“McKayla didn’t press the issue, but she was wondering—and she wanted me to ask you this—didn’t you say she had experience pretending to be someone’s girlfriend? And do you thinkthat’swhy her answer was so weird?”
Time slowed to a crawl after Brett set that nuke off in my mind.
Holy shit,I thought, my eyes darting left and right as I began to piece everything back together again.
Wasthatwhy, when Leo “caught” us, their argument felt so bizarre, so devoid of an actual real emotion?
Was that why Ottavia insisted Leo wasn’t truly her boyfriend, while also admitting that he was, in some way, her boyfriend?
And was that what she meant when she said it wasreally obviousif I’d just stopped and thought about it for a minute?
I slammed my fist on top of the boards, pissed at myself for not figuring it out earlier—and even more pissed about the rotten things I’d said to her.
Fuck me.
She’s Leo’s fake girlfriend!
But why?
“Change it up!”Seeking a line change, the forwards on the ice sprayed snow, stopping at the bench.
“Ope! That’s us!” Brett shouted, pulling me over the boards with him.
We took the ice. But after the revelation Brett just dropped on me, I was determined to get the hell out of there ASAP and talk to Ottavia.
Next goal wins, eh?I thought, tapping my stick on the ice to call for the puck.
Brett sent me a crisp, tape-to-tape pass. Determined to end this thing, I flew down the left side of the ice—but Tank, hungry for revenge, swooped to intercept me at the blue line. He’d lined me up to paste me into the boards.
Old habits die hard, and I felt muscles twitch as neurons fired, every cell in my body screaming at me to try to pull off some slick toe-drag deke to dangle around Tank and make him look like a fool. But I managed to resist the temptation and do what Rust had suggested instead: I dug my skates into the ice and leaned my shoulder into Tank to absorb the hit.
Oof,we both groaned, our shoulder pads slamming together with a resounding plasticcrack.
But we both stayed on our feet, and the battle continued as Tank wrapped his arms around me. He tried to haul me down to the ice—if a ref was on the ice, that’d be an easy penalty—but I didn’t let up or complain. I put my head down and skated hard at the net, hauling Tank’s dead weight behind me like a drag parachute.
“Dak!” Brett shouted, sensing opportunity. He’d found a soft spot in the defensive coverage and sneakily arrived at the back door, unguarded. With one arm holding back Tank, I used my other arm to flip a little backhand saucer over to Brett. Showtime didn’t waste any time; he hammered the puck over the goaltender’s glove and into the net.
“Woooooo!”my teammates cheered, as we gathered for a hug.
“Dude, what was that?!” Brett shouted. “You looked like fuckingForsbergthere, bro!”
“I just wanted to end this thing,” I said as I broke away from the group hug and raced off the ice.
I made a beeline to the locker room, rifled through my locker for my cell phone, and pulled my text with Ottavia.
But the words didn’t come, and I was still staring at my phone when my teammates joined me in the room a minute later.
What the hell am I supposed to say?
16
Figured it Out
Ottavia
The late afternoon sun shone through BarDown’s wall of windows, its golden rays spilling over the rustic slab tables and hardwood floors, making the whole place come alive with a sheen luster.
As two o’clock approached, the once vibrant buzz of conversation, the infectious laughter, and the clattering of plates and tinkling of glasses all gradually receded into the background. The bustling hectic energy that defined the lunch rush began to ebb away, giving way to a serene stillness that settled over the restaurant like a relieved but happy sigh. A collective sense of accomplishment permeated the air, and we workers carried ourselves with a quiet satisfaction.
