He held my gaze for another moment, then nodded and stood, grabbing his bag. “Get some rest, Cap. You’ve got tacos tomorrow, right? With that barback from the place we went to?”
I froze. “How do you know about that?”
“You mentioned it yesterday when you were texting at practice and Coach almost benched you for not paying attention.” Tyler grinned. “Have fun. He seems like a good dude.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the empty locker room with nothing but the hum of the ventilation system and the echo of his words.
Chapter 13
Jacks
The Lightning flag wouldn’t stay up. I’d been fighting with the darn thing for ten minutes, trying to get it to hang straight above the main bar. Every time I thought I had it, one corner would droop, or the whole thing would slide sideways, or it would give up and flutter to the floor like a defeated bird.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Benji called from across the room where he was arranging bottles with the precision of a White House butler prepping a state dinner.
“Thanks for the help.”
“I’m providing moral support. That’s a kind of help.”
“It’s really not.”
“It’s the best kind of help. It’s help without effort. I’m very efficient that way.”
I gave the flag one more aggressive tug and finallygot it to cooperate. It hung at a slight angle, but at this point, I was willing to call that close enough. We had two hours until doors opened, and there was still a mountain of prep work to tackle before the Saturday night crowd descended.
Game nights at Barbacks were their own special chaos. The Lightning had a home game against Boston at seven, which meant we’d be packed from pre-game analysis until well after final buzzer. Finn had scheduled extra staff, a few part-timers who worked more nights than not. He’d also ordered extra kegs and given us all the usual pre-game pep talk about staying hydrated and not murdering difficult customers.
“So,” Benji said, abandoning his bottles to drift closer. “I hear you have a date tomorrow.”
I nearly fell off the step stool. “It’s not a date. How do you even know about it?”
“Mia texted me.”
“Mia doesn’t have your number.”
“Mia haseveryone’snumber. She’s like the CIA, but shorter and with better hair.” Benji grinned up at me. “Tacos in Seminole Heights. Very romantic for a pair of Neanderthals in sports gear.”
“We’re not . . . It’s lunch between friends.”
“Friends who text each other constantly and stare at each other with longing across crowded bars.”
“Nobody is staring with longing.”
“Honey, I have eyes. You stare. Gape, actually. It’s dramatic. Very Telenovela.”
I climbed down from the stool and busied myself with straightening chairs that didn’t need straightening. “You’re making something out of nothing. Skyler’s straight. He went through a breakup and needed someone to talk to. End of story.”
“The story where a famous hockey player drives across town to your place of work, asks for you by name, spends two hours in a booth with you, and then invites you to a private lunch date the next day?”
“Friend date.”
“You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
“Did youPrincess Brideme?”
“It seemed appropriate given the circumstances.” Benji hopped onto a bar stool and crossed his legs, settling in like he was preparing for a long interrogation. “Look, I’m not saying anything’s happening. All I’m saying is that the vibes are vibey.”
“The vibes are not vibey. There are no vibes.”
