But me? I can’t move on. Not when it comes to Josie. And that’s a problem.
Coach dismissed us half an hour ago and we’re sitting in a booth at Wolfie’s waiting for the freshmen, Franconetti and Deano, to join us. Santos and Booker say it’s team bonding, and I’m all for that. When we connect off the ice, we play better on it. But the truth is, the freshmen are growing on me. Franconetti is a ball of energy and Deano is his super chill opposite, but they’re good guys.
The door opens and a stream of sunlight illuminates the darkened bar as the two new members of our team walk in. Wolfie’s is one of those hole-in-the-wall type places. It’s got greasy food, cold beer, vinyl booths, and pool tables. It’s been around for decades and I’m pretty sure it looks the same now as when it opened back in the ‘70s. But it’s a staple here at Bainbridge, and since I just found out my hockey career is probably over before it even starts, I’m about to drown my sorrows in a greasy cheeseburger.
“It’ll be fine,” Santos says as the freshmen slide into the booth we’re occupying. They don’t bother grabbing menus because Wolfie’s isn’t known for variety. There are only a few things to choose from, but they’re all fried, and they’re all good.
“It won’t be fine,” I say, but before I can explain why Coach’s ‘solution’ is basically a death sentence for my hockey career, ourserver arrives to take our orders. After we order half the menu, she leaves with a promise to bring our drinks out.
“I’m with Santos,” Booker says, always the peacemaker. “It’s gonna work out.”
I look at both my friends, my captains. “Are you crazy? It’s gonna be a goddamned disaster. That’s assuming she even shows up, once she finds out who she’s tutoring. I’ll bet you she walks out the minute she spots me.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Santos says. “That’s not Josie’s style, and you know it.”
“Um…what’d we miss?” Deano asks.
“Nothing much. Just the fiery death of my hockey career,” I answer.
Santos rolls his eyes. “No one’s career is over.”
“Easy for you to say,” I reply because I’m in a pissy mood. “This is never gonna work. I’m telling you that right now.”
Our server stops by with drinks just as Franconetti looks at me, a question in his eyes. “Still totally lost here, my guy.”
I sigh, because I do not feel like rehashing the last hour of my life. But considering that I crash every mandatory study hall the freshmen have to go to, it’s not exactly a surprise to them that my grades are less than stellar. Booker and Santos look at me, gauging my comfort level, but I just nod. These guys have only been on the team for two months, but they’ve both earned their spots—and my trust. “Alright, here’s the deal: I’m barely skating by in my courses. If I don’t pick my grades up ASAP, my ass is gonna be sitting out for the next few weeks.”
Franconetti’s jaw nearly hits the table and Deano mutters, “Shit.”
“Right,” I agree. “And hockey is my life, no joke. It’s literally the only thing I’m good at,” I say, talking even while Santos tries to interrupt. “I’m serious. It’s my thing. My passion, whatever. It’s also my future. I fucked up my knee freshman year andskipped the draft. But I worked my ass off to get back on the ice, and I’m even faster now than I was before. I need to play, guys. I have to or there’s no chance of me getting picked up after graduation. And that means I’m working at my uncles’ construction business for the rest of my life, and just—no. I have to figure this out. I’ve got to. But the tutor Coach found? It’s never gonna work.”
“What’s wrong with the tutor Coach found?” Deano asks as our server drops off our food. We dig in, and in between bites, I explain.
“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”
“Shit,” Deano repeats.
Santos shakes his head. “But she’s also a total sweetheart. She’s literally one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. And smart as hell. I know it’s not ideal. And it might be awkward at first, but I’m telling you, Josie knows you. She’s kind of perfect for the job.”
“The hell have you been?” I ask my best friend. “The other week at Drip, I walked in and she walked right out. The woman can’t stand to be in the same freaking coffee shop as me, so it’s a solid bet she’s not going to want to tutor me.”
“Josie? As in, Mel’s friend Josie?” Franconetti’s eyes practically turn into hearts when he talks about his girlfriend.
“Yep,” I say, stabbing a fry into the little cup of ranch on my plate.
“Josie from the library? Short, with long brown hair and glasses? She’s awesome,” Deano says. “Wait…she’syour ex?”
“Yep,” I repeat, trying not to picture her, but it’s impossible. Josie is forever branded on my memory: the way she looks, the way she laughs, the way she talks, the way she sounds when she falls apart in my arms. We weren’t together all that long, not even by college standards, but she meant more to me than anyother person I’ve dated, before or since. Josie is my ideal in every way.
But I’m sure as hell not hers.
“I’m telling you, this is not going to go well,” I say, taking another bite of my burger.
“Alright,” Santos concedes. “Then what’s plan B? You’re holding your own in Stats, but if I recall, the rest of your schedule this semester is…”
“Shitty,” I say. I’ve saved as many of my English and humanities classes for senior year as possible, mostly out of sheer dread. “I’ve got Intro to Philosophy, Feminist Studies, Contemporary Lit, and Medieval History.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Franconetti says, but that’s because the man doesn’t break out into a cold sweat at the prospect of reading a chapter or writing a paper–I do.
