“Havingfunisn’t the problem between us, Bennett.”
He lifts a brow. “Then what is it? I’m hot, single, and exactly your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
I think that’s actually a lie. A small, tiny fib. I think my type might be older. Broody. A man who makes me question if he’s dangerous in the mysterious, hot kind of way, or in the “I need to run away because he might kidnap me” kind of way.
That realization makes my stomach dip. Whoops.
“Sure you do.” Bennett chuckles. “Me. I’m everyone’s type.”
Once again, I roll my eyes and then reach forward, shoving him back lightly. “You’re ridiculous. I have no type, and I’m not looking to date anyone. Contrary to what your ego forces you to believe, I’m not here to see you. I’m actually looking for Coach Taylor.”
My gaze flicks out onto the ice, then to the players’ box and around the rink in search of him.
“Whatcha need Coach for?”
I look back at him. “We have a meeting at ten. Saint talked with him about the team partnering with the Lagniappe Literacy Initiative for their philanthropic work this year, and Mrs. Boudreaux wants me to be the lead and the team’s liaison for the program.”
“Hell yeah, Mais. That’s awesome.”
“Thanks,” I say, raking my teeth over my lip to hide the shy smile. “I’m really excited. It feels like a good opportunity, ya know? Exactly the kind of work I want to do.”
Bennett nods. “For sure. Coach is around here somewhere. Been kind of a shit show with the new assistant coach starting this season though.” He slips his helmet back on his head before putting his mouth guard in next.
“Oh yeah, Lennon mentioned something about that the other day.”
“Found him,” he says, nodding behind me, his gaze following the same path. I turn, finally finding the man I came here to see. “Good luck, Mais. And you know you can come watch me play anytime.” With a cocky smirk and a flirty wink, Bennett turns and skates back toward his team.
“Bye!” I call out, but he’s already halfway across the ice.
I reach into my lavender striped backpack and pull out the folder of information I brought with me today as I cross the rinkto Coach Taylor. The sooner I can get this meeting over with, the sooner I can get out of the cold and start to thaw.
Orleans University’s head hockey coach, at least from what I’ve heard both Saint and Bennett say about him, is a damn good coach. They say he’s fair, and tough in all of the places he needs to be.
I just hope that means he’s going to be easy to work with because this program and this year’s project with the team are something that means an incredible amount to me. There’s nothing I’m more passionate about than reading. I’m majoring in information sciences for undergrad, and then I’ll return for a few more years to get my master’s to become a librarian.
Most kids wanted to be superheroes or celebrities growing up. They wanted to be exciting things like doctors, astronauts, or scientists.
Not me. I never wanted to do anything other than work in a library, surrounded by books, lost in stories that feel like home.
The older I got, the more I realized that I didn’t want tojustbe surrounded by books though. I wanted to bring the magic of reading to others. So, now I want to be an elementary school librarian. To make sure other kids cultivate the same love and respect for literature that I have.
I distinctly remember the moment I first stepped into the library when I was in kindergarten. Or maybe my parents had brought me before then, but it’s the first time I can actually recall being there. I was in awe at the sheer amount of books in the space, the smells, the feel of the worn paper pages between my fingers.
When I got my first library card, I was so proud and excited to discover what new stories I could find. Worlds I could lose myself in.
Obviously,Matildawas my favorite book as a child because I truly believed I was the blonde version of her. Minus the magic.
Working with OU’s literacy program is personal to me, something close to my heart. It feels like the most important thing that I’ve ever done.
I want kids of all ages, backgrounds, and circumstances to have access to stories that will encourage their imagination. Grow their minds. Give them a place to dream in.
My little brothers say I always sound like an information pamphlet when I get started talking about it, but that’s what happens when you feel so passionate about something.
“Coach Taylor?” I say after I make my way across the room. He’s tall with broad shoulders and a thick frame that makes it clear that even though he’s older and retired from playing professional hockey, he remains an athlete. His stark black hair is peppered with salt throughout, much like the short, kept beard on his face.
Though I’ve been to the rink what feels like hundreds of times now, I’ve only seen him in passing and never really had the need for an introduction until now.
