Page 49 of Keeper
“From what my friend told me, he wants the convenience of a dedicated girlfriend without giving any of the commitment. Because of course his silly superstitions don’t say anything about remaining faithful. No, no—he’s an athlete, aspecial boy!He gets to have his cake and eat it, too.”
I frowned. “That’s sleazy.”
And to think I was actually excited to meet this guy a minute ago …
“Yeah, but it’s pretty normal for these guys,” she said with a shrug. “It’s how athletes operate. They can’t keep their dicks in their pants when they’re on the road. And you’d be surprised with how much these girls will put up with—because hey, he’s hot, he’s got money and fame. He’s a friggin’pro athlete,for God’s sake! But even the most love-struck girls can put up with having their minds fucked with for only so long before the novelty wears off. When they try to pin him down for something more serious, he starts acting all weird and distant and at that point, it’s over. Then he gets to act like your heartbreak is allyourfault because you were the dummy who let yourself get attached in the first place. Some real grade A douchebag, mind-game bullshit.”
“This happened to your friend, I take it?”
“Yup. He fucked her uprealbad. She’s absolutelythrilledabout his shitty play right now, because he hasn’t won a game since he dumped her. But, of course, she’s only thrilled because she’s clinging to this pathetic hope that they’redestinedto be together”—she clasped her hands together and dramatically batted her eyelids—“and if heeverwants to win another game of hockey again, he’ll have to come to his senses and take her back.” She laughed, a low and sneaky growl. “Oh, man. She’d kill me if she knew what I was planning tomorrow.”
My eye began to twitch. I wondered if she’d given a speech like this about me and Brendan back in high school … but before I caused a fight, I pushed that drama back down into darkness from which it had sprung.
“So why in the world would youwantto fool around with a guy like that?” I asked.
She looked at me and laughed. “Um, hello? I’m the only girl alive who won’t fall for his bullshit. I’m going to do tohimwhat he does to all these girls. And he’s gonna love it.” She inspected her nails. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he falls for me, honestly.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get it. Seems risky. And how much fun could a situation like that really be? It sounds toxic as hell.”
“Oh, trust me—it’ssomuch fun toying with a guy like him. Luckily for you, Ainsley,” she said, patting me on the head, “tomorrow, you’ll have a front seat view to all the magic.”
“Well, it seems like you two were made for each other,” I teased, “because he sounds just as crazy as you.”
“Ainsley! Omigod!” She let out a shriek of laughter and budged my shoulder. “You’re such a bitch!”
“I’m kidding,” I said, grinning.
“I know. But you’resoright, too.”
The onslaught on the ice continued, but Vaughn remained strong and held the fort with a spectacular diving glove save.
“Oh, hell.” Marta grumbled, downing the rest of her drink. “How did he even make that save? That looked impossible.”
“Sure did,” I agreed. A pesky knot tightened in my throat as I secretly cheered on Vaughn. I didn’t know why I cared—because he reallydidsound like a total asshole from what Marta told me—but with every save the guy made, packets of bright happiness sizzled and burst in my heart.
I didn’tdarelet Marta know that, of course. She’d take it the wrong way—and it wasn’t anything personal against her, I just wanted to see a struggling goalie succeed.
Yeah, this is definitely our dirty little secret,I thought, biting my lip as Vaughn stopped another shot.
17
Tanner
The final horn sounded, the score 1–0, and I shrugged a thousand pound burden off my shoulders. Breaking into a big smile, I waited between the pipes for my teammates, who excitedly spilled over the bench and came rushing to my net. They jumped on top of me, mobbing me with hugs and helmet taps to congratulate me on alongoverdue victory.
“Fuck yeah, Vaughnsy!”
“A shutout, bud!”
Dane led the troops off the ice and to the locker room, posting outside the door and greeting us with the customary chest-pounding after a victory.
“Vaughnsy with one HELL of a statement game!” he roared. “Great work, brother!”
One by one, the Devils packed into the locker room. Matchbox hit play on the stereo and our victory song kicked off the party. A hundred different conversations took place over the blaring music and the loudripof Velcro straps tearing apart as guys took off their equipment. Everyone laughed and shouted across the room, reliving the glory of victory by telling and retelling the story of each game-defining play.
“Unrealgame, Vaughnsy,” Hathaway said. “You made one amazing save after another.”
“Thanks, boys,” I said.
