Page 4 of Dating Goals
“Fair enough,” Hendrix says. “But Chase makes it sound like we’re all going to be billionaires.” He snorts. “Well, millionaire-aires.”
“Honestly, Hendrix,” Owen says, pulling a face. “How on earth did you get that English teacher to fall for you?”
“It wasn’t for his grammar,” I say.
Hendrix just grins. “You know what I mean. Anyway, maybe someday we’ll actually have a say in how this team is run.”
“Malcolm’s full of it,” Sawyer says. “Using the stockholders as shields when we all know he’s just being greedy. Like, dude. You’re not fooling anyone.”
The whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but the investment numbers don’t lie. The returns have been solid month after month. Still, something about Malcolm’s latest spin raises my hackles.
“We should have a lockout party!” Beckett’s eyes light up like he just invented sliced bread. “My place, pizza, beer. We can watch the negotiations play out and drink every time someone says ‘good faith bargaining.’”
“Pass,” Kevin says, zipping up his bag. “Leigh’s got weird pregnancy cravings. Last night she wanted pickles dipped in Nutella at three AM.”
Owen shakes his head. “Emily’s got early training tomorrow.”
“Count me out too,” Sawyer says. “Maggie’s cooking tonight, and I value my life. Plus, Otto gets anxious when I’m out late.”
“Your parrot gets anxiety?” Beckett’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Don’t judge my bird, rookie.”
“What about you, Griffin?” Beckett turns to me. “You’re not married.”
I zip my bag, already dreaming of my bed. “Thanks, but I’d rather get some sleep. No point staying up worrying about something we can’t control. Getting worked up won’t change anything that happens at midnight.”
“Come on!” Beckett whines. “Where’s your team spirit?”
“Worrying won’t add a single hour to your life,” I say, channeling my inner fortune cookie. “Actually, pretty sure it does the opposite.”
The guys groan in unison, but I talk over them. “My grandmother used to say worrying is like a rocking chair. Gives you something to do but doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“Who let Yoda in here?” Sawyer launches his sweaty jersey at my head.
I dodge, but Owen’s sock catches me right in the face. “Hey!”
“Nice try, Buddha!” Hendrix pelts me with his compression shorts.
“Gross, man!” I swat them away. “I’m just saying!”
A barrage of sweaty gear flies at me from all directions. “Real mature, guys.” A jockstrap nearly hits my mouth. “Okay, that’s just nasty. Who threw that?”
“The wisdom of Griffin McGregor, everyone,” Beckett announces in a mock-announcer voice. “Next up: how to die alone while spouting inspirational quotes!”
“Oh wise one.” Sawyer bows dramatically, hands pressed together like he’s praying. “Please bestow upon us more of your infinite wisdom!”
I roll my eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”
“I bet he has a Pinterest board full of inspirational quotes,” Hendrix says. “Live, Laugh, Love…Hockey.”
“Dance like nobody’s watching!” Kevin adds with a twirl.
“That’s it. I’m never trying to be helpful again.”
“No, no, please!” Beckett clasps his hands together. “Tell us more about how goals are like butterflies. Beautiful but fleeting.”
“I hate all of you.”
