Page 25 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“Don’t ask. He has oodles of money and oodles of friends with money. Brawlers management said the jig is up. We make our play now or never.”
“Of course. Finn would be devastated to be traded now, not when the team’s playing so well.”
“Sure. Not to mention the team would be minus one hot goalie—I mean that in the hockey sense of hot, not the other sense.”
Heat rises up my skin and I hope she doesn’t notice the blush, but I raise my menu to hide it in case.
“I saw the blush,” she says.
Oh. My. God. If she wasn’t my boss… I don’t know. Lowering the menu, I’m faced with her smirk.
“How are things going between you and Finn? Is he treating you with respect?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Are you keeping him at arm’s length—emotionally speaking?”
“Of course.” My voice squeaks, mortifying me. She nods knowingly.
“We’re visiting the veterans’ shelter together on Sunday,” I tell her.
“I know.”
I consider claiming I’m too sick to eat, but the waiter shows up then and we order. Thankfully we get around to talking about the website content and official team business having nothing to do with Finn. She promises to send a photographer to the veterans’ shelter. I’m not so sure Finn will appreciate it, but it’s good publicity and I want to see him get credit.
As I reach the corner after leaving the restaurant, Finn ambushes me. Lucky for my overworked heart, I see him waiting, leaning against the building, hair blowing in the breeze, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Gorgeous. Especially when he sees me and his smile pops.
“Mind if I walk you home?”
“It’s a free country,” I say, then I immediately feel like a seventh grader. An ungrateful seventh grader.
“About your text—I wanted to return it, but getting into a texting habit with you . . . doesn’t seem right. I wanted to respect the boundaries of our non-relationship.”
“I don’t have a problem with boundaries. But that’s for when we see each other in person. You didn’t feel comfortable getting into a texting habit with me, you should have just said so instead of ignoring me. That’s just—”
“Rude,” he says. “And you’re right. I should be honest. The truth is I find you irresistible and I can’t explain why. But I’m also being honest with you, Vivvie, when I tell you I’m hot for you. Watch out for me.”
It’s the same thing Mary has told me all along, but it hurts when Finn says it. Sounds dismissive, like I’m not sophisticated enough. Or whatever he’s looking for.
Or maybe the problem is he’s not looking for anyone, Vivvie. You knew that.
“Point taken,” I say. I’ll see you after the game. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. We’re now officially pretend engaged. Mary is sending a press release this afternoon announcing our engagement.”
“What the fuck?”
I can’t blame him. It’s what I would have said if I were someone who swears.
“We knew it was coming.”
He gives me a blank look, the one I hate, the one that pushes me away, that hides something . . . bad.
“Why don’t you come inside?” I say.
He holds up his bag. “I was supposed to bring this takeout back home an hour ago. I turned off my phone after three messages while I was waiting for you to finish your lunch.”
“You waited for me.” Realizing he’d waited in the street for me, going seriously out of his way to see me, to make things right—whatever that means in the context of a fake relationship—softens me. It’s the last thing I should be, but getting hurt or angry doesn’t work either.
There’s only one way to handle this, and it’s to be honest—with myself as well as with Finn. And also to lower my expectations, manage them better. I should expect to be kissed, I should expect that he’ll be attracted to me, but I should not expect him to want a real relationship.
