Page 10 of Wildcat
“Give me five minutes.”
For the first three miles,Ash interrogates me while simultaneously giving me shit. I offer few details, which just makes it worse. Ash is my best friend, he knows me better than anyone, so it isn’t that I don’t want to tell him. I’m just not sure I can put it into words. I had my share of one-night stands back in the day, but they’ve never been like that. And I’m not just referring to the sex that was off the charts amazing. It was like I’d known her forever.
“I knew I should have gone out with you last night,” he says. “God, I passed out on the couch with my hand down my pants. When are you going to see her again?”
“It hasn’t even been an hour. I think I’ll wait until, I don’t know, at least lunchtime to hit her up.”
He cocks a skeptical brow. “I know you. You wouldn’t have brought her home unless you really like her.”
I don’t bother denying it. I’m not big on random hookups anymore. Been there. Done that. Have the cringe-worthy photos splashed on social media and tabloids to prove it. I made plenty of bad decisions my first year in the league. Since then, I’ve dated infrequently and no one more than a few months at a time. Dating is always hard, but it’s almost impossible at the beginning of a season.
The point is, I could have just as easily gotten Scarlett’s number and waited to take her out another night when I didn’t have to be up so damn early. I’m going to be tired as shit later, but I can’t find it in me to regret it. Last night, this morning, whenever it was, was awesome. And the thing is, I didn’t want to wait. I haven’t been that excited about spending time with a girl ever.
“The timing is awful,” I say. “We’ll be gone all weekend, and when we get back, we start camp, then right into practice, media events, then pre-season games...” I trail off as I realize just how true it is. Even if her schedule was wide open, I have no idea when I’ll have a free night to see her again.
“It’ll always be tricky. Invite her to a game. Oooh, invite her to one of the events Daria’s been trying to get you to attend.” He snaps his fingers like he’s given me a genius idea.
Daria is my agent, and she would love that idea. She’s always pushing for me to attend more A-list events, where I’m seen schmoozing with other local celebrities. I use that term loosely since it’s mostly athletes and influencers. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? That’s a pretty baller date setup if you ask me. Formal attire guarantees she’ll be in a dress and all done up. The dinner and drinks are free, and I’ll even come along to make sure you don’t screw it up.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you in action. I know exactly what type of wingman you are. You end up in deep conversation with chicks, talking about great loves and the one that got away.”
He grins and doesn’t even try to refute it. He’s totally that guy. Ash is likable and easy to talk to, and unexpectedly deep. He has this way about him that people want to open up and tell him their life story. It also means he attracts the emotionally damaged chicks sometimes because they latch on and feel seen or some shit. If I were a psych major instead of a business one, I’m sure I could have a field day dissecting him.
“She thought I was just some college student,” I say as we get back to our neighborhood.
“You are.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Are you sure she didn’t recognize you?”
“Positive.” She guessed just about every occupation except professional athlete. And truth be told, I enjoyed connecting with a chick and my job not being at the forefront.
“And she still hung out with you?”
I shove him, sending him jogging off on the shoulder of the road.
“That’s not the worst part.”
“Don’t hold out on me,” he says with a grin. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“She thinks I live with my parents.”
“What?” He busts up laughing and comes to a halt in my driveway.
“She assumed, and then I felt weird about correcting her.”
“Wow, this just gets better and better. Okay, well, what’s the move then? Invite her to lunch at McDonald's? Splurge on a large nugget meal with a couple of apple pies? Damn, actually, that sounds real good about now.”
I don’t answer. I’m not sure what the move is. I know it’s not that. And after the amazing night we had, where she had no idea that I was a professional hockey player, I don’t want to invite her to some team thing like I’m trying to show off.
“Okay, not lunch. That’s a weak follow-up to an all-night fuck fest. Besides, you might need the glow of the moon and stars to re-engage her bad decision-making. This girl sounds too good to be true. Hence the need for nightfall. She’s probably already regretting hooking up with you and blocking your number.”
I flip him off. Even with him busting my balls, my good mood can’t be beat. She liked me. I felt it. And I liked her too. Last night was a damn dream.
“I’ll figure it out when we get back. I don’t want to bring her to some team event where I can’t give her my full attention.”
