Page 98 of Goalkeeper
“Yep. And Winslow gave us those basic questions, but I also found a list of interview questions online that were kind of cool. I figure we can start there and see how far that gets us.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agree as he grabs his laptop and I reach for the pad and pen I keep on my nightstand.
“Kickin’ it old school?”
“Always. I think better with a pen in my hand. Besides, it has purple ink. I mean, c’mon, Spence, tell me you’re not jealous.”
“Maybe a little,” he concedes. “You’re the only person in the world who calls me Spence. I like it.”
“Good,” I say, because it is good. And he’s looking me in the eye and we’re having a moment.
“You want something to eat or drink?” I ask belatedly. “Sorry, I should have led with that, but I had my hands full of hair.”
“Yeah, that’s gonna be hard to forget. I’ll just take water.”
I grab him a bottle from the fridge and pop the top on my sparkling water. “Okay. We’ve got questions and beverages, so we’re all set. You go first because I say so.” I smile cheekily.
“That whole baby-of-the-family thing is making a lot of sense now.” He laughs. I’ve never seen Spence this relaxed, not even at the party, and I’ve got to say, it’s a good look on him.
“All right, so Winslow’s questions cover general stuff— age, major, family info. Let’s get that stuff squared away first.”
“So, you’re 20?”
He shakes his head. “Not until January. You’re…”
“21 at the end of this month. And you know I’m the youngest of four. My mom’s a lawyer and my dad’s a surgeon.”
“Got it. I’m an only child. My parents are both accountants. They’re divorced, and my stepdad Ted is also an accountant.”
I laugh at that. “Your family has a type, apparently. I can’t say much though. Mine does, too. Sophie’s a doctor like my dad, and you know Jake’s in med school. Nate and Mom are lawyers, and since I can’t stand the sight of blood, it was decided when I was about 5 that I’d follow in their footsteps. I’m majoring in history now.”
“Really? I’d have pegged you for marketing or something like that. That seems like a perfect fit.”
“Yeah, no. History all the way. It’s interesting and it’s a good foundation for law school. What about you? No, wait, lemme guess... Sports Management.”
“Nope,” he pops the “p” sound and looks pretty smug. I kind of want to wipe that smirk off his face, or kiss it away. Damn. Spence on my bed is messing with my head.
“Hmm...ok, two more guesses…”
“Says who?” he asks. “You guessed wrong.”
I wave away his logic. “I get three guesses. Everyone knows that.” He rolls his eyes at me, something he tends to do a lot, while I catalog the man in front of me, trying to guess his major. He’s unbelievably fit. He’s massive, but he’s comfortable in his skin and his reflexes are insane—I’m still amazed he caught that coffee cup in mid-air before it scalded him. “Exercise Science?”
“Good guess...but no.”
At my defeated pout, he laughs. “Half the guys on the team are majoring in that, but not me.”
“Wait. Is this a trick question? Do you even have a major, or are you undeclared? Like, didn’t you already get drafted?”
“I did. This past summer in Montreal. The whole thing was kind of surreal. I got picked up at the end of the first round by the Blaze, so when they call me up, I can go with them, or stay and finish school.”
“Holy shit. You’re kind of a big deal, Spencer Briggs.”
“Not really,” he says, clearly uncomfortable with my praise.
“Uh, yes, really. You’re on afreakingNHL team. Or, like, you’re waiting to be on the team? But, like, they saved a spot for you? Is that how it works?”
“Kind of. A lot of players go to AHL teams at first, but it’s not unheard of to go straight up.”
