Page 44 of Dating Goals
“That’s enough practice for today,” I say, even though there is so much more I wish to express.
Griffin laughs gently. “Okay. What’s next?”
I take a sip of my drink, needing a moment to compose myself so I can go back to acting like a normal human.
“Your German lesson,” I say, trying for casual indifference. “We can start with numbers.”
I figure that would be much safer than starting with something like feelings or body parts.
11
GRIFFIN
Anika skips toward the Visp arena entrance, bundled in a big puffy coat. I’m holding her ticket in my increasingly sweaty hand, but it’s not the upcoming match making my heart pound. It’s the giddy anticipation of Anika seeing me play tonight. She smiles when she notices me, and I’m officially done for.
“You made it,” I call out, trying to sound casual and not like I’ve been checking my watch every thirty seconds.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” She scrunches her nose in a way that somehow manages to be both challenging and adorable. It makes my heart do that weird flutter thing it’s been doing lately whenever she’s around.
I hand her the ticket, “Your pass to this evening’s entertainment.”
She takes it with a suspicious squint.
“Consider this part of your dating education,” I continue. “Dating 101, if you will. Sports Edition.”
“How romantic.” She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile.
“Dating isn’t just fancy restaurants and moonlit walks. Sometimes it’s screaming your head off while men with knives strapped to their feet chase a rubber disk.”
She examines the tickets like I’ve handed her instructions to defuse a bomb. “And how exactly am I supposed to pretend it’s a date if I’ll be sitting in the stands by myself while you’re playing?”
“Trust me, watching me defend that goal will get you so hot and bothered, you’ll feel like you’re on a date.” I wink at her, earning an eye roll.
“Your ego is showing, McGregor.”
“Plus, after the game, you’ll get to meet the team. Perfect practice for talking to new guys without immediately putting them in a headlock.”
She scoffs. “You’re going to throw me in with the wolves? Not even going to ease me into it?”
“Don’t worry.” I flash her my best reassuring smile. “Something tells me you’ll end up leading the pack. Or at least walk away with a nice fur coat.”
“That’s not funny.” But her lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “And for the record, I only put people in headlocks when they deserve it.”
“Noted. Now let’s go find your seat before you miss my stunning performance. And try not to swoon too hard when I make my first save.”
She lets out a slow breath, acting as if she’s contemplating whether or not to cancel me entirely. “I suppose I could give it a try. For educational purposes, you know.”
We make our way through the turnstiles, the familiar sounds and smells of a hockey arena washing over me. The sharp scent of ice, the low rumble of the crowd, the occasional shout from vendors. It’s my second home.
I lead her to her seat, front row with a perfect view of the net so I can keep an eye on her during the game. If this is her first hockey game, I want her to have the best seat in the house.
“Want me to take your coat?” I offer before she sits down.
“Sure.” Anika shrugs out of her coat, and I nearly drop it when I see what she’s wearing underneath.
She’s in a Visp jersey. Not a new one, either. This thing has seen some serious action. Faded in all the right places, with a slight tear at the shoulder seam that’s been carefully stitched. The name on the back belongs to Hämmerli, a player who retired at least five years ago. This isn’t some souvenir shop purchase. This is a jersey with history.
“That jersey’s seen a lot of action,” I say, pointing to the faded player name across the back. “Must be a collector’s item. Was it your dad’s?”
