Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“I’m good, thanks.”
She nods her thanks and I return my focus to the game. Tampa’s players are getting aggressive, trying to make up for the huge deficit in the score.
When I lived in San Francisco, I volunteered at a group home for disabled adults one evening a week. I led them through modified dance moves to get in some exercise, and then we’d have pizza and an activity, which was sometimes watching a sporting event.
One of the men in the home, Coop, loved watching hockey. I told him my dad coached a team, and I pointed him out on the TV screen during a game. After that, Coop stayed glued to the screen for every minute of the Crush’s games and when Dad was on screen, he’d get excited and yell, “That’s your dad, Talia!”
I miss Coop. Really, I miss everyone I worked with. I tried to go back to work a week after Kyle called off our engagement, but it was too hard. Some of the children and adults I worked with also had intellectual disabilities, and their reactions to finding out I wasn’t getting married were soul crushing.
Many of them didn’t understand. They’d ask me questions that made me cry, or offer me hugs and sweet encouragement that made me cry even more. Coop even said he was going to beat Kyle up.
I took a leave of absence from work, and I planned on going back. But with every passing day, week, and month, I drifted further and further from being the person I was before the future I planned was nuked into a mushroom cloud.
Home is safe. Alone is safe. Being here, surrounded by thousands of screaming fans, is jarring, but at least I don’t have to socialize with anyone.
I feel the vibration of my phone in my bag, and I take it out to check it. It’s an alert I get daily from a countdown app I have.
Voldemort/Cersei nuptials: 34 DAYS
I wrinkle my nose and stuff the phone back into my bag. I still don’t know what got into me when I told my dad I’d go to the wedding. It felt like a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation.
If I don’t go, it sends the message that I’m still upset over the whole thing. Which I am, but I don’t want them to know that. Now I face another lousy option, though—going alone and looking pathetic.
It’s weird that I haven’t found a hot boyfriend while lying on my couch polishing off Ho Hos and binge-watching Love Is Blind, but here we are.
My birthday is next month. Maybe my dad will get me an escort for the three-day tropical extravaganza Audra has planned.
Just the thought of asking him makes me laugh out loud. The guy in the seat next to mine side-eyes me, probably wondering if I’m seeing something he doesn’t.
I’m going to have to fake a major illness. It’s the only option. I’m scrolling through serious but not terminal illnesses on my phone when the buzzer signifying the end of the game sounds.
The home crowd is already filtering out as the Crush players embrace each other, all of them grinning.
The losing streak has been snapped.
“Stay out of that last stall, boys,” Silas calls as he walks out of the locker room bathroom later. “I just shit a Redwood and clogged it.”
I exchange a look with Melina. My dad didn’t allow me inside a team’s locker room until after I was twenty, and even then, it was only a couple of times, so we could talk in his office when I was in college and home to watch one of his games.
“You’ll get used to it,” Melina says, shrugging. “They’re like cavemen—they communicate with belches and farts and love discussing their bathroom habits.”
I’m about to respond when I feel a light, wet spray on my arm and hand. When I turn, I see Bash pointing a bottle of champagne away from himself as he opens it, the foam bubbling over and the liquid shooting out.
“We’re drinking it from the bottles tonight, mothafuckas!” he yells. “First drink goes to our badass goalie, Isaac, who got a shutout tonight!”
Isaac, who showered immediately after the game, only wears a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s beaming as he takes the bottle from Bash and tips it back, letting the liquid run down his face and chest.
His teammates yell, cheer and clap, everyone relaxed and happy after their win.
When Isaac finishes, he passes the bottle back to Bash, running a hand through his damp hair and grinning.
“Love you guys,” he says. “Thanks for never giving up on me.”
“You earned this, brother,” Carter calls out from the other side of the room.
“And you scored two!” Lucien yells at Carter. “Way to go, Cap!”
Everyone cheers and more bottles of champagne are broken out. Of course, Silas pretends one of the bottles is his dick as it sprays out an arc of thick white foam.