Page 32 of Unrecognizable Player

“Don’t mention it.”

When I tellMischa about Alice saying yes to his date he literally jumps in his skates. Coach shouts at him to stop taking chunks out of his rink.

He makes a face likeshitand I laugh at his stupid ass.

“How long have you liked this girl?”

He shakes his head. “Oh man, ages.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to her?”

He tries to rub the back of his neck, but realizes he’s still wearing his gloves.

“She’s just… you know, and I’m… I don’t know.”

I slap him on the back. “Yep, good talk man.”

I try to skate off, but he calls me back. “Where should I take her?”

“I told Stef to get her to choose.”

“Good shout. I’m so bad at these things.”

“I know. By the way, I hope you like heavy metal music.”

“Huh?”

I laugh at the expression on his face as I skate away.

For a minute there, I forgot about the fact this is fucking everything. That we have back-to-back games this weekend and that we need the points to make the play-offs.

Fucking Stef and his cute little distractions.

Thursday night’sset for our ‘date.’ While Stef gets dressed in his room, I pace the living room, reminding myself that I’m not going on a real date. Mischa and Alice are. We’re just ‘chaperoning’ or whatever.

But when he comes out of his room wearing a nice shirt and jeans with his hair tied back, showing a long, lean neck and giving better access to his face with those pretty features, my palms start sweating like it is us going on a date, and I am so unprepared it’s ridiculous.

“Have I got toothpaste on my face?” The self-conscious way he touches his face only makes him more attractive dammit.

“No, you look fine.” I stop looking before I give myself away.

Alice drives over and picks us up in her little Fiat. I hear my dad’s voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t be getting girls to pickmeup for dates, but tell him it’s not my date. I’m just tagging along. I’m a chaperone. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. I’m sure my old-fashioned dad would approve of multiple men chaperoning a lady’s date with a hockey player she’s never met. Even if Pawlowski is like a big, harmless Labrador.

Stef gets in the passenger seat and I thank God that Alice is petite so my legs aren’t crushed against my chest in the seat behind her.

When Pawlowski comes out of the house, he’s wearing this expression on his face like he’s about to be taken out and shot. For some reason, it makes me jealous. I have never felt that nervous about anything outside of hockey. Okay, maybe sometimes, when I’d logon to Bookgeeks and see a message from horror boy. But in real life? Never.

He smells like he took a bath in DavidoffCool Waterswhen he climbs into the backseat beside me. Glancing nervously at Alice like she’s a hand grenade that might go off at any second.

“Hey man.” He says to me. “You look nice.”

“Um… yeah, thanks, you too.”

I slap him on the arm, just so he knows I wasn’t checking him out or anything.

Stef and Alice giggle and share one of those knowing glances only people who’ve been close for years can share.

“Hey Alice, you look nice too. And you Stef.” Mischa says.

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