Page 20 of Crossing the Top Line

“I thought we were sharing fun facts about the coaches in the NHL right now. Like, did you know that Bruce Warren of the Boston Bruins is the tallest coach in the league?” I ask, trying to stop myself from laughing out loud.

“Of course, everyone knows that. But with McQueen, are you worried about his lack of experience hurting this team?” Mark says, words coming out in a rush.

Ah, there it is. I found his angle. I hear Tori suck in a sharp breath from beside me, but I don’t look away, even when Mark turns a triumphant smirk in her direction.

“Honestly, I think it’ll be good for the Mystic to have someone like Coach McQueen at the helm,” I reply mildly, lifting my chin slightly.

Mark blinks rapidly for a moment, either not expecting me to answer or not expecting me to disagree with him.

“He’s from a different generation of player than a lot of the other players-turned-coaches in the league. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks of practices, and a couple of preseason games, but the attitude in the locker room is excited. We’re all really excited to get out there and take what we’ve been learning and put it up against other teams for real,” I say, maybe rambling a little bit, but each word out of my mouth makes Mark go a little paler.

“But do you think that his history with injury could make him reluctant to let the team play a physical game?” Mark pushes, sweat beading on his forehead.

I shrug. “We’re going to play our game, and what works for us. Big hits are fun, but so is scoring goals and staying off IR,” I say with a laugh.

Mark swallows and turns his wide-eyed stare onto Tori. I finally turn to look at her and find her grinning like the cat who got the cream, her phone raised in front of her face.

“We’re done here,” Mark snaps, not even waiting for a response before he storms off, shoving his notepad and recorder into his bag.

Tori and I are silent until the door to the street outside slams behind him, and I watch as she bursts into hysterical giggles. I laugh along with her, though not as raucously.

“Oh, my God, my boss is going to love this,” she wheezes, bending over at the waist and clutching her stomach.

“That’s good, I guess?” I reply, my words lifting in a question through my chuckles.

“I thought Mark was about to have a stroke when you—” Tori breaks off into another storm of giggles, and I watch her, fascinated.

She finally calms down, wiping away tears from her eyes. “Oh man, that was good,” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“May I ask what was so funny?” I question, lifting one eyebrow.

She’s grinning from ear to ear as she looks up at me. “That was the best no-sell I’ve ever seen,” she says at last.

My brow wrinkles a little in confusion. “I’m glad I could help,” I say at last.

She takes a deep breath and looks at her watch. “I was going to offer to buy you lunch for being such a good sport, but now I really owe you one for that interview,” she says, looking up at me through her lashes.

My heart skips a beat before rocketing up into my throat. Eli has been angling to ask her out for a meal all day, and here she is offering it to me. I’m about to answer when the door behind us flies open, and my roommates come pouring out.

“How did it go?” Eli asks, bounding up to me.

When I look back to Tori, all of the light and joy from just a moment ago has vanished, her rosy cheeks now drained of color as she locks eyes with Spencer for a moment before looking back to me.

“Rain check, then. Thanks for this. If you want a rough cut of the edit before it goes live, I can email it to you,” she says, her voice clipped and professional.

I’m too stunned by the rapid shift in her mood to stop her from taking her bag back. Eli is sputtering something, but even he can’t get his words in order before she’s walking away, her ponytail bouncing and swishing with her purposeful stride.

As I look back at Spencer, I try to find some sort of explanation on his face. But I only manage to catch the edge of a sad frown and hurt in his eyes before he locks his expression down under a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eli meets my gaze, his confusion mirroring mine. What the fuck was that between Tori and Spencer?

“Let’s get something to eat,” the man in question says before leading the way out to the parking garage.

I drop the urge to ask him about that weird interaction, but my curiosity will only be suppressed for so long. Thankfully, someone owes me lunch, and I know exactly what sort of conversation I want to have.

I’mputtingthefinishingtouches on Elijah’s mic’d up video, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Once I cut out all the flirting, I was surprised to find enough footage for at least two videos. I opted out of getting content from practice today, letting Rachel and Monroe handle that side of things. The office is quiet, the rest of the team out on assignment or working from home. Even Dee isn’t in his little fishbowl, and there’s a peaceful air to the office building. My phone is on silent, but I’m getting social media notifications on my desktop so I can stay up to date.

I send the final cut to Dee for approval before turning to the footage from Oliver’s interview with Mark Henderson. I’d decided to record it on a whim, but I’m so glad I did. Upon review, I don’t think we could do anything of substance with the material, but I’ll definitely be keeping it to watch whenever I’m in a bad mood. I watch it back through again and examine Oliver’s face closer, and my smile slips into something softer.

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