Page 39 of Hot for the Hockey Player
However, I also knew just how tedious life in a small town, and life as a teenager in a small town, could be.And Ididoffer to come by that first night I had dinner at their place.Besides, kids could be brutal and cruel, and if Damon’s volatile emotions were any indication of things, something bigger was going on at school, and maybe me showing up there would ease whatever strife he was going through.
I’ll be there.
I replied, taking a sip of my kombucha.
Damn, that was good.
I took my bagel and booch to go and headed back to my truck.I was just climbing into the cab when a whip of familiar chestnut hair out of the corner of my eye pulled my attention.
“Gabrielle?”I asked, hanging my head back out, my foot on the running board.
She didn’t turn around.
But I would know the back of that head anywhere.And I know she heard me as she loaded her groceries into the back of her SUV.The stiff set of her shoulders said as much.
“Gabrielle?”I said again, this time louder.
Still no response.
She was a few vehicles over, but I could tell she heard me again and was now activelynotacknowledging me.
She did a weird, sideways walk, showing me her back, along the driver’s side of her vehicle, before sliding in behind the wheel, letting her hair fall forward to cover her face and aggressively turning on the ignition and peeling out of there.
What the hell was that about?
Did I do something to upset her?Was she mad at me?
The thought of following her definitely crossed my mind, but I promised Damon I’d go to the school.So I abandoned the notion of taking off after Gabrielle, and instead, headed in the opposite direction toward the high school.
Just as I pulled into the school parking lot, my phone buzzed again with another message from Jasmine.
(Jasmine)
Amazing!You’re the best, Mav.How about tomorrow afternoon?Would 1 p.m.PST work for you?I can send you the Zoom link.
(Me)
Can we make it 10 a.m.PST?I have a cheesemaking workshop at 1 p.m.
(Jasmine)
Cheesemaking?So cool.10 a.m.PST it is.Thank you!Look out for the link shortly.
I added her to my contacts and sent her my email address for the Zoom link.Then, I finished my bagel and brought my kombucha with me as I climbed out of my truck and headed for the front office of San Camanez High, Home of the Dolphins.
“Hey there,” I said to the secretary behind the plexiglass window.“As a visitor, do I need to sign in or something?”
“What’s the nature of your visit?”she asked, chewing.A homemade salad in a Tupperware container sat half-eaten on the desk beside her keyboard.
“I’m a friend of Damon Campbell’s.He, uh … he invited me.”
She lifted one pale, blonde brow, but picked up the phone beside her.“I have a guest here for Damon.Yes.Thank you.”She hung up the phone.“Please sign in right there on that clipboard.”
“Thank you.”I did as I was told and waited awkwardly until footsteps echoed down a hallway nearby.Around the corner a moment later, Damon appeared.His face lit up when he saw me.
“Lunch starts in five,” he said.“Can you meet us in the parking lot?”
“Am Iallowedto be here?”I asked, aware of the secretary eavesdropping.
