Page 86 of Shutout
First, I’ll ask her to be my date to the team benefit gala. If she wants to assume that it’s an invitation as friends, that’s okay. But at the gala, I’ll show her what a date with me looks like. Then I’ll ask her on another one over Christmas break, and on that one we’ll kiss—I’ll make sure to find some mistletoe or carry it in my pocket.
And if our first kiss was wild, unexpected, a little angry and a lot wet, this second one will seal the deal. Of that I’m as sureas the fact that my parents named me Brooklyn because they conceived me at a hotel in the New York borough.
Okay, weird factoid. Maybe my mind’s going in the gutter way too fast.
I make lightning speed work of stripping out of my uniform, chucking my skates and helmet wherever they fall. I grab a clean towel from the rack and dash buck naked across the locker room.
Coach Green and Coach Thomas walk right in the middle of that. “Tatum?—”
“Sorry, Coach! In a hurry.”
The bathroom tiles are cold under my feet and help me acclimate to a freezing cold shower. Just in case. I soap myself thoroughly, also just in case, my eyes stinging as shampoo drips down my face.
“Uh, dude. What’s got into you?” Jamie asks from beside me.
Behind us, Dane says, “He has a date that is not really a date because the girl he’s going out with doesn’t know it’s a real date.”
“Shut up,” I grouch.
“Is this with the girl we met at the Bolt House the other night?”
“Yep.” Dane confirms. “The ex best friend who has our boy more whipped than cream.”
“Shut up,” I repeat as I stand under the punishing spray of high pressure, ice-cold water.
Jamie chuckles. “Good luck. Although I don’t think you need it.”
I turn off the faucet and run a hand down my face. “Why not? Do you think she’s into me?”
“I have no idea. I just mean because you’re a chick magnet.”
I shake my head with a sigh. “Yeah, that doesn’t work on Olivia.”
“Sure.” Dane’s still soaping up his pits as he stretches the word.
I basically whip myself with how quick I try to towel dry myself, and skip back out to get dressed.
“Are you in a hurry, Tatum?”
I suck in air and turn while in the middle of zipping up my jeans. “Coach. Hi. Yes. Sorry. I am. I have plans. What’s up?”
His eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched as if he was trying to put a complex puzzle together. “Fine, we can talk tomorrow after the game. But no bailing from that conversation.”
“I—uh. Everything okay?”
“Yes. More than okay.” Except his smile is more a grimace than a demonstration of happiness. “This can wait twenty four hours.”
“All right.” This is weird enough that, normally, I’d drop everything like a hot potato to figure it out. But Liv’s waiting for me, and I can’t think of anything in this world that would be more important than this crossroads in my life. One just doesn’t walk out of the friendzone with no effort. “Thanks, Coach.”
He nods a bit more than necessary and retreats, giving me full permission to resume. I put on my long-sleeve shirt so fast that it bunches up around my torso. But I have to let it be so I can quickly put on my socks and jam my feet in my boots. After making sure every layer is in place and that I’m not flashing anyone, I dump all my things in my sports bag and run.
My boots skid against the floor as I change direction. After badging through a door and walking through a second one, I’m finally in the public area. There are still people milling about but they’re all blurs in the periphery. I spot my girl rightaway, though. Her coat hangs from her arms and the TATUM 3 faces me again.
“Liv.”
She turns. “Oh. Hey, Brookie.”
I drop my bag. Before she can react, I’m picking her up in my arms and spinning her around. Liv lets out a squeal and has no choice but to wrap her arms around my neck for support. My face is smooshed against her chest and stomach, and I’m momentarily upset that she’s wearing so many layers. I have no complaints about her butt basically sitting on my arms, though.
