Page 28 of Playing Dirty
I've always thrived on the noise and the weight of it. Whenever people asked if the nerves ever got to me before a puck drop, the very idea felt foreign. This rink is where I've always felt most steady, most in control, with no room in my head for anything else. But lately, the pressure has started to find the cracks.
The upcoming playoffs have to go well.
I glance across the room at our goalie, Sam, who has been flat on his back staring at the ceiling for the last twenty minutes like he's communing with a higher power. To be fair, we're facing Vegas tonight, and with the standings locked, odds are we draw them again in round one next week. Whatever happens tonight, they'll be looking to send a message.
My phone buzzes on the bench and I glance down at the screen. It's a message from Carol, my main point of contact at Solstice Estates.
Carol:You might not see this before the game, but I just wanted to wish you the best of luck! We're all here in our seats cheering you on and couldn't be more excited to be part of this partnership with you. Cheers.
There's a photo attached of the whole crew. Carol, her wife Elaine, a few marketing faces I recognize from the launch, and Margot.
My heart does a stupid kick against my ribs at the sight of her.
I knew the Solstice crew was planning an appearance tonight, especially since the first billboards with my face onthem went up this morning to decent reviews. It's a standard PR move, showing support for the brand ambassador on the big screen.
I'd spent the last hour half-expecting Margot to find a convenient excuse not to show, but she’s actually here. It's a bit of a shock, honestly, and a welcome one. Instead of getting in my head, knowing she's out there in the crowd is acting like a fucking anchor.
A shadow falls over my stall, and I look up to find Jonesy looming behind me, blond hair a mess, reading my screen with zero shame.
"That your girlfriend?" he grins.
"No." I roll my eyes. "And you need a hobby that isn't reading my private messages."
"I consider being nosy a primary love language." He drops onto the bench next to mine.
"What in God's name is a love language?"
He stares at me, mouth hanging open. "The depth of your cultural ignorance is unbelievable sometimes. You spend half your life on dates. How has this concept completely escaped you?"
I snort at the offense in his voice. "Well, my dates, if you want to call them that, usually involve significantly more physical exertion and considerably less talking."
"My god, you're a proper son of a bitch." He rolls his eyes. "And I'd wager anything your love language is physical touch. Women hate that on a guy, by the way, because it's usually just code for wanting to get laid."
I shake my head. "I haven't a clue what you're on about."
"Whatever you say, star boy." He nudges my shoulder. "But I'm guessing she's the reason for that lovesick look you've been sporting lately. Did I really see you—the man who usually chases anything with a heartbeat—shut down not one, buttwogirls at the mixer last night?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "Your level of surveillance is getting a touch unsettling, Jonesy."
"I have to be a private investigator just to get a word out of you. It's that Irish stoicism—all buttoned-up and secret. You play the charming extrovert for the cameras, but there's a vault under there with a triple-lock." He jabs a blunt finger toward my sternum.
I can't help but grin. "That's a remarkably lazy stereotype you're leaning on, don't you think?"
"Look me in the eyes and swear there isn't a grain of truth in it." He arches a skeptical eyebrow.
"No comment," I chuckle, giving my head a slow shake.
"I rest my case. So you did, then? Sent them both packing?"
I shrug and go back to my laces. "I don't need the distraction right now, alright? Playoffs start Wednesday. You want me focused, don't you?"
"Personally, I think you'd be a hell of a lot more focused if you actually dealt with this instead of wallowing in some romantic purgatory."
I shoot him a look. "Shouldn't you be finishing that podcast?"
He shrugs. "I timed it wrong and it wrapped up ten minutes ago, so now you're the main attraction. Plus, my lucky rituals are sorted. I'm feeling untouchable tonight."
"Oh? Even the weirdness with the left sock?"
