I make my drink, finding a piece of paper and pen and the nightstand, and sit at the small table by the window.You know what? A drink by my side and a gorgeous view of downtown Dallas lit up across the night sky. This isn’t half bad.Writing down a few things, I fold the piece of paper and push it under the door between our rooms.
I walk back to bed and, for some ridiculous reason, I’m…I’m smiling?What the hell?I donotsmile by myself in a hotel room.It must be the alcohol hitting my stomach. My gaze shifts between my bed, the door to his room, and my phone.
Apparently, Jordan Boucher is taking this fake dating thing pretty damn seriously. I think I just got my second wind to watch that video again.
23
jordan
“The car service will be outside the hotel at seven, and I won’t tip off the press until you’re already at the restaurant, so you can hopefully at least enjoy dinner without being harassed. Oh! And the reservation is under your name, not one of your aliases,” Hannah says over the phone.
“Dammit, Hannah. I was really hoping to show up as Glen Coco tonight.”
She chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next date.”
I catch myself in the mirror grinning like a fucking idiot at the thought of another date. But it fades as quickly as it came, my stomach clenching at the thought of me royally screwing this up. “Hannah Banana…do you think she’ll even go on another date with me?”
“I think she will,” she answers, her voice warm and confident. Something loosens in my chest at the way Hannah and all my family believe in me. It makes me think maybe…MaybeI can actually do this. “When I flew to meet her in Columbus, she wasn’t nearly as overwhelmed as you thought. She just needs to see the other side of you. Therealyou. Show her that.”
“The real me issoamazing, right?” I joke, trying to calm myself down.
“I wouldn’t gothatfar,” she quips. “But in all seriousness, just be yourself. You’re amazing, JJ. Let her see that. Just don’t let my compliment go to your head.”
“Too late,” I tease, the fluttering feeling in my gut overwhelming. “Thanks for setting all this up and for flying to see her the other day. Let’s just hope this works. For the media.”
“Right. Just for the media. Nothing else other than a date,” she snarks with a wink.
“Fake date.”
“It’s not fake to you.”Well, if that isn’t the fucking truth.“Hang in there, JJ. You’ll do great. Text if you need me.”
I set my phone down and pick up the tiny note I’ve held onto all night long.
J –
Thanks for the gin. The fresh limes were a nice touch.
– K
I’ve read the note a thousand times. Memorized it. Eleven words, two letters, and two dashes—the dashes seem important for some reason. She could have used a comma, but I feel like this was an intentional choice.Seems more…personal.I’ve traced every inch, feeling the ridges where the pen indented the paper and marveling at the way she wrote a cursive letter ‘J’ like my grandma used to in all my birthday cards. I set it down, afraid it will disintegrate if I touch it anymore. But as simple as it is—just like her—I want to hold onto it forever.
I sit on the edge of my bed, my hands shaking and sweating like I just finished a game that went into double OT.Get it together, Jordan. It’s just a date. Afakeone.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, then slowly exhale out my mouth, just like they taught in the yoga class I take to improve my flexibility. It also helps keep me calm off the ice, especially in situations like tonight. Plus, I’m a sucker for anything that includes built-in nap time.
I wipe my palms on my pants one last time before putting on a spray of my cologne.Onespray. Some of my teammates, specifically EJ, drench themselves in this shit, and we all have to suffer when we get on the bus. You can fucking taste it. My mouth, on the other hand, is so fucking dry I can barely swallow.Goddammit, Jordan, calm down! You are one of the most popular players in the NHL. You can do this.
If only I had a pre-game routine for a date.Should I do my pre-game routine?Dammit, I don’t have time. If only I’d been on a date with anyone outside of the one person who ruined my life. The one selfish motherfucker who got me into this life of secrets. The one person I would pay to poke skewers through her eyes. I ball one hand into a fist, pounding it into the other at the slightest thought of that time in my life.Fuck.I take another deep breath, slowly letting the air back out to calm my heart rate.
Don’t go there tonight, Jordan.
I can only look ahead and focus on the task at hand. The simple task I’m scared to death of. It’s just a door in front of you, one you’ve literally knocked on before. This time is no different.Except for the fact that the woman you’ve been pining over for months is on the other side.The piece of wood seems so thin, but it represents the giant roadblock between us. But the door she once slammed shut in my face has cracked open the tiniest bit. She talks to me now. And every tap of my knuckles carries the weight of what I stand to lose.
Last time, we weren’t officially fake dating.
Last time, she wasn’t obligated to hold my hand.
Last time, I wasn’t about to take her on a date.
