Page 40 of Puck & Make Up

FOX: It happens sometimes.

DESSIE: I’m still sorry. How’s the eye?

FOX: Feels like I got into a fight.

DESSIE: Because you did?

FOX: There’s that.

DESSIE: It looked like it hurt.

FOX: Lucky for me, I’ve got a hard head.

DESSIE: Still looks like it hurt.

FOX: I’m fine, sugar. But it’s cute that you’re worried.

DESSIE: I’m not worried.

DESSIE: You’ve got ice on it, though?

FOX: *sends pic of ice-covered face*

FOX: Now get some rest, sugar. I’ll see you tomorrow when I get home?

DESSIE: What time does the plane land?

FOX: Three.

DESSIE: Then five or so? I promised Bailey that I’d hang out for a bit.

FOX: Anything you want, sugar lips.

DESSIE: That’s a dangerous thing to say.

FOX: Doesn’t make it any less true.

FOX: And I’m glad you’ve been hanging out with your friends.

DESSIE: We’re brainstorming for jobs.

DESSIE: And, for the record, no one has suggested anything to do with poles.

FOX: Amateurs.

DESSIE: Good night. Safe travels.

FOX: Night, sugar.

I’m tempted to go by Bailey’s on my way home from the rink.

But I’m tired, am overdue for a shower—no stinky hockey players for my girl—and then I need to make sure my place isn’t a disaster for when Dessie comes over.

Yeah, plane rides are so much better than the buses we spent hours on when I was playing with the Rush, but even in the big leagues, we still have to get to and from the airport. So…more bus rides, just shorter ones.

Now I’m driving back to my house and resisting the urge to get my fill of Dessie. Texting isn’t nearly enough, not now that I’ve given in to my need for her.

Not now that I’m determined to make her mine.

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