Page 2 of Passing the Red Line
“Do you think he’s here for Kalen, Lia?” She asks me, turning to give me a smile that tells me that I should agree with her or get on her bad side. A smile that I know well.
I give her a nod and a small smile back. “Yeah, he could be.”
She doesn’t like my answer because she scuffs and turns back to my husband. “I’m going to go talk to him and introduce myself.”
I’m not the only one that thinks that’s a bad idea because Peter finally gives his wife more than ten seconds of his attention.
“And why would you do that?” he asks, looking at her like she’s crazy.
“Because someone has to put our son’s name out there, unlike some people who don’t even want to pull strings with their father.”
A direct hit in my direction.
Ever since Kalen and I started becoming more than just friends over a year and a half ago, I’ve been getting told by both his parents that I should put in a good word for him with my dad. What they don’t know is that from the start of our relationship, I’ve tried so hard to get my dad to notice him. He’s even gone to a few of his games.
And while my dad thinks Kalen is good and has potential to go places, he doesn’t think he’s NHL material. Something that he has told me and something that I’ve come to realize these last few months.
Kalen isn’t a great team player. Which is ironic to say the least.
I don’t say anything as Peter looks at me giving me a look that is completely blank. I just keep my face as neutral as possible to keep the fact that their words affect me from showing.
It’s like they think that I don’t give a shit about Kalen or his hockey career.
I care. I’m here every game. I tried talking to my dad. What more can I do?
Peter nods at his wife and with a huff, she stands up from her seat and starts making her way down to the man that may or may not be a scout.
I don’t say anything.
If they want to make things harder for their son, then so be it. I’m just an eighteen-year-old girl, I have no sway in the NHL world, no matter who my dad is.
Ignoring Liz and her determination to get her son’s name out there, I turn my attention back to the ice.
It takes me a quick second to find number ten on the ice and when I do, I can’t help but smile. I might find it annoying that all he talks about is hockey, but that doesn't mean that I’m still not proud of my boyfriend. I am and I tell him after every single game.
I just hope that he is able to make his dreams come true and not let his ego or his parents get in the way.
Five minutes after she left, Liz comes back to her seat with a not so pleasant look on her face. Things went bad with the possible scout; I just know it.
Am I a horrible person for wanting to laugh?
“What’s up with you?” Peter asks as soon as she sits down.
She goes on this whole tangent on how the man was so rude to her but halfway through I close my ears to her and try to concentrate on the game.
The operative word being try because my attention quickly goes to someone down by the ice.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, I don’t think too deeply about the reason why an individual wears something, what they wear is none of my concern.
But seeing what this individual is wearing has so many scenarios running through my head.
Why?
Because this person, thisgirl, is wearing my boyfriend's number on her back. I usually don’t give a shit, but this shirt definitely doesn't look like she bought it through the team and most definitely looks like she made it herself.
Interesting.
Have I seen her before? Maybe I have and I’m just noticing because she’s wearing Kalen’s number. Maybe she has a shirt for every player and I’m thinking way too much into it.
