Page 37 of See You at the Finish Line

It doesn’t work, though—every song on my playlist reminds me of her in some way. I skip track after track.

Is there anything on here that isn’t about love? It’s no use. I give up entirely and answer Taylor’s question. Am I ready for it?

No, I am not.

It was even worsethan I could have imagined. I was expecting Paige to give me the cold shoulder at best, maybe yell and cuss me out at worst. Though I knew that wasn’t probable since she wants to keep her job.

Instead, she was normal. She made the same kind of small talk with me as she did with everyone. She laughed and was friendly. I tried to decipher whether her laughs and smiles felt forced, but they seemed genuine.

She didn’t ignore me, she was just ... there. I was like everyone else to her. I didn’t think that would be worse, but it was. Was I hoping she would be bothered?

It started the next morning. We arrived at the arena at the same time, and she greeted me in the parking lot with a smile. My heart leapt. Maybe without all the people around she would try to talk to me. Maybe even yell at me.

I should be concerned that the thought made my cock twitch. At least yelling at me would mean she cared that I pretended to forget her. But that’s not what happened.

“Good morning, Adam,” she said, cheerful even as rain drizzled on her umbrella.

“M-morning,” I stuttered.

She was wearing the same thing as the day before, only with a blue Whales jacket like all of us instead of her black one. And those leggings. Fuck me, her ass is amazing. I am not too proud to admit that I checked her out as I held the door open for her.

She beamed at me. “Thanks, Adam,” she said pleasantly.

“You’re welcome,” I replied a little too late. I watched her walk down the hallway and greet three other people the same way.

Maybe I should have gone to the mixer. I could have talked to her outside of work. Maybe I would have made it worse. Drinks with Grace was a disaster. I tried to give her my full attention, I really did. But I couldn’t and had to be honest with her.

I told her about Paige and how she showed up literally the day after I convinced myself I was finally ready to let her go. Grace seemed sympathetic and gave me some good advice. She told me to grow some ovaries and talk to Paige.

Good advice that, as a grown ass man, I should’ve taken to heart. Instead, I cowered behind my sensitive balls and pretended everything was fine, ignoring the awkward situation and trying to move on like nothing happened.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and we’ve settled in with the recruits. We’ve been down a few positions, so the therapists we had were working overtime before they hired three new people.

They’re currently drawing names from a helmet to see who the new recruits get to work on next—Maxim said it was a fun way to play Russian roulette without dying. I don’t think Maxim has ever been to Russia, and I’m almost positive his accent is an act.

I watch from my little corner as Julien, our goalie, draws a name. He turns towards Paige, flashing the little slip of paper with her name on it. The small smile he levels as he inspects her brings a slight blush to her cheeks.

She hasn’t been here that long but knows that making Julien smile is a big deal. The statue of a man rarely shows any kind of emotion. I’ve worked overtime to become friends with him, drawn to his quiet nature.

Fuck. Julien is the best-looking guy here with his flawless light brown skin, square jawline, and broody dark eyes, not to mention the French-Canadian accent women seem to adore. When I first met him, I’m not going to lie, I was scared shitless of him. Still am. He’s a brick wall on and off the ice. No one can get through to him.

He smiled at her. Ugh, she’s going to have her hands all over him.

I need to pull it together. I should know better than this—to be jealous of her doing her job. I’ve had massages. The touching may not be sexual, but it sure as hell can get a guy excited, even by accident.

We’re not so evolved from cavemen. We get erections in our sleep. When she’s doing her job, she’ll have her hands all over every member of the staff.

She’ll have her hands on me. Unless I opt out. Demitri did say that if anyone was uncomfortable, we could choose to decline, much to the disapproval of Maxim. I’ll probably have to—conflict of interest and all that.

But if I only turn down her massage, would that hurt her chances of surviving the probationary period? I don’t want to mess with her career, no matter how uncomfortable I am.

I am so screwed.

Paige sits beside Julien, and I try not to eavesdrop on their conversation.

I fail.

“Do you have any points of concern in your body you’d like me to be aware of?” Paige asks him.

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