Page 70 of The Quit List
“Jax warned me that might happen.” I grin.
On the ice, the refs are finally trying to intervene and break up the fight. I can make out the appearance of a Cyclones player involved in the tousle—dark hair and eyes, face radiating anger. It reminds me once again to thank Jax for scoring us these unreal seats that give us a very nice close up of the action. Perks of being an in-law of the star of the team, I guess.
I grab my phone, snap a picture of the scene, and send it to Jax with a text reading “thanks for getting us ringside seats to the fight.” He unfortunately had to work tonight and couldn’t come with us. The guy’s pretty damn busy between his remaining bar shifts and all of the prep work he’s doing to get his business open. Makes it all the nicer how much time he’s been spending helping me.
“What’s Aaron’s jersey number again?” Aubrey asks.
“22.” I spot him talking to a teammate as they both watch the fight from a few feet away. It’s so odd—two guys get in a tussle, and everyone else just kinda politely waits until they’re done sorting out their differences.
“I still can’t believe you scored a date with him.” Aubrey shakes her blond waves.
“It’s not really a date. It’s more of a… general invitation to introduce myself later.”
After tonight’s game, a bunch of the players are hitting up a fancy bar in downtown Atlanta. Illusion, it’s called.
I know it’s fancy, because I looked it up. And when I say I looked it up, I mean that I spent multiple hours this week stalking Google so that I know what the dress code is, what drink I want to order, where to park when I arrive and how to pay for said parking, and where to find their bathrooms.
I’m fully out of my comfort zone here—turning up at a bar to “introduce myself” to an athletic celebrity… but I’m glad of it, in a weird way. I feel jittery and mildly anxious instead of the whole mere-moments-from-a-full-conniption-and-panic-attack that I would have once felt. This feels a little bit adventurous.
Which is progress.
But that doesn’t mean I’m also not super, duper happy that Aubrey is coming with me.
It was her idea to take Jax up on his ticket offer and come to the game first. That way, if all else fails, conversation wise, I can ask Aaron a few questions about hockey later.
“A date with an athlete. Talk about living the dream,” Aubrey practically swoons. I can almost see the stars coming from her eyes.
I laugh. “Don’t you have a fiancé? Guy called Alec?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t live vicariously through my old and weathered single friend!” She exclaims oh-so-dramatically and I roll my eyes as she reaches for her phone. “But speaking of Alec, I should probably check in with him. Saturday nights are always busy in the ER.”
She grins as she types up a quick text to her fiancé. Meanwhile, I let my eyes linger again on number 22, Aaron Marino. Star right winger with a dazzling, white smile.
“So,” Aubrey says after putting her phone away. “We have any intel on this guy?”
“Jax says he’s a bit nerdy.” I tilt my head, checking my phone absentmindedly. ”He likes playing Scrabble and crocheting, of all things.”
“Sexy.”
“I think so.”
“Does Jax think so, too?”
I blink at her. “What does Jax have to do with sexy crocheting?”
Aubrey raises a thick, perfectly groomed brow at me. “You have a freaking meet-and-greet with a superstar athlete. A smoking hot one, to boot. And you’re here, at his game, and you’ve done nothing but talk about Jax and check your phone to see if he’s texted you.”
I frown. “That’s… not entirely true.”
“Fine. You’ve also eaten some popcorn.”
Touché.
“I am excited to meet Aaron,” I insist. “But Jax is the one who set this up, for goodness sakes.”
“And how does that make you feel?” Aubrey says in her best psychiatrist voice.
I pause.