
“Good,” she says with an uneasy smile as I walk her to the door. “It was really nice meeting you, Kennedy!”
“You too, Hannah.” I close the door after she flits down the hall like Glinda floating off in a pink bubble.
Grilled Cheesus, I am fucking confused.
I feel like I’m trying to put together a puzzle, but none of the pieces fit together.Jordan has a completely different personality around me.He seems nervous, scared almost. All anyone can talk about is the way he does nice things for people. Add to that the way Hannah gushed about him and his family and how close they are, how she asked me to, in not so many words, not hurt him. I stare out the window as my thoughts spin like an out-of-control ceiling fan about to crash onto a bed some poor sap is sleeping on beneath it.
Why the hell am I starting to think there may be something more to Jordan Boucher? And where the hell is my damn room service?!
21
jordan
After our on-ice celebration, my teammates and I strut down the tunnel with shouts of ‘let’s fucking go’ on the way to the locker room. I hand my gloves to the equipment manager and start to peel off my layers of clothing at my locker stall. As I toss my jersey into a giant blue bin, I glance at the white board in the front of the room, smothering my disappointment.
“Media: 9, 38, 68, 91”
Fuck.
Seeing my number on the media list is no surprise. We won. We clinched the division. I had great hits and played a fantastic game. And they won’t give a damn about any of that. They never do. My heart sinks—as usual, this hasnothingto do with my game.
They swarm Zack first, like wasps buzzing in his ear. He skillfully answers questions about the win and how we clinched the playoffs.
I continue to disrobe, removing my pads and my T-shirt, trying to cool off after the fury of the third period. As I hang everything on the hook, I hear their questions shift to grilling him about what he knows about my new girlfriend. A sour feeling settles in my stomach like a glass of spoiled milk. Asmuch as I don’t mind being the center of attention, I don’t want anyone else to bear the burden of my latest drama. My teammates are used to it, but for fucks sake, wejustclinched a playoff spot—literally minutes ago. I flop in my stall and take my skates off, my fingers tangling in the laces.Can we not fucking talk about the win?
“I’m not here to comment on anything other than the game. We’re excited to clinch this early, and we’re going to keep working toward improving our record to get the best seed possible,” Zack responds like the class act he is. I hear the annoyance in their voices as they thank him for his time, dismissing him as professionally as possible. They are no longer interested in him, not really, eagerly beelining in my direction. Anyone else might be unprepared. But me? I’malwaysready.
I grind my teeth. Welcome to the show, motherfuckers.
“Jordan! Great game. Can you verify the rumors that you’re dating Kennedy Kramer? She’s the team pilot; isn’t that against the rules?”
I smirk.Fuckin’ Gene.This guy is the worst. He thinks he’s the goddamn Willy Wonka of media with his questions.
“Wow, Gene. Thanks for mentioning the game at all in that line of questioning. Yes, I did have a fantastic game, thank you very much. Did you see my diving save in the second? Classic Jordan Boucher move! I’m surprised I don’t have my own special trophy for diving saves at this point, to be honest.”
Gene looks at me with a scowl.You’re welcome, fucker.
“Anyway, how are you doing, Gene? Tell me about your love life,” I ask, flashing him a maniacal smile.
“I’m not here to talk about me; we’re here to talk about you. Are you in a relationship with Kennedy Kramer?” he asks, his voice barely audible over the clicking of cameras.
“I’msoglad you asked about how excited I am to be headed to the playoffs! We’ve fought really hard, battled some incredibly tough teams, and it’s exciting as hell to see all our work pay off.”
A collective groan fans through the sea of reporters. “Enough with the deflection, Boucher. Are you going to answer or not?”
God, this is fun.
“Well, Gene, now that we’ve gotten the hockey out of the way, I can confirm I am in a committed relationship with the most beautiful woman on the planet, Kennedy Kramer.”
An audible gasp echoes from every media member in the room. Then the questions pour in ten at a time.
“How long have you been dating? Is she the one?”
“Are you allowed to date the team pilot? Are you officially off the market?”
