Page 13 of One-Time Shot

“You won’t fail. Your future is secure even without hockey, so quit worrying. I have a meeting now, but we’ll catch up soon.”

The line went dead.

I was instantly pissed at myself. I shouldn’t have called my fucking father. He had his own agenda. “Hockey’s nice and all, and if it works out—which it probably won’t— there’s always real estate.”

Fuck real estate, fuck yoga, fuck meditation.

I wouldn’t deny that I could use a diversion of some kind, though.

What I really needed was to disconnect for a few hours and find something, anything else to think about besides failure, doom, and uncertainty.

Buzz buzz

I glanced down at my phone and read a new text from Ty.

Watching the game at Langley’s. Get your ass over here.

What do you know? I typed a quick message.

Be there in ten.

I tossed my cell onto my kitchen counter and put my jacket on, slipping my wallet into my pocket along with my keys. I rescued my phone just as a new message popped up. I spared it a casual glimpse, pre-annoyed that Ty was already badgering me to hurry up or to buy a six pack on my way. But it wasn’t Ty.

This is Jett, correct? Where will you be in ten? Is that ten minutes or ten hours? Our scheduled rendezvous is in approximately twenty-two hours. Perhaps this message isn’t intended for me? Please reply with confirmation.

My lips curled into what felt like my first real smile of the day.

It’s me. Sorry. That wasn’t for you. I input your number from the card you gave me.

Excellent.

See you tomorrow, Maloney.

Thumbs-up emoji.Thank you and have a nice evening.

I shoved my cell into my pocket and pulled it out again.I thought you were busy tonight. Don’t tell me you’re texting in class.

My cell buzzed before I reached the door.

I am, and it’s very rude of me. I’m making an exception because this is our first text thread. I was afraid that our wires were crossed and that I was obliged to be somewhere in ten minutes. I’m relieved that isn’t the case.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that he texted like he spoke, but it caught me off guard and there I was, grinning like a fool for no good reason.

No, I’m going to my friend’s place to watch the game, I replied, adding,Bruins are playing the Penguins. Are you recording it?

I could imagine Malcolm squinting as he read my text twice, his nose scrunched and brow furrowed, and…fine—the physics geek was cute as fuck. That didn’t mean anything except he was a nice diversion from real-life stress.

Yeah, this was the kind of diversion I needed.

Three dots appeared and disappeared. No message.

I locked up and took the stairs to the main floor of my building, checking my cell once more before heading across campus to my friend’s apartment complex. I paused on the steps outside Langley’s brick-and-ivy three story building to greet someone I recognized from the gym and glanced at my cell again.

No. That’s the short answer. A longer response involves admitting that I’ve never watched a hockey game in my life. I understand the objective, but I don’t know the rules. It’s Greek to me.

I’ll teach you.

No thank you.