Page 31 of These Wicked Games
“Oli—”
“Is it the sold-out arenas? Is it the fact that since I got signed we’ve risen from the bottom to near second in our conference? Huh? The charity work? What have I done to deserve this?”
“Look, stop thedramatics—”
“Dramatics!” I boom. “He almost destroyed my career, then got drafted onto the team I was supposed to get on!”
“And now you’re here, with me.” He smiles at me, clapping my shoulder. “Everyone wins.”
“Coach!”
“You two need to learn to get along, so you’ll be spending every possible waking moment around each other if I can help it. You’re rooming with him until you can both cut the shit and act like teammates. Do you know how you looked the other night? You were actively refusing to help your goalie. It looked like weakness. It’s signaling to other teams that we have a massive problem, and they’re going to exploit it. You’re both sharing rooms for the rest of the season. Now go, get settled in. Maybe if you're real nice Andre will tuck you in. Read you a bedtime story. We have morning skate, then game time at night. Maybe you and Andre can tuck each other in.”
He leaves me stunned and standing in the lobby. “Sir? Would you like your keycard?” I glower, walking up to her, and she cowers . . . and okay, I feel like shit. I take the card. “Thank you. And sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles. “I likeThe Princess Diariestoo.” I laugh a little. “My boyfriend is a huge fan of yours.”
I open my bag, grabbing my tan and teal Otters hat. “Marker.”
“Wh-what.”
“Give me. A marker.” I wait as she blinks at me. “Please.” Hurrying to find a sharpie, she finds one and hands it to me. “Name.”
“Oh uh, Gise—I uh, I mean Jona—”
My eyes lift to hers. A soft blush spreads over her tan cheeks. “Your boyfriend a big fan?” My brow cocks. “You sure?”
Her face flames. “Sorry, I just . . . I didn’t want to say anything. You’re incredible. And scary!” She glares and my lip twitches. “I just didn’t want to be weird.”
“Name, sweetheart.”
“My name is Giselle.” I uncap the pen. “Holy shit,” she squeals. “Thank you. Thank you, oh my god. My boyfriend is going to shit himself.”
“Big hockey fans?”
“Yes. I mean, I got him into it. We love watching the Otters games at home. He goes a lot with his friends now.”
“Where do you guys usually sit?”
“Oh, I don’t go. It’s something he does with his friends. Guys’ night.”
I pause with my hand on the hat. “You got him into it, though?”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s their thing.”
I don’t like that at all. Why wouldn’t a man want to bring his girlfriend to a game she loves? Guys’ night or no, it was her thing first. “What are you doing tomorrow night, Giselle?”
“Uh, wha—”
"You see that guy behind me in the suit talking into his phone like he’s the most important person in the room?” She looks around me, nodding. “Hey, Rod.” I turn, watching our assistant coach come up to me. “Get her tickets for the game tomorrow. Two of them. Behind our box.” He looks at me, confused. “Please.”
“Oh, uh yeah, Oli, no problem.”
“Holy shit. I’m dreaming. I can’t believe this. Holy shit.”
“One stipulation.” I smile up at her. “You take a friend. Not your boyfriend. You’ll be sitting right behind our box, okay? This is for you.”
“I uh—okay. Yes! Oh my god, yes!” She blinks fast.
