Derek blows his whistle, bringing practice to a close. The guys skate toward the side boards to leave the ice. As captain, I feel the need to hang back and study each guy as he heads down the tunnel to watch for any issues like injuries…or attitudes.
Jayce glares at me as he passes, reminding me of some tough days I had early on with Gabe being the recipient of my unhappy mood. But he didn’t give up on me. I didn’t see it that way then—just thought he was out to make my life miserable.
However, unlike Gabe, I’m not a patient man.Somehow, I need to figure out how to deal with Jayce without losing my temper.
A light breeze greets me as I step outside to head home—my home. I’ve opted to stay with Gabe and Olivia only during the week and go home on weekends. That way, I can keep up with the house and make sure Mom’s roses and orchids thrive.
Before I drive up to Clearwater, though, I agreed to join a few of the guys for a beer at a local place, the Turtle Tide, known for its hush puppies. Some seafood and relaxed conversation sounds just about right. Besides, some downtime would be good for me. And this will help me connect more with those still on the fence about me being captain.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I’m about to get into my car. A text to our group:
PAYTON: Heads up. Sophie is joining us.
ETHAN: I knew you had a thing for her.
PAYTON: Not at all. She overheard and asked if she could come along.
I consider bowing out, but I know I’ll get more flak than it’s worth.
LUKE: So much for relaxing.
WADE: Why so negative, bro? She’s nice.
LUKE: I used to think sharks were nice too.
ETHAN:What do sharks have to do with it?
LUKE: Never mind. Just don’t forget she’s a reporter, so watch your mouths.
There went my hope for a relaxing evening with friends. Now I’ll have to be on guard all evening. Suddenly, a beer sounds like a bad idea, seeing as how alcohol can lower one’s boundaries and loosen the tongue. On the ride over, I contemplate an array of excuses to get me out of tonight, even to the point of considering calling my sister to see if she needs to talk about something. Anything.
That would be a believable excuse—that my sister needed me. So it wouldn’t be a complete lie. But I’m not a fan of half-lies either. I much prefer the truth. And this idea feels not only deceptive but manipulative as well.
I’ll make an appearance and leave early. It’s been a long week, and honestly, I’m borderline exhausted since my body is still adjusting to practices and workouts again.
When I step inside the restaurant, the aromas of fried seafood and spices bring my stomach to full alert. A constant hum of conversation fills the joint, and beach-themed decor and decorations add to the quaint and inviting ambiance. Ska music plays in the background, giving a lively vibe to the place.
No reason why I can’t eat first and then leave. That will seem more natural, anyway. Not that I’m overly concerned with what the guys would think. Or Sophie, for that matter.
Although I’m a little curious to see what she’s like in a social setting. Specifically, I’m curious to see if she whips out that pink notebook of hers to jot down notes. I bet her pen is pink, too. If I see that big bag of hers, I’ll know for sure since she always has it with her.
I find my crew sitting in an oversized circular booth near the back of the restaurant. Sophie’s already there, nestled between Payton and Mathéo. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders and frames her face in such a way that makes her eyes pop even more under those shiny bangs of hers. She must have gonehome to change because I don’t recall her wearing a floral top when I briefly saw her before practice started. I narrow my focus on the pattern.
Pink roses.
Something stirs in my gut. Not the usual pang of grief I associate with reminders of my mother, but something…warm…endearing.
Sophie lifts one hand in that waggle wave of hers and smiles. “Hi.”
I nod in acknowledgment, but before I can say anything, our server appears at the open end of the table to take our drink orders. Most of the guys order a beer or iced tea. Sophie decides on a Pink Lady.
Of course, she does. The woman clearly has a thing for the color pink. Why wouldn’t that apply to the color of the liquids she consumes? My curiosity about her obsession with the color brings up a myriad of questions in my head.
Like, does she have a pink couch? Pink pillows. Pink pajamas?
That last one leads to other imaginations which I shut down fast. I’ve allowed her room to scrutinize my career. No way am I giving her headspace.
But watching her take that first sip, how the pink of her lips almost matches the blush of her drink, is doing something crazy to my insides.
