Page 54 of The Goal

My phone dings the message alert just as I’m pulling on my sleep shirt and boxers.

Him: Is that like naked Twister?

Me: I have no clue.

I send him the picture. Maybe he can make some sense out of it, because I sure can’t.

Him: Was this taken with an actual camera or drawn by tiny leprechauns?

Me: Carin’s a scientist, not an artist. Btw did you find someone?

Him: Yes. My buddy Fitz is coming and before you ask, I have no idea re: his oral skills. But he’s hella smart, has a mean slapshot, and I’ve never heard any complaints.

I take a screenshot of that text and send it to Carin.

Me: Is this OK?

Her: Can I have a pic?

I text Tuck,Can she have a pic?

Him: Of what?

Dear God. This is a ridiculous game of actual telephone.

Me: Tucker says: of what?

Her: Face, abs, ass. No dick

I take yet another screenshot and shoot that off to Tucker. While he considers the request, I wash my face and brush my teeth. By the time I climb into bed, there’s a message waiting for me. A picture of a gorgeous dark-haired guy flipping Tucker off fills my screen.

Wow. It’s incredible how hot these Briar hockey players are. Is that a requirement of making the team? Be able to slap the puck a hundred miles an hour and also star in the calendar?

I forward the picture to Carin, who sends me a thumbs-up emoji in return. Then I text Tucker again.

Me: We’re good to go.

Him: Time/place? Seriously can’t read this thing.

Me: Tomorrow. 8 p.m. Carin says there’s booze.

Him: K

I’m about to put my phone away when three dots appear. And then disappear. And then reappear. Finally, the message comes through.

Him: Dick pics that bad?

I smother a giggle. That’s his question?

Me: Why? Are you going to send me one?

Him: Feel like that may be a trick question. Do you want one?

Me: Depends on context. Random dick pics = no. Otherwise? I dunno. I haven’t gotten one that I’ve really liked. You’ve sent one? Or several?

Him: My thumbs are tired. Hold on.

The phone vibrates in my hand a second later.

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