Page 33 of Anatomy of a Player

Ain’t nobody got time for that.Not with classes to attend, projects do be done, and a hockey fundraiser event to cover mid-week on top of everything else—Lindsay had insisted that yes it was important, and no I couldn’t miss it.

I set my heavy bag on the edge of Will’s desk, and then rolled a nearby chair next to his and plopped in it, grateful I had a little time for sitting.

“So basically,” I said, now that Will looked more alert, “I’ve found that it’s hard to get people to stop to answer a few simple questions, and I feel like I’m not getting their full opinion.” I’d tried in front of the library again yesterday, thinking a Monday would have people refreshed from the weekend, but I’d had even less people stop than on my Saturday attempt just over a week ago.

I had pages and pages of research, but I wanted the story to be more personal, so it would have a bigger impact, not just be the article people skimmed and tossed away without another thought.

Will scratched at the side of his head, the other hand still gripping his cardboard cup. “You have an idea, yeah?”

“I started thinking that if the questions were online, then we might have a better chance at reaching more of the student body. Without me standing there with my pen and notebook, people wouldn’t feel as much pressure, either. Plus it takes out any bias I might accidentally throw into it.” Before, it would’ve been against athletes, but after having such a great time with the guys at the party…admittedly, I felt myself softening a bit.

Which just proved that I needed to keep certain lines in place. Like no thinking about how Hudson had helped me get in with the team, or how he’d taken me home when I didn’t have a ride. Not to mention the dance we’d shared, his warm, firm body pressed against mine. The temperature in the room rose a few degrees, and I fought the urge to fan myself.Okay, seriously, stop.

I grabbed my own cup of tea and tipped it to my lips. I’d decided it tasted better than coffee—especially with a lot of honey added—but I needed to drink twice as much to get enough caffeine. “Also, people think of stopping to answer questions as a waste of time, whereas they don’t equate it the same way online.”

“That’s true,” Will said. “It’s why I find myself filling out so many of those damned which hero/villain/Disney Princess are you quizzes on Facebook before I’m like, what in the bloody hell am I doing?”

“And which Disney Princess are you?” I asked.

A shy grin spread across his face. “Rapunzel. Something about being creative and optimistic and believing in my dreams.”

“I’m Snow White. Gentle and loving to all creatures, empathetic and trusting, sometimes to a fault.” The quiz had warned me to watch for poison apples, but my weakness came in hot guy packages—that was why I needed to catalogue Hudson’s moves, not be naive enough to fall for them.

The key to getting past this part where I was still tempted by delicious-looking guys with smooth lines was to put all of my energy into my article and my future career. With that in mind, I refocused on the task at hand—I had to be across campus in twenty minutes and couldn’t afford to waste time. “We agree online is where it’s at, then?”

Will nodded. “Definitely.”

“Awesome. I’m not sure how to go about setting it up, and I didn’t know if we’d want it tied to the paper, as that might create bias. Plus, it might make it harder for me to keep up my guise as just a sportswriter. None of the hockey players are going to talk to me if they’re pissed at the paper.”

Will slammed down his cup, turned to his computer, and started typing. I assumed that meant he had an idea about how to set up an online survey. “There’s this app where people can share anonymously. People are sorted into groups, so I can find the one for BC and post there. It’ll have a bunch of hits by the end of the day, I guarantee it.”

I scooted closer to try to see what he was doing without crowding his space.

“We won’t be able to track demographics of the students.” He shot me a sideways glance. “Unless we use…thoroughmeans.”

I’d worked long enough at the paper to know that that meant Will would have to use his hacking skills. “Right now I don’t need the demographics. Let’s just focus on trying to find out what people really think.”

“Brilliant,” he said, by which I knew he meant “cool” or “sounds good.” But at the moment, I felt pretty brilliant in the super smart way.

…

The desk in the back corner of the large classroom gave me a good vantage point to observe the interaction between the professor and the hockey players he had in his class. There were three, and I was sure it wasn’t a coincidence.

I spotted Dane Kowalski, head down, his large body nearly dwarfing his desk.Clearly he’s not very involved in the lecture.

Ryder “Ox” Maddox sat next to him—after the party the other night, I’d had to look up his real name, wanting to better put players to their numbers and positions. He also looked like a giant sitting in a little kid’s desk, and at least attempted to stay awake, though his blank stare didn’t imply much engagement in the lecture, either.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I covertly slid it out and glanced at the text.

Will:Check it out.

I clicked the link he’d sent. At first I thought he was just showing me how the survey looked, but then I noticed that quite a few people had already answered.

Me:Awesome. We’re gaining traction.

Will:Check the comments. We’re getting more than traction.

I glanced toward the front of the room. Since the professor looked like he’d be lecturing for a while, I figured I was safe. I scrolled down to the comments. As I began reading them it was clear that we were an online generation, one that felt more comfortable saying exactly what we felt—sometimes to the point of being brutal—from behind a computer.

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