Page 68 of The Import Slot
“Nothing,” I snap.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Talk to me, man. Is this about Vicky and Liam?” he says, referring to our chat last night.
“I–” I stop and reach for my phone, dialling Liam. I don’t give a shit what time it is back in Ontario.
I’m not surprised when he doesn’t pick up, so I toss my phone down, turn my back toward Johnny and dry myself off, slipping on my underwear and a t-shirt.
My phone vibrates against the wood of my cubby, and I dive for it, thinking it’ll be Liam, but it’s not. It’s Ronnie, my agent. The dressing room is loud with chatter. I’m decent enough to step out, so I head into the corridor, barefoot and slightly damp.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ryan. How’s it going over there?” She sounds chirpy. I glance over at the clock.
“Isn’t it a bit early for you to be calling?”
“Late. I haven’t been to bed yet,” she laughs, but she doesn’t sound all that amused. “I wanted to check in and see where your focus is.”
She doesn’t want to hear that my focus right now is on Vicky and Liam, but usually on Jen.
“Hockey. My focus is on hockey.” I insist. “Why’d you ask?” I’m confident this isn’t just a random check-in.
“Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on your socials. The Jets love what you’re doing, Ryan, so keep it up. A picture of you and a woman caught my attention. Is this a girlfriend?” Shit. If I say yes, she’ll likely think I’m settling down here with less of an intention of returning. And the Jets probably won’t like that either.
“No, she’s just a friend, Ronnie. Just a friend. I’m focusing on hockey.” I feel a stab in my chest.
There’s no denying that Jenna is more than ‘just a friend’, but I don’t want to risk an offer. I can tell Ronnie once I know what’s happening with my contract.
“Keep it that way. Anyway, gotta dash. Speak soon.” She hangs up, and I’m left feeling more irritated, frustrated and goddamn displaced than ever.
Jenna
I’msittingonthehome bench, lacing my skates, when a familiar-smelling cologne fills my nose. It gives me goosebumps, and my stomach flips when he wraps his arms around me.
It should piss me off, hearing what I just overheard, but what can I say? I was the one who said no labels or expectations.
“Morning, babe,” he says, leaning down to give me a peck on the cheek. He releases his grip and sits beside me. His handsome face twists into a half smile.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. I can tell by his expression that something’s not right.
“Just this whole Vicky and Liam thing. She’s been avoiding me all morning. You were right. She couldn’t even look at me.”
“I can only guess because, to her, you’re a constant reminder of Liam.”
“Well, yeah, but we are distinguishable.”
“Yeah, but I guess to Vicky, the reminder is enough.”
“She’s the one who called off their wedding,” Ryan says, as if he’s defending Liam’s feelings.
“We don’t know what happened, Ry. That’s unfair.”
“You’re right. Let’s just forget about it?”
He’s lacing his skates up, his hands working with no effort. “Join me for nap time?” he asks, turning his head to look at me, wiggling his eyebrows. I bet that’s code for sex, and I want to, but my mind plays back to the conversation I just overheard. I know I said no labels, but it still cuts deep.
“I can’t. I’m meeting Becca for a brew after I’m done here.”
“Ah, right. Has she said anything about last night?” he asks.
