Page 6 of Rinkmates

“The apartment is near Chelsea Piers. It’s just a five-minute walk and we’ve got some free tickets to spare from the team, so you can practice as much as you want! That’s the perk of working for a hockey player.” She winks at me.

I remind myself I’m human and need to breathe. This just seems too good to be true. An apartment with an actual roof and…a rink? “Which team do you work for?”

She looks at me as if I should know this. “Um, the Falcons?”

Damn. I suppose I should have remembered, but with my hectic work schedule, things tend to slip my mind. Plus, I have a bad habit of quickly scanning through messages without fully absorbing the information. I guess that happens to your brain when you work three jobs. “Oh, my bad. I think I mixed something up from our messages.”

“It’s okay. Not everyone is into hockey or knows all the players.”

My face splits into a wide grin as I realize she works for one of the most famous hockey teams in the damn league. Like, seriously?

It’s then I notice posters of their star players plastered all over the train. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and focus on one player in particular. The one with chin-length black hair and the fucking perfect, toothpaste smile. I know him from somewhere. I guess he came up on my For You Page a few times, punching around like a little kid who didn’t get his candy. He’s flanked by two other handsome players. Buzz Cut andMaroon Man Bun. They’re all probably just as cocky and douchey as they look. I mean, have you ever met a humble hockey player?

Nina nervously fidgets with her fingers, her voice quivering as she asks, “You…you don’t like hockey?”

“Not really. I mean, I used to watch some games back in the day, but men who trash bars on a regular basis aren’t exactly my type.” No thank you.

Her lips twist into a grimace, but she regains her composure in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, let’s see if we can make this work then,” she says.

I mentally kick myself for my thoughtless comment about her favorite sport. Shit. She’s going to be my roommate. I should be nice. What is wrong with me? It’s clear I have lost touch with polite interactions after years of dealing with my trailer park boys and cranky customers while working bars and restaurants. I make a mental note to work on my social skills.

“Sorry,” I add quickly. “My last experience wasn’t the best. You know, sharing the rink and all.” I let out an uncomfortable chuckle, and she responds with a similar awkward smile.

The train jolts and screeches as we sit side by side, avoiding the topic of skating or hockey entirely. On the way to her apartment, we talk about our favorite food and we actually have something in common. We both love sushi, so that’s something, right? I think rooming with her could work. Food connects after all.

Eventually, Nina leads me to a luxurious complex I immediately try to pass by. But she stops me with a pointed cough and gestures excitedly to the building.

I’m not sure what she expects from me, especially since she knows I don’t have much time for sightseeing. I need to be ready in an hour.

“This is it!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. “Home sweet home!”

My heart does a nervous pirouette. What the actual— “This is…the…apartment?”

Nina nods, smiling brightly.

I take another look, and my eyes keep going up. The building basically looms over me, all sleek and modern, with massive floor-to-ceiling windows showing off nothing but wealth. My internal warning sirens blare again.

“Um, I don’t think I fit in here.” I pull the white cardigan over my blue leggings, suddenly feeling all too self-aware. It looks perfect, too perfect for someone like me with a budget stretched thinner than ice in spring.

“No, it’s okay. Believe me.” Nina takes me by the arm, nudging me to the entrance.

I stumble after her, as if she’s going to throw me in a beehive. But she can’t be serious. She told me she’d have a wonderful, totally affordable apartment for me. Apparently less than seven hundred dollars per month. I should have known this was gonna be a scam. This isn’t a cheap-ass apartment, it’s the kind with a fancy doorman and gleaming golden initials above the entrance.

I stop in my tracks.

“Nina,” I protest. “These apartments must cost a fortune…I can’t afford to live here.” My heart sinks at the thought of having to search for something else. I thought I was all set. Sure, I’ve got three other places lined up because I’m not dumb enough to come here without backup plans B, C, and D, but I was really hoping—praying, even—that this would be the one. Just for once, I wanted to turn those thousands of lemons into lemonade.

She comes to a halt in front of the revolving door. “Liora, it’s fine. Money isn’t an issue at all. Trust me. Just check it out, and if it really isn’t for you, I’ll let you go, okay?”

I blink at her. And blink again. My gut says don’t trust her. It actually screams at me to run. How could I trust her? An apartment in this area? For me? No way.

“It will befine,” she repeats, dragging out thefine. “Look, we even have a doorman here, he’d never say yes to trouble, right, Attie? We’re all nice people here.”

She beams at the red-haired porter. His face lights up like a Christmas tree covered in freckles. The blazing sun seems to have a vendetta against him, turning his ginger locks into a beacon of light and giving him the complexion of a tomato. But I guess he couldn’t care less, because he’s flashing a grin that makes my alarm bells snooze away a little. “I ensure that only decent individuals are allowed inside this place. Anyone who shouldn’t be here won’t get past me. I promise, Miss.”

“Perfect, thank you, Attie. This is Liora James, by the way. She’s joining us. Maybe.”

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