Page 73 of Scoring Chance
Somehow, I managed to do it… Mel and I were talking to Doreen and Fred, an older couple who met at Bainbridge in the early sixties and now own a chain of car dealerships spanning halfway up the East Coast. They told us all about their kids and grandkids, and Mel was asking Doreen for crocheting tips. I’m kinda hoping Mel makes me a blanket for Christmas. Hell, who am I kidding? The happiest time of year is two months away, and I just hope we’re still together by then. Anyway, somewhere in our chat with Doreen and Fred, Norris wandered off, and we haven’t seen him since. And because no one on the hockey team has a phone tonight, I’ve got no way of tracking him down.
Mel and I are taking a break to get some food and drink. I’m fucking parched. I haven’t talked this much since I had to take a speech class junior year of high school.
I’m filling my plate with stuffed shrimp and stuffed mushrooms and just…stuff while I casually scan the crowd, hoping Norris’s head will pop into view.
It doesn’t.
“You looking for Norris?” Mel asks, stealing a mushroom from my plate as we make our way to one of the high-top tables they have set up around the perimeter of the room.
“Yeah, where the hell could he have gone?”
“That way,” Mel points toward an exit to our left. “With a short, curvy blonde about twenty minutes ago.”
“What?” My girlfriend should work for the CIA. “How did you track that? I didn’t see any blonde, curvy or otherwise, approach us.”
Mel shakes her head. “Oh, she didn’t come anywhere near us. But Norris had his eyes on her all night, and when she ducked down that hallway and glanced over her shoulder, he followed. My guess is it’ll be a while till we see him again.”
I nod. “I guess that’s his mystery girl? He’s been texting somebody non-stop the past couple weeks and coming and going at odd hours. I figured he was seeing somebody, but why keep that a secret? Seems dumb to me.”
Mel takes this in. “I’m sure he’s got his reasons.” She spears a bacon-wrapped scallop and eats it, letting the toothpick linger between her lips. Damn. Even the way she eats is sexy.
“You think tonight was a success?” she asks, and I realize we’re still in public and I should have a normal conversation instead of staring at Mel’s pretty, pouty lips and imagining all the things I want to do to and with her when we leave in half an hour.
I shrug in response to her question. “Looks like it, right? There are a ton of people here, and everyone seems to be having fun. The open bar probably helps with that. But yeah, I think it went pretty well. Coach seems to be in a good mood,” I say, nodding my head toward the front of the ballroom where Coach Baylor stands with his wife talking to a bunch of suited up guys I’ve never seen before. Coach and Mrs. B laugh and nod at whatever the bald guy is saying.
“That’s good,” she says. “I never paid too much attention to hockey before Ian and Booker got together. I knew Ollie and Van, of course, and I had class with Santos freshman year. And I’d been to a couple games, but I wouldn’t have called myself a hardcore fan. But now? Well, you guys are a pretty great team, and I hope you get the new bus or new locker room or whatever it is your coach is hoping for.”
Once again, she’s talking like she’s leaving Bainbridge, never to return. I need to steer us to a happier topic. So, naturally, I ask about her underwear. “You know what I’m hoping for? To win this game we’ve been playing all night. So…they’re not blue, and they’re not pink… You gonna give me any hints, Mel? Or do I need to use my fucking awesome deductive reasoning skills?”
She laughs, and my plan is working. I just need her to hang on for a few more days so I can show her that we belong together.
“Awesome deductive reasoning skills, huh?”
“Yup,” I say, inching closer and laying a hand on her bare thigh.
“Alright, show me what you’ve got. There’s still fifteen minutes on the clock, but if you guess early, and guess right, there’s a special prize.”
“Now I get two prizes? Even better.”
“Only if you win,” she tells me.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t lose,” I respond, and I feel her thighs clench together just the slightest bit.
Yeah, I might have been awkward as hell the first few times we met, but I’ve changed so much since then. I’m still the dorky gamer boy I’ve always been, but I’m confident in my own skin now. And I owe all that to Mel, but this isn’t just gratitude talking. I like being with her, whether we’re out with friends or at a hockey event or snuggled up on her couch. This was all supposed to be fake, but it’s become very real—at least to me.
“Well… I’m waiting. What have you got?”
I drum my fingers against my chin as though I’m deep in thought. But I’m not. I’ve got one guess left, and it happens to be the correct answer. But what’s the fun in guessing that right away. So, I’ll draw things out just a bit longer. “Alright, so it can’t be white, because I tore the white ones. And it isn’t red, because the red lace panties are still in my room from our study date last week.”
“What? You’re keeping them like a trophy?”
“Nah, they’re in my hamper. But I’ll frame them if you want.”
“That’s unnecessary. And you’re stalling.”
“I’m not,” I say. “They’re not green because you hate the color green. You told me once that you had nightmares about the Lucky Charms leprechaun.”
She visibly shivers and leans in to my touch. “How could I not? He’s creepier than a clown!”
