Page 12 of Chasing The Goal
Connor
sounds like a hell of a romcom.
I tossed my phone onto the couch, flopped down beside it, and staredat the ceiling.
She was downstairs. Right now. Probably putting on sweatpants and pouring herself a glass of wine and thinking I was a total dork.
Which, fair.
But maybe dorks had a shot if they were persistent.
I pulled my phone back into my lap and opened a new note:
Ways to win over Mallory Quince.
Don’t be a creep.
Be funny but not too funny.
Make her laugh over and over again.
Keep the glasses clean.
Ask her out. Be cool. (Not desperate)
The rest of the night, I couldn’t stop picturing her smiling as the elevator doors shut. Her voice on repeat in my head
'Next time'
'Next time'
'Next time'
Challenge accepted.
Mallory
Friday morning came wrappedin grey skies, pouring rain, and the betrayal of my coffee maker – which decided to quit on life like a teenage drama queen. I'd barely managed to slap on concealer and wrangle my hair into a passable ponytail before bolting out the door. By the time I stepped into Training Room Three, I was craving caffeine and solitude.
