Page 62 of Wooing the Wiccan
Instead of going in, I turn left and circle around the outside. I’m still not sure what I’m looking for, but a walk won’t hurt me.
“…fuck that! If you can’t acceptme, then I’m out. You knew exactly who I was when we started this.”
Startled by the yelling, I glance around. There’s hardly anyone around this side—the doors here are locked, and based on the wall up ahead, I think I’m getting closer to the utility area and loading docks. Off to the left, the wall gives way to a gate, and just on the other side, a man is pacing angrily and shouting into his phone.
Until he’s not, because he’s thrown the phone onto the concrete at his feet. I’m close enough to see a chunk of the screen fly off in a different direction to the rest of the handset.
“What are you staring at?” he snarls, and I lift my gaze to his face.
“Sorry. I wasn’t… I was just walking past.” Poor guy. Whatever that call was about sounded personal. I’d be pissed if a stranger overheard details of my private business, too.
His eyes narrow, and I take a step back. He’s not that big, but I get the feeling that wouldn’t stop him from doing a lot of damage. “I know you,” he says, and my next step freezes in shock.
“Uh… you do?”
He moves closer to the gate and looks around before meeting my gaze again. “You’re the human who’s dating the elf king.”
Oh. “I didn’t realize I had celebrity status” is all I can think to say.
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say celebrity, but there are a couple of photos of you and him going around. And everyone knows you accidentally found out about us at a hockey game.”
Great.
“Is that why you’re here?” he asks. “Scene of the crime, and all that?”
My shoulders slump. “I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe. My whole life changed that night, and I’m not sorry, but… I don’t know who I am anymore. Except the weird person who unloads his personal business on a stranger. Sorry.”
He snorts. “Just saying, I’ve had worse things unloaded on me.” I’m still processing what that might mean when he adds, “I’m Felix Ansas, by the way. So now I’m not a stranger.”
I blink at him a few times, pieces coming together. “You play for the Warhammers.” The only decent player they have, based on what I saw.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to be inside, gearing up for practice, but I had to take a call.”
We both look at the smashed-up remains of his phone scattered across the ground.
“It didn’t go well.”
“Sorry,” I say again, mostly because I don’t know what else to say. “Life sucks sometimes.”
“Fuck yeah.” He sighs and leans his head against the gate. “But I gotta put it behind me, because we have this stupid open practice, and Coach gets shitty when I’m in a bad mood.”
I don’t think asking how his coach reacted to him attacking one of his teammates during a game is going to help his mood, so instead I ask, “Do you have open practices a lot?”
“Nah. Our practice rink doesn’t have any seating for spectators, and hiring time here costs a fucking fortune. We do one with a charity meet-and-greet tacked on during the season, and this one right before playoffs.”
“The Warhammers made it into the playoffs?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice. “I mean?—”
He waves me off. “Nah, we’re a shit team. But there’s only four teams in the league, so even the team that’s dead last is in the playoffs.” He smirks. “One year, that team actually won.”
“No shit?” That’s kind of awesome.
“Yeah. So I’ve got high hopes—or I would, if my teammates weren’t so…” He trails off with a growl.
I make a sympathetic face. “Maybe you can inspire them,” I suggest, and he gives me a look that suggests I’m an imbecile. “Okay, so maybe not. No offense, but the game I was at, I was supporting the Glaives.”
He shrugs prosaically. “They’re a better team. We’re the local team, though, and I don’t want to move, so…”
Someone yells his name from behind him, and we both look in that direction. A bulky guy is gesturing impatiently from a doorway into the bowels of the stadium. Felix flips him off, then turns back to me with a sigh.
