into my editing cave.
Good thing I caught you before you turn into a bat.
Ha ha. Def not a bat. Tho I am nocturnal. And I’m almost blind.
I’m nocturnal too.
Do u hate mornings?
With the heat of a thousand bonfires.
Me too.
So…tomorrow night? Still on?
Yes! I pause, then delete the exclamation mark.
Great. I’ll pick you up at 6 for dinner.
Okay sounds cool.
After, we can walk to a wine bar not far from the restaurant.
Perfect.
Excitement sparkles in my veins. I can’t wait to see him again.
Game starts soon, better go.
Oh! You’re playing tonight!
Yeah.
Good luck!
Thanks. See u tomorrow.
I send the thumbs-up emoji and set my phone down. Then I grab the remote for the TV and start searching for the channel with the game.
Chapter 7
Josh
I asked my teammates for suggestions on where to take Sara on our date. None of them know her, and I didn’t go into detail about who she is. I told them I want something nice but not crazy. I’m not going to take her axe throwing, as Easton suggested. Asshole. So I made a reservation at a very nice restaurant in the West Village and did some googling to find a place we can go after. It’s all planned. I let her know the details so she’s not surprised.
Just as I’m ready to leave, Cora calls again. Damn. How many times do I have to tell her things are over? I decline the call, but I know she’ll leave a voicemail. Again.
I take a taxi to Sara’s place in Lenox Hill. On the ride, I think about the videos I watched of her yesterday when my curiosity got the better of me. She’s way more famous than I realized. I mean, I can see why she’s so popular—there’s something just compulsively watchable about her. I have no interest in fashion week or doing a gel nail manicure, but I can’t stop watching, both amused and fascinated. I also learn that she won an award for Breakout Creator last year at the Streamy Awards, something I’ve never heard of, and was on the cover of Cosmo magazine. Huh.
I ask the driver to wait while I go inside to get her. I texted her to let her know I’m here and she said she’s on her way down. I enter the redbrick building through brass doors beneath a small canopy and wait in the lobby. I study the marble tiles and woodwork and the art on the walls under the watchful eye of the doorman.
She emerges from the elevator and I watch her walk toward me, her faux fur coat hanging open. My gaze wanders from a chunky gold necklace shining at her throat, down over the short black dress to her excellent legs, and then lower to sexy black shoes with impossibly skinny heels.
Whoa.
What a contrast from the girl I hung out with the other day. But when I meet her eyes, it’s the same person, those sea green eyes dancing with life and humor. “Hi.”
“Hi. You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks. You look gorgeous too.” She touches the lapel of my black wool coat.
“The taxi’s waiting for us.” I set my hand on her low back and usher her out as the doorman opens the door for us. We slide into the back of the bright yellow car and I give the driver the restaurant address.
Sara shifts so she can face me. “I’ve heard of this place but never been there. This’ll be fun!”
We make small talk on the way there. I discover she watched the game last night, which startles me. Although…I like it.
“I have questions,” she announces. “So many questions.”
“About?”
“Hockey. I mean, I didn’t understand much. You guys move so fast out there! They drop the puck and wham, everyone’s skating all over the place.”
“Uh, yeah.” I’m amused by her description.
“They were talking about you.”
“Who was?” Clearly, her mind zips all over the place.
“The TV guys. They seem to think it was a good deal to get you from Dallas. They said…hell, I don’t remember what they said, but they were complimenting you.”
My mouth twitches into a near-smile. “Oh yeah? Were they talking about my passing and shooting skills? My controlled entries?”
She frowns. “Why does that sound dirty? How do you make hockey sound dirty all the time?”
“It’s one of my hidden skills. They probably didn’t talk about that.”
She snorts. “No! They didn’t.”
“It must have been my amazing skating. My hockey sense? My high compete level?”
“Well, they weren’t talking about your modesty.”
Goddamn, she makes me laugh.
“They probably