The game ended up with the Aces winning three–two, which burned a bit, but I couldn’t be too bummed about it. It wasn’t like they just eliminated the Condors from the playoffs or anything. I kept the TV on for the postgame show while I scrolled through Twitter on my phone, but my ears perked up when they started talking about Chase. I lowered my phone and watched the TV.
“He seems to be playing more hesitantly with the puck,” one of the men said. “He chooses to pass it a lot more than play it, and that’s a problem.”
“It definitely could be,” the female commentator replied. “It’s early in the season, but Hartman has yet to score his first goal. That has to be a disappointment to the Chicago Aces.”
Huh. I’d been right.
“He’s a player with a lot of offensive talent,” the man went on. “Although he was considered to have underperformed when playing for the Islanders, the last two seasons with the Aces he seemed to have redeemed himself.”
I listened to them analyze Chase for a few more minutes before turning to critiquing the play of the Condors’ goalie, who I agreed had not been sharp tonight.
I picked up my empty popcorn bowl and carried it to the massive kitchen. I set it on the counter and grabbed another bottle of water from my fridge. I heard my phone buzz on the couch. I had to go grab it to plug it in anyway before bed, so I flicked out the lights and returned to the living room.
Of course there were Twitter notifications, but I already knew that because I’d been stupid enough to use the Condors hashtag when I’d responded to Chase, but I still looked at them, and yeah, there was a reply from him to my earlier message.
Chirp. Chirp. Ace trumps bird.
I grinned and quickly replied, because he’d only messaged a minute ago and maybe he’d still see it. That’s terrible. There are no birds in a deck of cards.
True. We’re not playing cards. Hockey! The best game in the world, baby!
Hmmm. Maybe.
Toughest players.
My lips twitched. Are you tough?
Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?
A laugh burst from my lips. I dropped down to the couch and sank back into the cushions. Before I could reply, another tweet came from him.
We play on ice, not the ground. That’s hard.
And more…
No other sport has the same speed.
Hockey players are nice guys.
I replied, So you’re tough but you’re a nice guy.
Exactly.
A smile pulled at my lips and my heart did a fast little flutter. Not sure I believe that.
Maybe sometime I can prove it to you.
I waited for a few minutes before I replied, because I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to shut down this Twitter flirtation, but I also wasn’t sure how far to take it. Finally I tapped in, Maybe. Good game. Night!
Chapter 3
Chase
I couldn’t believe I was tweeting with Jordyn Banks.
She’d seen my tweet and replied, and we’d gotten a fun conversation going. Holy fuck.
I grinned and stared at my phone, re-reading the messages.
That was the most fun I’d had off the ice in a while.
What did that say about me? While I’d tamed down my partying ways, I still liked to go out and, just being honest, there was no shortage of women who liked to hang around with hockey players. I’d had my share of hookups, but that was all they were. I was not into settling down.
I’d had a girlfriend once. She’d dumped me because my career hadn’t gone the way she’d thought it should. That shouldn’t have been a surprise. I was used to having huge expectations placed on me. I was better off alone. Free. Not worrying about the woman left behind at home when we were on the road, and in the off-season doing whatever I wanted, not worrying that I was disappointing her.
So it was kind of weird how a few tweets actually gave me a bit of a rush.
“Coming, Chaser?”
Some of the guys were going out after the game. Meanwhile I was sitting on the bench tweeting with a pop star. I grinned and jumped up, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Yeah.”
We went to The Gallery, a hot club on West Ontario. I’d been there a few times since it opened. It was a cool place, kind of European, with lots of laser lights and high-tech sound. I could feel the beat of the music even from outside the club. We had no trouble getting a table when Bomber passed some bills to the dude at the door, and the guys were soon ordering Belvedere, Tanqueray, and Chivas from the bottle-service menu. That got us some excellent service from attentive waitresses, not to mention the attention of women who wanted to share it with us.
We invited them to join us—why not, they were all hot, wearing short dresses, high heels, lots of makeup, and big smiles. We were dressed in our game-day suits and ties. A woman with long, straight, dark hair sat beside me, and my gaze dropped briefly to her bare legs when she crossed them, the skirt of her dress riding high on her thighs.
“I can’t believe you guys are all hockey players!” she said breathlessly. “I love hockey!”
Ah, here we go. A weird sense of déjà vu fell over me. How many times had I been in this exact situation, talking to a girl who said she loved hockey, but didn’t really know anything about it. The other guys were all into this scene, Bomber flirting with a redhead, Cam and Danny talking to two blondes, Rico talking to another blonde and an African American woman. Like I said, all beautiful, all smiling.
So I talked to the girl beside me, flirting a little, laughing a lot, tossing back a few glasses of Chivas. The weirdest thing? I wanted to tell Ava (that was her name) about how Jordyn Banks and I were tweeting earlier.
Lame. So lame.
We danced, crowded among all the moving bodies, the music too loud to talk. Most guys aren’t into dancing much, but I don’t mind it. I like music, even though I’m not even a little bit musical myself, but I kind of like moving to the beat, letting a good song get inside me so I can actually feel it. And of course, there’s the chance to put your hands all over a hot chick.
The music changed and I immediately recognized the song—a remix of one of Jordyn’s hits. I’d watched the music video a zillion times, probably, although this mix was different—more techno, with throbbing bass, but still her smooth vocals.
Damn.
I could close my eyes and picture Jordyn. The video was super sexy, with close-ups of her face, but also her dancing a lot. I’d also watched her perform the song at some awards show, dancing on the stage dressed in a skimpy, shiny gold outfit and her signature high heels, belting out the lyrics.
Seriously, she had to be the sexiest woman alive, with a sweet, heart-shaped face and big eyes and dance moves that just made me think of fucking.
I swallowed a sigh and tried to focus on the woman I was dancing with, someone real live, right here, and probably willing to go home with me.
Sadly, I didn’t really want her to go home with me. But I had to stop fantasizing over a pop star I’d never in a million years get to be with.
NOVEMBER
There she was—on the cover of some chick magazine, looking absolutely fucking gorgeous.
The picture came up in my Instagram feed, posted by Jordyn. The headline on the magazine read, JORDYN BANKS—FUN AND FEARLESS!
I briefly considered going to buy the magazine but ruled that out. The guys would never let me forget it if I bought a chick magazine.
So I went online and read the article.
I know, I know, I really had to stop doing this. Since that day she’d followed me on Twitter and we’d tweeted at each other a few times, I’d resisted the urge to continue to tweet her. Sometimes days went by without my even checking out her social media presence. I had a life. I was a busy guy. Sometimes, anyway. I mean, right now we were in a stretch of the schedule with all home games, but even with practices and game-day skates and workouts, charity work, and a photo shoot for a sportswear line I’d gotten a sweet endorsement deal with, I still had some downtime.
The article was interesting. They asked about her relationship with Jasper Wright, and I gave a fist pump reading where she confirmed it was over. Then she talked about being single and how she was enjoying her independence. “I am totally comfortable being alone,” she told the interviewer. “It’s a great way to learn more about yourself, and for a woman, independence is important.”