Page 50 of The Alternate Captain
“No, sorry. I have plans,” I say. “We can catch up another day.”
And Johnny, my knight in hockey gear, or a training tracksuit, swoops in. “Yeah, sorry, bud. We’ve got a reservation. Are you ready to go, beautiful?” His eyes land on mine as he waits for my reply.
“Yes. Sure, okay.” I pick my cello up and turn towards Darren briefly. “I’ll catch up with you soon, yeah?”
Johnny is quick to swipe my cello from me, holding it carefully as he walks towards the car park. And since Darren is watching, I have no choice but to follow him.
Wecome to astop at my car, and I instinctively open the passenger door.
“He’s gone,” Kelly says, checking behind her. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll tell him we’ve broken up next time I see him.”
I offer her half a smile. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine. I mean, same old crap, really.” She adjusts her eyes so she’s looking at me, and bites her lower lip, a pensive look on her face. “You?”
“Yeah, I guess, all good. Just the same old crap for me too, I guess. Season opener is coming up and I’ve got to come up with some ideas for my thesis by this time next week.” I lean on the open passenger door. “Do you want a ride home or something?”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks. I live ages away.”
“Is it? Because you don’t know where I’m going next.” My tone comes out as teasing, and I’m rewarded with a smile.
“Fine. But only because it’s warm and I can’t be arsed carrying my cello that far,” she says, reaching for it as I do. Our hands meet, and that zing I felt when we kissed all those weeks ago shoots right up my arm. “Are you okay with it?”
“It’s like half the size of my gear bag,” I say, opening the rear passenger door.
I slide her cello in and strap it down using the seat belt.
“Have you done that before?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
I wink at her, not even knowing who I am anymore. Am I flirting? Because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I round the car and climb into the driver’s side.
“So, who was that douche, then?”
“Darren,” she says, and immediately her voice changes. I rack my brain, wondering if she’s mentioned a Darren before.
“Darren?”
“Yeah. I don’t think I mentioned him before. He’s my ex.”
“Ah. Right. Well, looks like you dodged a puck to the head there,” I say.
“Yeah, well, sadly I have to work on a duet piece with him and I have no choice about it,” she says, chewing her bottom lip.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say.
She shrugs and nibbles her thumbnail.
“I’ve been meaning to give your hoodie to Mike to give back to you. I keep forgetting, sorry,” she says, belting up.
“I’m surprised you haven’t burned it yet, as some sort of ‘I hate Johnny ritual’,” I snigger as I get myself comfortable.
“Oh, I don’t need your hoodie to do that. I have a voodoo doll.”
I roll my eyes at her. “If you can kill me off before next week, please do. Because this shit is stressful, and I’d rather play goalie for a day with no pads. Address?”
She reels off her postcode as I tap it into my sat-nav, then I find her house number on the list.
