Page 8 of Power Play

“You better buy me a nice present!” Alana adds, and I hang up before she can say anything else.

I toss my phone under a spare jersey and grab my helmet.

Lying about a date was beyond stupid, but that’s a problem for later. I have more important things to worry about than who I may or may not be dating, like winning this game.

Hockey is the priority.

It’s always going to be the priority, and a girlfriend—real or imaginary—won’t ever change that.

THREE

PIPER

“I havesomething to tell you all,” I say to my girlfriends once we settle into a booth at Mama Melrose’s on Friday night. “And I could use some advice, because I’m woefully out of my comfort zone by admitting this.”

“What is it?” Emerson—Emmy, as we all call her—rests her elbows on the table and stares at me with wide green eyes. It’s the same look from when we met in high school, and even though we lost touch for a while after graduation, both busy with life and chasing our dreams, it’s still wild to think about how long we’ve been friends. “Is it a sex thing? A fetish? I’ve seen some weird shit, Piper. Your secret is safe with us.”

“No.No. It’s tamer than that, and definitely more embarrassing.” I pause, then let out a soft laugh. “But remind me to ask you about those stories after a few glasses of wine.”

“Hey.” Maven, the Stars’ team photographer, nudges the bottle of Italian chardonnay we ordered out of the way. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to tell us anything. This is a judgment-free zone.”

“Remember when I was teaching Pilates and my pants split in two when I was demonstrating a pike on the Reformer?” Lexi asks, and we all giggle. “Emmy brought me a new pair of leggingsfor my next class, and you two told me it was because I have an ass that won’t quit.”

“Still true,” I say. “This is more personal, though.”

“More personal than showing off my G-string to the shy single dad in the front row?” She sighs. “He never came back, which is such a bummer. He was cute.”

“It’s about my pathetic personal life. Everything seemed so scary after the divorce. Talking to men. Getting to know them. Putting myself out there and letting someone new see the parts of myself I’m still learning to love. So much of my adult life has been spent being part of a couple, and the idea of starting over again was nerve-racking.” I drag a finger along the stem of my glass, building up my courage. “I took a step back to enjoy being single, to do the things I want to do when I want to do them, but lately I’ve been feeling lonely.” I pause to take a sip of my wine. “Really lonely, if we’re being honest. I see you all in love, and it makes me feel like I’m missing out on something important. Like I’m behind. I know I got my heart broken once, but I’d like to believe I can find love again.”

“She’s talking about you all being in love, ladies,” Lexi tells Maven and Emmy. “Not my single ass.”

I laugh and rub my arms, but I’m on edge.

I feel stripped bare telling the girls all of this. They’d never judge me; we’ve shared everything with each other over the course of our friendships, from horrible date stories to shit we’re dealing with at work, but there’s something so raw, sohumanabout sharing the things you’re most afraid of. It’s intimidating to put them out in the universe. To voice your fears and confront them head-on.

“It’s normal to feel lonely,” Maven says gently. “Society tells women we’re supposed to hit these milestones by certain ages, or it’s too late. Like, if we’re not settled down by our twenties,we’ll never find love or have time for children, and that’s bullshit.”

“I love when Mae’sfuck the patriarchyside comes out.” Emmy smiles. “For the record, it is bullshit. Look at me and Maverick. We’re in our thirties. Sure, we’re engaged, but we aren’t married. If this were the 1940s, we’d be shunned.”

“You’re not behind, Piper. You’re taking your time and waiting for the right guy to come along,” Maven adds.

“How do I find the right guy when I can’t even navigate this new world of modern love? Steven and I met my freshman year of college in the dining hall when phones weren’t touchscreen.” I stare at a photo of the Leaning Tower of Pisa hanging on the wall behind Maven’s shoulder and tilt my head to the side. “I didn’t have to go on any websites or list five places I want to travel to before I die in a dating app bio. He ran into me. I dropped my pancakes, and that was it. A love story that was wonderful until it wasn’t, and now I have to learn how to start dating again. I spent five minutes on the apps last year and gave up.”

“If you want to try them again, I’ll vet the dudes to make sure they’re worthy of your time. There will benounsolicited dick pics,” Lexi says.

“Thanks for fending off all the penises.” I pat her thigh. “But what about sex? That’s what I’m most worried about. Steven and I were barely intimate. The times we were, it wasn’t very good. I mean, I’m assuming it was mediocre at best. I have nothing to base it off of, since he’s the only guy I’ve been with. I didn’t enjoy it very much though, and I don’t thinkI’mvery good. I can’t launch myself back in the dating pool without knowing how to give a good blow job. How much tongue do I use? And what do I do with my hands?”

Our server picks that moment to appear. She sets the breadsticks on our table and looks at the four of us with a weak smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “Are you all ready to order?”

“Could you give us a few more minutes?” Maven flips over the menu. “I don’t think we’ve decided.”

“Sure.” The server turns for the kitchen. Judging by her red cheeks, I’m afraid she’s never coming back. “Take your time.”

“Great.” I groan. “I probably traumatized her. She didn’t clock in thinking the people ordering thirty-dollar pasta dishes would be talking about blow jobs.”

“Speaking of blow jobs: have you thought about a sex coach?” Lexi asks.

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