Page 17 of Hot Shot
Me:I know you’re busy so whichever one works for you. Or if Tuesday doesn’t work we can figure out another day.
Shit. Now I sound like a desperate fuck. I set my phone down.Way to be smooth, Hunter. Before I can go too far down the rabbit hole of how I fucked things up, my phone chimes with a text message.
Madison:I’d love to get coffee with you. What time and where?
I mentally throw my hands up in celebration that she said yes. Now to figure out where to take her.
“I take it she said yes, based on your expression,” Wes says.
“Yeah, she did.” I nod, a huge grin on my face.
“See, nothing to worry about,” Holt says. “Now can we talk about something else besides your love life, Hunter?”
“Where should I take her? What’s good around here?” I swivel my head between the two of them, hoping one has a suggestion.
“There’s a great coffee shop on Fairview Avenue. Sugar Cubes,” Holt suggests. “It’s attached to a bookstore, but it’s been quiet when I’ve been in.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” I text Madison back with the location and a time to meet. I stare at my phone, waiting for a response.
“Maybe she’s busy. Are we going to hang out or talk about your woman problems?” Holt gets to his feet, picking up his empty plate, and walks to the kitchen.
“Fine. Fine. Let’s hang out.” I shove my phone into my pocket, grab my plate, and follow him.
“Let’s play some Xbox,” Wes suggests.
I internally groan. Video games are not my favorite. Holt and Wes always want to playMadden NHL. Just what I want to do on a night off—play more hockey. Not.
“There’s a wild card game on,” Holt suggests with a small nod, silently telling me he knows I’d rather not play video games.
“Who’s playing?” Wes asks.
“Tampa and Cleveland.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, leading the way into the living room. I’m not a huge baseball fan, every sport seems slow after living and breathing hockey for so long, but at least we’re not playing video games.
A few hours later I let myself into my apartment. I left Holt and Wes playing video games, using the excuse that I was tired and wanted to get some extra sleep before morning conditioning.
But really, I needed some peace and quiet after listening to those two bicker about which baseball team was better.
They each decided to root for a different team so there was a lot of yelling. I’m not even sure if either of them really cared who won or if they wanted an excuse to heckle each other.
My phone dings interrupting my thoughts and I see I have a text from Madison.
Madison:Sorry I was busy. That sounds good. I’ll see you Tuesday.
Me:Can’t wait. Have a good night.
Madison:Night Hunter.
There’s a pep in my step as I start getting ready for bed. I’m glad I listened to Wes and Holt and asked Madison out. Although there’s no way in hell that I’d tell the two of them that—I’d never hear the end of it. As I’m crawling into bed, my phone dings with another text. Hoping it’s Madison, I grab it off my nightstand, my mouth falling open when I read the message.
Unknown:Hey Hunter. It’s Elias. Can we talk?
I close my eyes for a second and when I open them I half expect the text to not be there. But it is.
How’d he get my number? Better question is, after fifteen years of radio silence, why is he reaching out to me now? Sighing, I lock my phone and set it back on the nightstand.
That’s a problem for future Hunter.
