You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey #2) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,13
while, I wondered what the heck I was doing. Like, why? What am I giving people? And then I realized that by just being myself I was giving girls the message that it’s okay to be yourself, with all your flaws, and wear whatever you want and not wear makeup if you don’t feel like it.”
I let her words sink in, because I’ve treated this podcast like a fun little break in my schedule with this woman who’s famous for…what? I didn’t even know. But I get it. She’s actually delivering something worthwhile. And that’s pretty cool.
“So…” I pause.
“What?”
“If you’re like every other girl and so relatable…how many of them get to interview NHL players?”
She leans forward. “Yes! That’s it exactly! That’s my struggle lately. I get invited to all kinds of events, like Fashion Week and the Winter Ball and movie premieres, and I’m interviewing people like you! That’s the absurdity of it! The more famous I get, the more I get to do these crazy things that aren’t, well, relatable. And…pressure. Well, mostly, I pressure myself.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Sometimes I get so anxious when I’m editing a video because of the expectations I put on myself and I put so much work into it, it actually sends me into another pit of depression.” She meets my eyes. “Usually this is when guys get scared and leave.”
I’m silent, processing that and trying to figure out how to respond. Since she’s so honest, I figure I should be too. “I have no desire to leave.”
Her slow smile is luminous. Our eyes meet across the small table. “Thanks. I’m a mess, but I can be fun.”
“We’re all a mess, in some way.”
She nods slowly. “Yeah. I think that’s one reason a lot of people like my stuff. They can relate.”
I can definitely see that.
“And lately,” she continues, “I feel pressure from my publicist. She wants me to be different.” She shakes her head. “I just want to be me.”
Our burgers arrive so we pause the conversation as the waitress asks if we need anything else. Sara asks for a coffee refill, which is done right away.
“So how are you a mess, Josh Heller?” Sara picks up a fry with her fingers.
“Eh.” She puts herself out there, but I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. That’s a lot for the first time you meet someone. She doesn’t need to hear about how I just want to be like I was before the accident. “Being traded sucks.”
“Right.” She nods. “I bet people don’t think of the players’ personal lives when that happens. People are sad or mad or happy for their team, I guess.”
“Yeah. Everyone here’s been great. But I don’t know the city, don’t really know anyone here except my teammates and even they’re mostly strangers to me. I know Brando—Brandon Smith—from playing together on the world junior team years ago, and…” I stop, then plow ahead. “I know Easton Millar from when we played major junior hockey, also a long time ago.”
She doesn’t react to that.
“I don’t know that many people here either.” One corner of her mouth lifts. “I’m so busy working all the time I haven’t really made many real-life friends here. Sometimes it gets lonely. But…” She shrugs and picks up her burger. “I stay busy.”
“If neither of us has many friends here…maybe we could hang out.” Wow, I didn’t even think about that. How unlike me. What is happening?
She gives me a level look.
“I know you’re busy,” I add. “I am too. When we have time.”
She smiles that slow, sexy smile again. “Yeah. I am busy. Again, guys usually cut and run when they discover that.”
Just then my phone rings. Jesus. Why didn’t I turn it off? I pull it out and glance at the screen. Cora. Holy shit.
I silence it and put my phone away.
“You don’t need to take that?”
“Nope.”
After her initial anger, Cora started calling me to talk about a long-distance relationship. I was up front with her that I didn’t want to do that, and she didn’t take it well. Shit.
“I get being busy,” I say, continuing our conversation. “Like I said, I am too.”
“I’d love to hang out with you.”
There’s a pause, a few seconds that stretch out, taut and buzzing. Once again that honesty is disarming. She makes me feel…I don’t even know. She makes me feel good. And I don’t usually feel good when I’m not at the arena.