Page 53 of The Rebound Play

“I’ve had a lot of soda, so I need to use the facilities,” she says as she gestures toward the stalls.

“Go right ahead.” I turn to look in the mirror and push my hair back from my face. Knowing I was going to be looked at when Dan inevitably blew me a kiss at the game tonight, Clara helped me apply some makeup. I’ve got mascara, eyeliner, and even managed some lip gloss—although that was well and truly kissed off by a certain Ice Breakers captain only moments ago.

“Who knows? You might be joining the family before too long,” Emmy calls out from one of the stalls.

I try not to let my heart leap at the thought, but she’s the second person to suggest such a thing in the last few minutes—the first being the man himself. So that’s exactly what my heart does: leap past the clouds, as high as Mount Rainier.

There’s some chatter outside the ladies’ before a girl explodes into the bathroom, followed by another in quick succession, filling the space with their laughter. I recognize them as a couple of the gorgeous women who’ve been attending each of the Ice Breakers games, wearing their cute outfits, complete with bunny ears tonight. Seriously, they look more like they belong in a Hugh Hefner nightclub than at a hockey after game party.

“Oh, it’s you,” says one of them, her smile dropping as her eyes land on me.

I’ve seen her around a bunch of times. From the Maple Fest, where she flirted with Dan at the signing table, to both the Ice Breakers games. She was one of the women who cornered Dan after the first game.

Mom always taught us that it’s better to make a friend rather than an enemy, so I smile at her and say, “Hi, I’m Keira.”

“Oh, I know who you are. We all do,” she replies, and her friend nods in agreement, her eyes sweeping over me—and finding me wanting. “You’re the girl who’s somehow managed to pin Dan Roberts down.”

“Well, I’d hardly say I’ve pinned him down—” I begin to protest.

“Oh, you have, honey. Although how?” She sweeps her eyes over me once more. “I’m not so sure. Maybe Dan likes the mannish type?”

Her friend sniggers.

I press my lips together. I had to deal with catty comments from girls before when I was with Dan in high school. Mom always said they were only jealous, so I shouldn’t let them bother me. After all, she reasoned I had Dan and they didn’t.

The woman who looks like a walking Instagram filter leans on the counter beside me, peering in the mirror as she dabs on some more makeup to her already flawlessly made-up face. “The way I see it, Dan’s remembering what it was like to date you back in the day. He’ll have his little walk down memory lane and then come to his senses.” She turns to look at me. “A girl like you can’t hold on to a man like Dan Roberts for long.”

I open my mouth to respond, not even sure what I’m going to say. I’ve just become his girlfriend? He loves me? He’s never forgotten me?

All of it sounds ridiculous—because you know what? She’s probably right. Sure, Dan has feelings for me, but is it only because he’s back here in our hometown, remembering what it was like to be with me back in the day?

Is what we have actually real?

Will he leave me after the last game is played?

Am I enough for Dan Roberts, NHL star?

I can’t stop doubts bouncing around my mind like kids in a bouncy house.

“Come on. You can’t be that naïve. Hockey players aren’t exactly known as one-woman guys. Well, maybe one woman a night.” She smirks at me as though she’s made a funny joke, when inside, my hopes are dropping like a lead balloon.

“Dan’s not like that,” I protest, lifting my chin in defiance.

She gives me a knowing look. “Really? How do you know?”

I trust Dan, just as I did back in high school. He never said or did anything to make me feel otherwise. But it feels different now. Back then it was just the girls in our class. He made it clear to them that we were together, and he wasn’t interested.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out.

She gives me a self-satisfied smirk. “You know I’m right.”

The door to the ladies’ swings open, and Blair appears. She takes one look at my face, darts her gaze to the women, and asks, “Are these girls bothering you, Kiki?”

“They’re … uhh …,” I begin, but words seem to have deserted me.

She glares at the women.

“What’s with you?” asks the one who made me feel the size of a mouse.