Page 45 of Scoring Chance
“Yeah, me too,” says Roskowitz, strolling out of the showers, his hair still dripping wet and a towel slung around his waist.
“You don’t even know what we’re doing,” Dean-o says, shaking his head, but Roskowitz shrugs unapologetically.
Ollie looks at me pleadingly. “Franconetti? You’re coming, right?”
I should go. I mean, these guys are my teammates, and when we gel off the ice, we tend to play better on the ice, at least in my experience. But I’m just not feeling social tonight. All I feel like doing is heading back to the hockey house and relaxing. Maybe I’ll see if anyone is online and feels like playing Wizards and Warlocks. I just need to unwind a little. And if I go out with the guys, that’s not happening.
Just as I’m trying to find a nice way to decline, my phone buzzes. Ollie scoops it because privacy is a hard thing to come by in this locker room.
“Oh, shit, no wonder you’re ditching us.”
“What are you talking about? Who—”
“Mel wants you to swing by Drip. Her shift is over in half an hour and—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because I swipe my phone from him and check the message myself. It doesn’t matter, though. The locker room is filled with shouts and catcalls, but I don’t pay them any attention. I’ve got more important things to focus on.
Mel: My shift ends in thirty. When you’re done with practice, swing by and I’ll make you a cinnamon spice latte. Then maybe we can hang at yours for a bit?
My fingers type out an immediate reply.
Will: On my way.
I grab my hoodie and my bag, and holler goodbye behind me. I may know fuck-all about dating, but I’m no fool. If Mel wants to hang out, who am I to turn her down? I mean, I know we’re not actually dating, but we’ve got to keep up appearances, and I’m not complaining.
* * *
After meeting Mel at Drip,we make it back to the hockey house and head up to my room.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be—this is Mel. Yeah, I’ve only known her a few weeks, but I can relax around her, be myself. But now that we’re up here, I’m self-conscious. My bed’s barely made, there’s a tower of laundry in the corner and—
“Woah,” she says, turning toward me and placing her hands on my arms. “I can feel you spiraling. Dude, it’s ok. We’re just hanging out. We’ve done that before. We made our public appearance, so now we just chill. Nothing is going to happen between us unless we both want it to.”
“But I do want it to,” I assure her, then realize I’ve started pacing.
“You sure about that? Because I'm getting shades of the kid who nearly puked on me a couple weeks ago.”
My cheeks heat. “Am I ever gonna live that down?”
She holds my hands in hers and squeezes them. “Nope.” She steps away and glances around the room until her eyes land on my desk and gaming chair. “Nice setup,” she tells me, taking a seat and spinning around. It’s so big it dwarfs her, but I’ve got to admit, she looks good in it. Then again, this is Mel we’re talking about. She looks good everywhere.
“It’s my outlet, you know? The thing I do when I just need my mind to go blank for a bit.”
“You’re a gaming nerd,” she says, nodding decisively. I don’t correct her because she’s not wrong. “I get the need to wind down, theoretically anyway,” she says. “I’m one of those people who has to stay busy or I’ll go a little crazy.It’s one of the reasons I started working at Drip. I was there pretty much every day, drinking a gallon of coffee and studying. They were always swamped, and one day Ian told me if I kept hanging out there for hours, he was going to put me to work. And he did.”
She smiles when she talks about her best friend. I’ve only met him once, but if he can make Mel that happy, he’s got to be a good guy.
Mel looks up at me, and that’s when I realize I’m just standing in the middle of my room, like I landed here and I’m not sure what to do next. As if she senses my nervousness, she smiles and says, “What’s the first thing you do when you get home from practice? Pretend I’m not here and do whatever it is you normally do.”
“Ok…um…”
“You don’t have to narrate it, goofball. Just do it.”
Right. Ok. So, I toe-off my sneakers and kick them in the direction of my closet. I yank off my hoodie, too, because it’s freaking hot in here since the AC’s busted, and toss it in the direction of the hamper, but Mel intercepts it. Is she gonna put it on? Because I won’t lie. She’d look damn good in my Bainbridge Hockey hoodie.
“Ooh, am I getting a striptease?” she asks, her words playful.
“You wish,” I tease back.
