Page 22 of The Game She Hates

My heart races. Why didn’t I think of this? “Are you serious? Would you come with me? I really need you to make sure I don’t get attached to him,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress any words that might reveal my growing attraction to him.

“Girl, yeah! I have so many questions about this season. I’d love to come. Just make sure you ask him first. Despite him being in your face all the time, he is a celebrity and needs privacy.”

She’s right. I really don’t see Zane as a celebrity. He’s not exactly subtle for someone supposedly famous. I mean, stalking someone like me in a coffee shop?

He also doesn’t know how to blend in. If it wasn’t for my advice, he’d probably show up next time wearing neon colors. That thought makes me smile. I’m glad Robyn’s looking down at her phone.

“I’ll ask him.”

“You have his number too?” she asks, surprised.

“No, he took mine to coordinate,” I say, swatting her for looking at me suspiciously.

“You are living so many girls’ dreams and you don’t even know it.”

“Robs, is this your dream? Do you want to date Zane?” I know Robyn doesn’t date, but what if all this is rubbing in her face something she’d want for herself? I’d hate for it to be the case, and I’d do anything to cut off Zane for this reason.

“Relax. I don’t date, and I absolutely would not date someone I’m a huge fan of. So trust me, I’m only saying that because I am on social media and I see how girls rave about Zane Ortiz.”

I sigh in relief, unsure if it’s because I’m glad I don’t have to cut off Zane immediately—though I know I’ll still need to if I want to avoid another disappointment or, worse, getting hurt.

17

Zane Ortiz

“I can’t believe you thought P was a fan,” Robyn says, laughing and sipping on her mocktail.

This lunch turned out to be more enjoyable than I expected. When Pearl mentioned that her roommate would join us, I welcomed Robyn’s company without any hesitation. I wasn’t about to risk anything that might distance me from Sweet P.

From the moment I laid my eyes on her, I felt an inexplicable pull, as if she belonged in my life. I am open to endure whatever antics or obstacles as long as it means getting to know her.

Except Robyn is an absolute joy to be around. She’s a hardcore Glaciers fan and really into hockey. Despite not playing it herself, she possesses incredible insights and noteworthy strategies for our team. Robyn has attended all our local games and can recite each recent match with impressive detail. She knows every player’s strengths and weaknesses and discusses game tactics like a seasoned coach. It’s clear that she’s studied each player carefully, and that’s the kind of fan I’d love to hang out with—someone who genuinely appreciates everything about the game.

I’m conscious of not getting too caught up. I don’t want Pearl to feel left out. It almost feels as though Pearl brought Robyn along to divert my attention, but it would take more than a hockey enthusiast to draw my gaze away from her.

They are both sitting across from me at La Basilique, a charming French restaurant I originally booked when it was just meant to be Pearl and me. Soft, ambient lighting bathes the space in a warm, inviting glow, while smooth jazz melodies fill the air.

Although my seat doesn’t offer a view outside, I can’t complain too much about the sight in front of me. Pearl looks stunning in a mustard maxi dress with thin straps, her hair styled in an elegant updo.

She must be one of those people who always dress in their Sunday best. I love that her style is never flashy, but always elegant and classy in her own way.

“I just don’t get how someone can hate hockey,” I say, pulling Pearl into the conversation.

“Hate may be a strong word. I just don’t care for the game,” she replies.

“You have no basis to say that when you haven’t even come to a game,” I tease, raising an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t even know what’s going on.” She gives me her adorable shy smile.

What a beauty!

“She’s never even watched a game on TV. I’m telling you, she can’t stand hockey. I think it’s the fights,” Robyn interjects.

Pearl looks a bit embarrassed. I hope I didn’t make her feel less for not being interested in my favorite sport. I know it’s not for everyone, even though this little town makes it seem like it is.

I decide to change the subject. “So, what do you like to do for fun? How do you relax?”

“I like to read,” Pearl responds, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Clearly, she doesn’t need to share my passion for hockey. She has her own thing.

---