Page 35 of These Wicked Games
I get up, because I know he knows I’m awake. I go to my bag and grab sweats and a hoodie, pulling them on before leaving the room.
I go down the hall to the elevator, not sure where I’m really headed. I don’t care. I just can’t be here any longer. Everything feels eerie, the way it does when most of the world is asleep. I reach the ground floor and—fuck, I didn’t even grab my phone. Too late. I am not going back up there. I go to the lobby and Giselle’s at the desk. I smirk when I see the hat she’s wearing.
Her eyes lift and she gives me a big smile when she sees me, and it’s fans like her that fill my cup. I love making them proud. Only, that hasn’t been the case for the last few games. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had to work tonight.”
“It’s okay. I just had to switch so I’m working the nightshift.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Worth it.”
I laugh. “I was there, it was not.” I drop down onto one of the couches, finally feeling some exhaustion. My limbs feel weightless. She comes over, sitting on the chair across from me in the quiet lobby.
“You were a little sloppy tonight.”
“Hey!” I clutch myself in mock hurt. “My pride, Giselle. Be careful.”
She grins. “Normally you’re more focused, making fast decisions. You seemed a bit distracted. Number thirty-four, though—”
“Camden.”
“He was great. Two goals, that’s amazing.” I nod. He got drafted last year and has been an amazing addition for us. “Atlas’s penalty didn’t make sense, though!”
“Right!” I lean forward. “That fucker pushed him into the opponent’s bench on purpose, then Atlas punched him. What was he supposed to do? Then the guy who pushed him didn’t receive shit.”
“I agree. I get a penalty, but not giving one to the opponent . . . that was unfair. He did it on purpose.”
“Finally someone who makes sense." The anxiety webbing my lungs begins to unwind. "Who was the guy?"
A soft blush creeps along her cheeks. "He works here, he's been asking me out for a while."
"How did the boyfriend like that?"
A soft smile spreads on her lips. "Ex." She laughs. “So, what are you doing down here at nearly one in the morning?”
Shit, is it that late? “Couldn’t sleep. My roommate snores.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to room with him?” I look up, surprised. “I’m sorry, I am. We’re not allowed—”
“No, hey, it’s fine. I was being a dick. I just can’t stand him.”
“Yeah . . . we could all tell. Even if you don’t like him, you still have to defend your goalie. That’s like one of the commandments in hockey. Thou shalt defend your net."
“Shalt?”
She bumps my shoulder. “You acted like he had a flesh-eating virus.”
“He may, we just don’t know. Hasn’t been debunked.” She smiles. “I’ll go up in a few, I just needed some fresh air.”
“In the lobby of the hotel?” She gets up. “Wait here.” She walks behind the desk, clicking on the computer and smiling. Reaching behind her she takes a key before coming back to me. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s for room four eleven. It’s not as nice as yours, but it’s free until tomorrow, check out at eleven, if you want to use it. It’s marked as booked. A couple checked out a little while ago because their daughter was sick. It’s already been cleaned, and I’ll make sure to put another cleaning order in when you’re done. Just don’t leave any trash in it, okay? They already changed the sheets too, so don’t worry about that.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“No really, it’s okay.”
