we’re just starting our night at the club. An hour from now I’ll still be sitting here like a loser, watching everyone else have fun. Her comment about things getting ugly sits uneasily in my brain, but I promised her I’d fight. I face ugly every day on the ice. Every day I wake up and battle through pain and scars and grueling rehab. If ugly is the cost of being with her, then we take that on too.
“Hey. You’re a hockey player, right?” a voice shouts over my kind-of girlfriend’s song.
Glancing to my left, I find a plastic-looking brunette leaning over the table toward me. I offer a brief smile and nod, which she clearly interprets as an invitation. She slides in beside me, and I swallow my irritation.
“I’m Regina,” she says, offering her hand. “And I’m totally single.”
“Hi,” I respond stiffly. I don’t like judging women. My sisters taught me to respect the pressure they face with unfair standards of beauty, but I’m just not attracted to the fakeness in front of me. I can’t even tell what her natural features look like. She’s completely molded her appearance into something else. There are plenty of guys who buy into that, however, so I’m sure she’ll find a host of other takers tonight. The sooner I can get her on the prowl for them, the better.
“You want to dance?” she purrs near my ear.
“No, thanks. I can’t. Bad knee,” I say, shrugging. First time I’ve been grateful for this nightmare injury.
She looks disappointed, even makes a pouty face I think is supposed to be cute. It all kind of reminds me of Genevieve’s off-putting behavior at her house that first day. Can’t believe she thought this is what I’d want when she had that amazing girl living beneath the mask.
“Can we at least do a selfie then?” she asks, and I force away my irritation. If it gets rid of her…
“Sure,” I mutter, then immediately regret it when she shifts even closer. Her thigh pushes against mine; her breasts press firmly into my arm as she angles her body in a strange pose for the camera.
“Wow. You’re so strong,” she says, practically whispering in my ear again.
I shift away with an uncomfortable smile. “Um… thanks.” Not sure what response goes with that. I search out my teammates for some kind of S.O.S. rescue, but when I make eye contact with Sandy, I get a grin and air kiss instead. No way. He sent this girl over to me? My fists clench beneath the table as I drag in a heated breath.
“Look, I don’t know what they told you but—”
“Just that you were single and lonely and a super-hot hockey player. Are you? Oliver something, right?” She pulls out her phone and starts typing. Is she actually searching Oliver the super-hot hockey player?
I roll my eyes but have mercy since this is Sandy’s crime, not this poor woman’s.
“Oh. Wait. Here’s an Oliver who got hurt. A goalie. Is this you?” She flips her screen to show me a picture of myself. I’m not even sure how to respond to that. Also, how frightening is our world when she can find me with no other information than my first name and profession? “It is you. Omigod. You’re way hotter in person, though,” she says, squinting at her screen.
“Well, I’d just had my knee ripped up and was in excruciating pain in that photo so…”
“I guess,” she concedes and tucks her phone away. “Anyway, want to dance? I can make the pain go away, Oliver.”
I stare at her for a second, hoping she’s joking. Wow, I don’t think she is. “Knee is as messed up as it was five minutes ago, Regina. Still can’t dance. Thanks, though.”
She laughs and taps her forehead. “Oh, right! Duh. Ha ha. So what are you drinking?” She reaches for my glass.
“Seltzer and lime,” I say casually. She laughs again and draws my glass to her lips in a swift movement. Is this girl for real? I wait for the surprised reaction that comes a second later. It’s like reading a Kevin Steen neutral zone pass.
“Wait, it is seltzer.”
I shrug. “Yep.” And now I’ll have to order another one.
She makes a face and shoves it back toward me. “You want to do shots since you can’t dance?”
“No thanks.”
Her face goes pouty again before slipping into a sly smile. “We could just make out. I’d be cool with that.” She whispers something else that I can’t interpret and