Page 12 of The Game

“I have. But I’d love for you to look it over. An extra set of eyes is always helpful.”

She nods. “Of course.” She flips through the pages. “Oh, this one is interesting. It’s a little different. The Stephanie Lorne Award for Outstanding Women in Business. It’s perfect for you. It’s exclusively for upcoming college graduates in Michigan.They’re looking for community involvement as well as the other usual requirements. How’s your community service game?”

I wince. Having focused so much of my attention on my studies, plus my part-time job at the coffee shop, I haven’t had too much time to devote to volunteer work. “That’s a weak spot right now.”

She tucks her lower lip between her teeth, crinkling her eyes together in thought. “That’s not a problem. You’ve got the rest of the school year. We can find something for you on campus, easy. There are tons of volunteer opportunities. What do you want to do? Hug puppies? Read to seniors? Hug seniors while reading to puppies?”

I laugh. “None of the above?”

“What? You don’t like puppies? Old people are delightful, you know. Aspen and I might never have yanked our heads out of our asses if we hadn’t gotten stranded at that B&B last year. Did I tell you about Norma? I still keep in touch with her.”

I laugh. She has definitely told me about the spicy old lady who ran the Knotty Pine. “You sure have. But I’d like to do something that, I don’t know, would make a difference for someone like me. The other day I ran into Darryl.” Not entirely accurate, but if I talk about that right now, I’ll lose my focus.

“Eww. Did you slap him?”

“No. That would be assault.”

“Shame.”

“Anyway. I was walking home from the coffee shop and ran into him. He was getting in my face again, and then these Campus Walk Safe people came up and intercepted. They walked me to the bus stop. I think I’d like to do something like that. Help other women on campus feel safe.”

“That sounds like a fantastic cause, and I bet they’re always looking for help. Especially at the beginning of the year.” Jordan springs up from her cross-legged spot on the floor. She’s halfway across the room before she finishes the sentence, leaving me with a mild case of whiplash.

“What are you doing, Jordan?”

Her fingers fly over the keyboard of the backroom computer. The huge gray box looks like the child of the very first home computer. How that thing is still running is way beyond my tech skills. I sigh when I don’t get an answer, sliding my Spotify app open to find the perfect playlist. Dance vibes. This is what we need to stretch out our cramped legs after all the sitting.

As the first notes ring out, I’m pushing off the floor, leaning up to the sky to stretch my back out and Jordan’s ass is already bouncing to the beat. She twirls her finger with a flourish, smacking it down on the keyboard. Her hands drop to the desk, then she swivels around, leaning back. “Done.”

“Great.” The tiniest bit of further explanation would be fantastic. I hold out my hands.

“I’ve got you signed up for the orientation session on Tuesday. You’re welcome.”

I roll my eyes. “What if I was working?”

“You’re not. You gave me your schedule for next week. I’ve got you covered.”

If that isn’t Jordan to a T, I don’t know what is. She’s a one-woman whirlwind who gets shit done, and I’m not even mad about it. I probably would have looked it up tomorrow or the next day, thought too hard about it and missed the deadline. A laugh slips out as I shake my head. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She drops in a deep curtsy before grabbing my hands to pull me into a full-on dance party.

By the time I walk out of the store, my arms are aching, but I’ve got a smile on my face, and a tingle of excitement about this new volunteer gig. I wonder if I’ll see my rescuer again. Not the point, Jazmin.

Chapter 6

Dirty Hit

Cole

I’m pacing between theshort rows of chairs lined up in the small meeting room we booked for the orientation. Freaking Kenneth, bailing out last minute and sticking me with the orientation session. I grab the sheaf of pamphlets he left, studying them one more time, hoping to gain some sort of inspiration from the pile of papers. Still no.

I hate doing things like this. Talking in front of people. You think I’d be used to being the center of attention as a hockey player, but it’s different out there. I’m in my element. All my focus is on the ice, the puck, my teammates, and rivals. Not to mention the thick layers of gear that add that extra bit of security and separation from the fans. But every time I open my mouth to speak in public, my fear comes racing back, threatening to steal my breath and slam me into the boards. I can usually get through it if there’s even one friendly facein the crowd, but none of the other Walk Safe crew could make it tonight. To be fair, if they could have, then I might not have gotten stuck doing the one thing I loathe most in the world.

The smile I flash at the first couple of students that trail into the room is weak, so I turn my back on them, wiping my sweaty palms off on my track pants. I snatch a red dry erase marker off the ledge and start making a few random notes on the whiteboard. Hopefully, they’ll assume I’m actually busy, and not a complete asshole for ignoring them as they come in. The shuffling noises ease, and I glance at my phone to check the time. Seven on the dot. I guess I can’t stall any longer.

My shoulders twitch, and I pull away from the hand that lands on my back. Sharp nails rasp along the knit fabric of my sweater when I spin around, backing up until my shoulders hit the smooth surface of the wall. Surprise turns to displeasure when I spot her. Popping up into my life yet again.

“Charlene, what are you doing here?” Her appearances are starting to feel like a broken record, or like I’m caught in some alternate universe living the same day over and over again.

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