Page 106 of The Stud

I remember that shit.

I had never seen so many grown ass women get into a bitch fest about hair wear.

Thankfully, the two biggest pains got traded making them someone else’s seasonal headache.

And now that I think about it…they probably would’ve been the two that wouldn’t want me around.

They would’ve been the ones to snitch.

Afterall, I don’t “fit” the narrative.

Which is why they gave Joey herself so much hell last season.

She’sdifferent.

Unremarkable.

Butdifferentthan what they were used to or more accuratelywantedto be around.

Led by.

Our journey from my place toThe Frost Luxury Hotelis agonizingly long.

Not because I can’t stand Joey or her dedication to the Christmas season no matter what month it is but because of the anxiousness.

Anticipation.

This will be my first eventasan official Slayer.

Basically, my hockey coronation.

The irony of course beingthatwas one of the words on his crossword puzzle this week.

What if Joey’s wrong?

What if he doesn’twantme there like that?

What if he just wanted to toss back a few brewskies with the boys, and I don’t know…celly with just them?

What if he wanted to flirt with random puck pussy to keep those skills sharp for when we eventually split?

Not that I want us to split or think about the day he’ll come to his senses and realize we should.

That I’m not the soc’ trending material he needs me to be.

Of course, I don’t stay up at night and think about that after he’s snuck back into his hotel room when we’re on the roadskies.

I just…don’tnotstay up and think about it.

Getting her car valeted, us through the impressively tight security, and into the actual sea of bodies swaying around in the frigid temperatures puts us much closer to the midnight countdown than I assume she or Cap predicted given the nervous, crowd scouting nature we can see from afar.

Beside him on the couch, under the white tent and draped lighting, is the man who won first star of the game for the night thanks to his two points, two assists, and impeccable aid in blocking a shot we all swore was going in, showing off a half-hearted grin between sips of his beer.

Other players are all over their Slayers.

Kissing.

Groping.

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