Page 16 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 4
Vivian
Racing up the stairs as if excitement or the devil is chasing me—they’re both the same thing in this case—I rush inside my apartment and wish to the heavens I could tell someone. Anyone. About the mind-blowing, universe-shattering kiss I just experienced. With my dream man, Finnegan Reed. Oh. My. God. My heart starts palpitating all over again as I circle the small studio apartment.
Going to bed is the last thing on my mind as I pick up one of my kittens, needing to share my affection and excitement with someone—even a kitten. When I really want to be stroking . . .
Stop it. Don’t even go there.
I may not be a virgin, but my experience is limited and the idea of touching him, any part of him, is scary as much as exciting. The kind of mind-blowing that makes me worry about having a stroke. I need to calm down.
Before I have a chance to figure out how to do that, my phone rings and I leap for it, irrationally yet automatically thinking it could be Finn calling.
“Hello.” I’m breathless and pathetic in my eagerness, not even checking to see who’s on the other end of the call.
“Vivian?” It’s my best friend from BC and my former roommate, Grace Lombardi. All her friends call her Lombo. I think it’s an unfortunate nickname, so I never use it. “Guess I don’t have to ask how your night was. You sound positively shameful. What did you do tonight that has you so excited?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say because it’s true. Then I realize I need to tell hersomethingbecause in one week I’m going to be dating Finn and the next one I’ll be engaged to him and it’s going to be quite a shocker. Quite possibly an unbelievable, check-me-into-Bedlam shocker.
“It just so happens I’m in the neighborhood because I went to the game tonight and the rest of the crowd went back to campus, but I wanted to stop in and see you. I’m in an Uber on my way over. Fuck, you’re close to the Garden. Like right on top of it.”
“You’re here?” My voice squeaks because, what the poop? Wejustmissed her.
“Yeah—hope you don’t mind the impromptu drop-in, but I figured you aren’t usually up to anything, so—”
“Sure, come on up.” And because I really do want her company I make myself get over the close call, though I’ll have to talk to her about boundaries and privacy. Right after I tell her I’m dating Finn. I hope she doesn’t faint. I really hope she doesn’t think I’m joking or, worse, delusional.
Opening the door because I hear her footsteps on the stairs, she stops short in the cramped hall and puts her hands to her face.
“Oh. My. God. What the fuck, Vivian?”
I pull her inside the apartment because I don’t want the neighbors to hear everything. So far they think I’m a nice girl—because I am. But Grace has a real potty mouth and a very loud one at that. As I shut the door, she spins around in the center of the small room, barely skirting the coffee table and sofa.
“What the hell happened to you—excuse the language, but you’ve managed to shock me—youareVivian Frost, right? You’re not an alien?”
“Come on. I don’t look that different. I’m finally wearing my contacts is all.” It took me hours of practice for the past two days, but I can finally get them in and out in under thirty seconds without damaging my cornea.
“You’ve only been living here a week and wow. Look at you. What the hell happened?”
She knows me, knows I don’t dress this way or wear makeup like this, subtle and perfect.
“I’m working in a professional office.” Only a half lie. “I needed to upgrade.” She still looks skeptical, so I throw in some truth. “My boss hinted that I needed a makeover.” If byhintI meanforcibly insisted.
“Yeah?” She circles around me. “Your boss is an ass. But you do look fantastic. She help you?”
I nod. It’s good to tell the truth where I can. “Gave me a bonus to help with the wardrobe upgrade. As part of my job I’ll need to attend some events. Benefit galas . . .” I trail off, running out of truths to share.
“Unbelievable. You’ve landed yourself a motherfucking dream job. I bet you’ll be hobnobbing with all sorts of interesting people—and some hunky professional athletes too.” She laughs at her joke. She’s a fan, but a snobby, resentful fan since she has no hope of ever realizing her dream of dating a hunky guy, let alone a professional athlete. Or so she thinks.
“I haven’t told you the best part yet.” My heart rate skyrockets and my entire body heats up so I’m sure I look like one giant blushing beet. “How about if I get us a glass of wine?” I need it more than she does, so I go to my kitchenette with my small refrigerator topped by a microwave and a cheap wine rack containing not too cheap wine. I pull out a bottle of red and pour us two glasses while Grace sits down.
“I can’t wait to hear this.”
Handing her a glass, I clear my throat as the words leap from my mouth in a rush.
“I met Finnegan Reed at the local coffee shop and we’re dating now.”
My timing is perfect—if I am going for worst possible moment ever. Grace simultaneously spits a mouthful of wine and spills the rest of it on the table where she drops her glass. Luckily the glass doesn’t break because it’s one of those sturdy noncrystal glasses I took from the recesses of my parents’ cabinets, ones that my brothers probably stole from a bar along the way because I can still see the faded logo of a black rose.
