Page 58 of The Game
I’m lost in thought when the receptionist at my building calls my cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. McGregor. I have a Sarah Parker here, who says she has an appointment with you,” he says, and I instantly feel lighter.
In the midst of our bad game, I’ve almost forgotten about our meeting.
“Send her up,” I say, quickly glancing around the apartment before checking the fridge.
Should I put out water?
Wine?
Since this is a business meeting, alcohol probably isn’t appropriate.
I decide on some sparkling water and bring it into the living room.
Just as I straighten up, the elevator doors open, revealing a stunning Sarah. Having the penthouse comes with perks, like a private elevator.
I step forward to greet her, admiring her outfit. She’s wearing washed-out jeans with a tight, white top, paired with sleek brown heels. Her hair is in a ponytail, and her bag hangs across her arm.
“Nice place you got here, captain,” she says as she steps inside the apartment and looks around.
The way she confidently walks around my space, taking in the sleek yet cozy apartment, leaves me watching her.
I don’t bring women here; they shouldn’t know where I live. I learned that the hard way.
Sarah is different in every way. Whenever I get a girl to a hotel suite, they expect me to show them around, following me like a lost puppy.
Sarah, on the other hand, takes charge.
Another reason why I feel like the lost puppy in this relationship, if I can even call it that.
“Thank you. Ready to start our meeting?” I ask her as I sit down on the couch.
She looks a little sceptical, probably wanting to do this with more space between us, but I’m exhausted from the game and in need of some rest.
“Come here, I won’t bite, unless you ask me to,” I tell her with a smile as she walks over to me.
She sits as far back as the couch will allow and brings out her notebook. She opens it to a page labelled “Captain’s strategy.”
“This whole name thing, do you not even let yourself write my name?” I tease her, noticing my nickname at the top of the page.
“Oh, I actually use your name, just not to your face,” she says with her signature smirk as well.
“You talk a lot about me, angel?”
The small intake of breath and the way she pauses briefly make me wonder just how she uses my name. I plan on finding out, but maybe not right now.
First, we have business to attend to.
“We should get started,” I tell her, letting her out of her misery.
As always, Sarah arrived prepared with plenty of ideas for my social media. After some back-and-forth, we agreed I should post more than just hockey content, with her there to capture the moments.
I had to push back, but once she realized I wouldn’t give in, she agreed to help me out sometimes by shooting some “normal” content for my profile. As our conversation shifts from social media to our game, she gives me a reassuring look.
“You’ll bounce back, you just need to figure out what the team needs,” she tells me with sincerity in her eyes.
