It’s hard to stay mad after that. I take the jersey from Clark and fall in at the back of the group.
“So where are we supposed to go now?” Jackson asks.
“They said we can walk around for a bit,” Clark replies. “Then we head down by the middle of the first period to the door we came through to get in the building.”
The arena halls aren’t too packed yet.
“Snacks?” Stack asks, rubbing his hands togetheras we pass the ice cream stand and fast-food counters.
I already ate at the restaurant, which is good because it saves money.
Great. I’m officially turning into my penny-pinching dad.
The guys stop for food, and I wander toward the team store in the middle of the concourse. I want to see what kind of merch they sell, but the large number of people in there makes me decide to stay outside.
Turning, I see the main reporting desk, where a few people are holding microphones and talking into a camera.
I stop short.
Is that…Laney?
I take a few steps closer and realize it is. Her hair is down and curled, brushing just below her shoulders. With makeup and different clothes, it took me a second to recognize her. She was cute last night at the diner, and sharp as far as the planning went.
I’m not dating. I’m not even in the market for it, but I feel a slight attraction there. Maybe it’s because she was terrified of the shadows at her apartment.
Girls want stability. I’m more of a Peter Pan.
Could anyone really handle me and my inabilityto focus on one thing at a time? My track record says no.
And yet, I stand here watching her talk animatedly to the camera, confident and completely in her element. She knows exactly what she’s talking about, which honestly surprises me. A lot of women I’ve met pretend to understand sports.
Laney doesn’t pretend.
She didn’t say much last night, or maybe she did, and I missed it, still fixated on the possibility of a dead body in her apartment.
I could see her being a good friend. Nothing more.
Apparently, I’ve been staring too long, because she looks up, blinks in confusion, and then grins at me. The lights turn off, and she waves me over. The camera must be off too, thankfully.
I don’t mind cameras like Clark does, but today I’m already flustered enough.
I walk over and give her a small wave. “Hey, Laney. How’s it going?”
“It’s going well,” she says, smiling. “I slept in relative peace last night, and I might move permanently, so that’s a win.”
With a fake frown, I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve heard that neighborhood isn’t the safest. There’s a house close by that’s like a frat house. I’d check again.”
She laughs and says, “Well, at least I won’t have to wonder what died every day.”
“Is this what you do for work?” I ask, knowing it makes me sound clueless.
“Yep. I joined the team just over two weeks ago.”
“That’s right. You said you were in Seattle before that.”
She nods. “I covered a few different teams, but nothing steady. This has been nice. More hockey, some basketball.”
I nod, a little awe settling in my chest. “That’s really cool. What made you go into sportscasting?”
