Me: I’ll wave a giant foam finger. Really embarrass you.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Please don’t. Murph would never let me live it down.
Me: Fine. I’ll wave my middle finger.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Funny boy.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Hey, random question—what are you doing tomorrow? Before the game, I mean. We play at 7, but I’m free during the day.
I stared at the message. Read it again. A third time, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Was Skyler Shaw asking me to hang out?
Me: I’m off until my shift at 5. Why?
PuckingSkylerShaw: I was thinking maybe we couldgrab lunch or something. If you’re free. No pressure.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I figured since we’re friends now (officially, per the DM blood pact) we should do friend things. Outside of bars. Like normal people.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Unless that’s weird. Is that weird? It might be weird.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Forget I asked. This is weird.
I was grinning at my phone like an idiot.
Skyler Shaw, NHL captain, guy with millions of followers and endorsement deals, was spiraling about asking me to lunch.
Me: It’s not weird. Lunch sounds good.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Yeah?
Me: Yeah. I know a place. Casual, good food, nobody will bother you.
PuckingSkylerShaw: You had me at “nobody will bother you.” Where?
Me: There’s this taco spot in Seminole Heights. Hole in the wall, best carnitas you’ve ever had. Very low-key.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I’m in. Text me the address?
Me: Will do. Meet at noon?
PuckingSkylerShaw: Perfect. It’s a date.
My heart stuttered.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Not a date date. Obvi. A friend date. A bro hangout. You know what I mean.
Me: I know what youmean.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Cool. Good. Awesome. I’m going to stop talking now before I make this weirder.
Me: Probably wise.
PuckingSkylerShaw: See you tomorrow, Jacks.
Me: See you, Sky. Win for me tonight.
PuckingSkylerShaw:First goal’s for you.
