“She… left before I woke up.”
Russo slaps a hand over his face. “Oh my god.”
Mercer is laughing so hard he nearly drops his water bottle. “Blake,” he says patiently, like he’s explaining something to a child, “this is basic stuff. Basic. If you’re into her, you don’t let her leave without digits. It’s rule number one.”
Barrett shakes his head solemnly. “You deserve to lose her.”
“I didn’t lose her.”
“You absolutely lost her.” Barrett turns to the others. “He lost her.”
Chen finally speaks up from where he’s leaning on his stick. “What are we arguing about?”
Mercer gestures dramatically toward me. “Blake met a girl last night. Spent the whole night with her apparently. And forgot to get any method of contact.”
Chen considers this with the same focus he uses to study opposing shooters. “That seems… inefficient.”
“She said her name was Nora,” I say.
Mercer immediately points at me. “Okay. New plan.”
He turns toward the rest of the team, raising his voice. “Anyone know a Nora?”
A few guys glance up from their gear.
One defenceman near the boards shrugs. “Nope.”
Another calls from across the ice, “There are like… twenty Noras on this campus.”
Russo leans closer to me, dropping his voice. “You ask her last name?”
“No.”
“What she studies?”
“No.”
“Where she lives? What year she is? Anything?”
“No.”
Mercer slaps the bench triumphantly. “Blake’s imaginary dream girl. That’s what we’re dealing with. A ghost. The girlwho got away before he even had her name.”
“She’s not imaginary.”
“Name: Nora,” Mercer says, counting on his fingers with exaggerated precision. “Description: blonde. Approximate height: unspecified. Last seen: fleeing the scene before sunrise, never to be heard from again.”
Barrett snorts. “Sounds like a myth.”
Chen nods thoughtfully. “Like Bigfoot.”
“Exactly like Bigfoot,” Mercer agrees.
I shake my head and stand up, grabbing my stick. “You’re all idiots.”
Mercer calls after me as I step back onto the ice. “Don’t worry, Blake! We’ll start a campus-wide search! Put up flyers! ‘Have you seen this woman? Answers to Nora. Last seen breaking our boy’s heart.”
I don’t turn around. But I’m smiling despite myself as I push off and skate toward center ice. Practice ends. The team filters toward the locker room.
