Hooking - Kristine Allen Page 0,51

sleep. “You have an early morning tomorrow and so do I.” She yawned again, causing me to chuckle. “So on that note, I probably better let you go.”

“Mm, ’kay,” she murmured. My chest seemed lighter after talking to her. Like the heavy weight from our afternoon loss had been lifted.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I offered hopefully. Then I kicked myself for sounding like such a sap. Daily calls were for couples. Not friends with benefits.

“Sure, but if I don’t answer, I’m busy.” She sounded regretful, and it got me wondering what was going through her mind.

“How about if I call you later after you get off?”

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Sure. Or I could call you after I’m off.” The offer was kind on her part, but the last thing I needed was to have to explain to the guys why a chick was calling me. Nor did I want to explain who she was. That would stir up a bunch of shit she’d likely kill me over.

“I’m not sure exactly what our schedule is going to be for tomorrow. Just send me a text when you get off, and I’ll call you,” I compromised.

“Perfect,” she replied.

“Get some sleep,” I told her with a ridiculous smile.

“You too,” she said on a sigh. “Bye.”

“Bye.” There was an awkward pause, and we ended the call.

For quite a while, I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t even say what my thought processes were. Something in me was restless and anxious. It was like being on the precipice of something life altering but having no idea what it was.

I’d missed a call from my dad while my phone was dead, but I wasn’t in the mood to discuss the fantastic fuckup that the game had been.

Deciding I needed to get out of my head, I sat up, shoved my feet back in my shoes, and headed down to join the guys. We didn’t have a game the next day, and our flight wasn’t a super early one, so if I drowned my sorrows it wouldn’t be so bad.

It might’ve been a bad idea. Too bad I didn’t realize it until it was too late.

I woke up the next day feeling like absolute shit. I’d known the minute I headed downstairs that I should’ve stayed in the room, but I didn’t listen to my good sense. I’d had too much shit swirling around in my head.

Mac was dragging ass as bad as I was. We took turns showering and packing up the minimal stuff we’d unpacked. We both slipped dark shades on and stumbled out to head to the airport. If I had to guess, I’d bet we were both still drunk.

“This is why I rarely drink like that,” I grumbled as we all fell out of the bus and shuffled up to the plane. McGregor and Beck grunted.

“Whose idea was it drink that much?” Baranov moaned from his seat next to us.

“I blame all of you dumb fuckers,” Westergaard said as he laid his seat back and covered his face with a blanket.

“Don’t blame me. I told you all you’d be paying for it today,” Sinner said. Westergaard lifted the blanket long enough to glare at him with one eye. Then he dropped it back over his face.

For a guy with the last name of Sinner, he was damn near a fucking saint.

“Listen up!” Coach shouted from the front of the plane after we were in the air. There was a series of groans that sounded from all around the plane. “Oh. I’m sorry. I have a plane full of fucking princesses? I thought I had a hockey team on here. If that’s how you’re going to handle every loss this season, then be prepared to get your asses handed to you by your friendly neighborhood coaching staff.”

His lecture that followed only half registered with most of us. In my head I was promising every deity known to man that if I made it without puking before we landed, I’d never drink again. Unfortunately, none of them listened, because coach had barely finished chewing our asses before I was out of my seat and in the bathroom hurling.

Banging sounded on the door as I was washing my mouth out. I didn’t fucking care if I was supposed to drink the water or not. Anything was better than the taste of puke. At least I spit it out.

“Hurry up!” Beck groaned from outside the door. I flipped the latch and