Page 105 of The Import Slot
Jenna
“We’vealreadysoldoutof puck sponsorships,” Vicky says, standing up and stretching. “Ryan’s meant to be coming up with some signed photos, by the way.”
“Oh, can I get one of those?” Bella, the marketing assistant, asks. “He is too good-looking. I’d even say he is better looking than your brother.”
Vicky rolls her eyes at Bella. “He’s Jen’s boyfriend.”
“Your brother?” Bella asks.
“No, Ryan.”
Bella’s jaw drops, but I move my eyes back down to focus on my screen and try to ignore the conversation, though I can feel my cheeks flushing.
Part of me thinks I’m living in some sort of alternative universe, and I’m afraid to think about it too much for fear of combustion or worse, waking up from a dream.
When I say I’m busy, I am busier than ever. I’ve been coming in early to make a good start, often finishing later than I’d like. I need to make good headway with this first phase before I can even think about chilling out a bit.
The GM presented a plan for a secondary project after I complete this one. He mentioned bringing video playbacks in, so the guys can review the game in close to real-time on iPads from the bench. I’ve seen it a lot in the NHL, so I know how it works. Still, I have given myself more work by suggesting that I can upload the footage to the cloud. I need to investigate setting up a portal for the players to log in to, so they can watch back anytime, anywhere.
“Drink, Jen?” Vicky asks, standing up. I nod, and she and Alex head out to the kitchen.
It’s weird because I know Ryan’s here before he’s actually here. I can feel the air change. I get butterflies and smell his fresh scent when he laughs at something outside the door. I don’t think I can actually smell him. It’s more of a memory, but it does things to me.
He strides in, and everyone seems to look up from their screens. He throws an envelope on Vicky’s desk and leans against it; a carrier bag in his grasp dangles down beside him. He’s wearing his team get-up, jogging bottoms and a hoodie with the logo and his number on; that’s what I spot first.
“Your number,” I say, flicking my eyes between his own and the number 19 on his chest.
He looks down with a grin. “I was getting sick of seeing Liam’s number. I told the GM I’d finance the swap, but he did it anyway.”
I must admit, it looked better on him, and he looked proud. I feel like this is a turning point, as if he’s starting to fit in properly.
“I’ve got you a gift,” he says, handing the bag to me. I have a feeling I know what it is before I even look inside.
“Thank you!” I say, pulling it out of the bag as I spring to my feet. “Thank you!”
I hug him quickly, mindful that Kirsty and Bella are watching.
Ryan grabs a Sharpie from Vicky’s pen stash and writes directly onto the ‘nine’ in 19.
‘To my number one fan, with love Ryan xoxo’ he adds his actual signature to the end and caps the pen, tossing it back on Vicky’s desk.
“I’d put that back if I were you. She’ll have your balls.”
I slip the jersey over my head and sit back down, spinning in my chair.
“I love it. Thank you.”
“Makes a change for Danny’s,” he says.
“Yeah, but Danny’s is game worn,” I say.
“Always the complainer. You’re the first person to have that name and number. I haven’t even worn my game-issue one yet.”
I’ll take that. The GM pops his head in and gives Ryan a shout.
“I’ll see you later,” he winks.
I focus back on my screens, but I can feel eyes on me. I glance up to find Bella staring.
