Page 47 of Call the Shots
Wasthe rage room the ultimate friendship bonding solution I dreamed it’d be? I didn’t know. And it wasn’t just because I ditched after my mini freakout, it was hard to judge if the guys tolerated each other any differently.
Regardless, they’d have to keep it in check because I had something to get our name out there beyond the ‘hockey team brawl - HILARIOUS’ video from the exhibition practice. That wouldn’t be our first search result anymore.
An editor on the school’s newspaper owed me a favor and I cashed it in. What I wanted was someone to write up an article about the team, something at least to remind people that the Gladiators were there. I just wasn’t expecting her most timid reporter on staff.
“Hi—hi—” She hurried to shake my hand and dropped her notebooks. “Oh, gosh?—”
I scooped them up. “How long did they give you for the interview?”
“Um…twenty minutes?”
I smiled because I thought she was joking until I realized she wasn’t. “Starting now or at the Colo?”
“Um—starting now.”
Crap.I picked up the pace, trying to make my jog look like a power walk. “I’m?—”
“I know who you are, June.” She flamed scarlet. “I’m—I’m Tallulah. I never thought we’d be breathing the same air, much lessinterviewing?—”
I squeezed in as many thank yous as I could, but I really wasn’t important enough to warrant that reaction and we only had—crap, crap, crap—fifteen minutes left of the interview by the time we arrived at the arena. At least the boys were going through drills together, instead of Elijah poking someone with his stick, saying ‘I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you,’ while others crowded around a fight.
Tallulah craned her neck. “I didn’t even know wehada hockey team.”
“Everyone’s going to know the Gladiators now.”
“But…what about you?”
“Hm?”
“I mean…you’re June Basil. What are you doing here?”
“Uh—I needed a change of pace, and this is a true underdog story.” I resisted the urge to grimace. By underdogs, I meant rabid dogs who couldn’t help ripping each other to shreds, but Tallulah didn’t need to know that. “It’s not just about hockey, it’s?—”
Bear skated by, dark hair tousled. “Who’sthis?”
“Could you be a little nicer?” I retorted. “Aren’t you housetrained?” I stopped myself when I remembered our guest. “I mean, this is Tallulah. She’s writing a piece on the team.”
“It’s a two-hundred-word assignment on the eighth page,” Tallulah explained, her voice small.
“Eighthpage?” Bear scoffed. “What’s that—an obituary?”
I told him to leave, and Tallulah apologized. “I’m sorry, they have bigger stories on their lineup. They’re doing a report on—um—Gianna’spreservatives and they’re thinking of changing the Romans color to a slightly darker shade of blue?—”
“That’s above us?” Bear interjected. “You’re fucking kidding.”
I snapped my fingers at him. “If you don’t move, I’ll bring a spray bottle to keep you in check.”
With a roll of his eyes, Bear pushed from the rink, but Tallulah smiled. “Wow, you’re so close. It’s great to see you can joke around like that.”
“Ha. Yeah. Jokes.”
Fridge skated up, cocking his head. “Who are you?”
It was an entirely different question than the dumbfounded one that tumbled out of Bear’s mouth. It was soft as satin, a low murmur, and a blush covered Tallulah’s cheeks.
“I’m—I’m Tallulah.”
“Felix Fowler but everyone calls me Fridge,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.
