Page 36 of Penalty Shot

It isn’t too late to get in my car and drive away. Easy enough to text Elise and say I couldn’t make it. Not like she’ll miss one extra person.

Unfortunately, her door opens before I can escape. Elise’s wide grin and glistening eyes and flowery aroma hit so hard, I almost drop the booze.

Christ, I forgot how gorgeous she is.

“What are you standing out there for? Come in!”

My body follows even as my brain flashes a mental picture of me shaking my head, mouth shaped in a silentnooooo.

“Good to see you, Randall,” Lily calls from her perch on the arm of a sofa.

“Hey, Lily,” I greet back.

“Guys, this is Randall. He’s a superstar goalie and wine bearer,” Elise says while freeing me of the wine and giving me a wink.

“Randall, that’s Woody, the most sought-after lighting designer in the city. He wouldnothave turned my stage into a vampire set.”

“Damn right,” Woody says.

I recognize him from the bar that first night. He looked like a snob then, too. Walking over, I shake everyone’s hand and try to keep up with Elise’s introductions.

“Hailee is our historian. She works on transgender identities in medieval and early modern England.”

“Cool,” I say, pretending to know what that means.

An old feeling from my childhood—when I would realize I had not only forgotten my homework, but I had no idea there was any at all—is a familiar embarrassment I don’t wish to relive in the middle of my friend’s living room.

“Amber is my colleague who stepped up and took over my classes when I had to leave,” Elise says of a tall Black woman with the kind of cool eyeglasses only super-smart yet hip people can pull off. “She’ll be the assistant stage manager in Cleveland when the semester ends.”

The college teacher shakes my hand and smiles at me, the wine-toting jock who skipped college and went straight to the junior major league before getting drafted by the NHL.

“Good to meet you all,” I say to the room, surprised that my voice sounds remotely normal. I should drop off the booze andmake an excuse to leave. I’ve got nothing in common with these people.

Elise tugs my wrist so I turn to face two women, one with silvery blonde hair and another whose face is so smooth and flawless, it could be airbrushed.

“This is Geraldine, my mother, and Sienna, her best friend.”

They’re smiling at me, but I don’t miss the side-eye they give each other. Sienna is tall and lanky; Geraldine is about Elise’s height although a little plumper. It appears that Elise gets a lot of her poise from her mother. With a classic bob and a lifted chin, the woman comes across as sophisticated and classy. Her smile is warm, though, taking the intimidation factor down a notch.

Sienna shakes my hand but Geraldine steps forward with her arms out. I lean down to accept her quick hug.

“Thank you for having me,” I say and realize the only thing I can offer is a six pack. So much for classy.

“You didn’t have to bring anything!” she gushes. “But thank you. Come to the kitchen to grab your drink.”

“I’m alright for now,” I say past a dry throat.

Elise nudges me with her elbow. “C’mon, let me show you what we’re having for dinner.”

“Sure, yeah.” I follow like a lost puppy.

And then, out of nowhere, the ear-splitting scream of a baby fills the air.

“Oh, perfect, you’ll meet Naomi!” Ma says to Randall, her cheer overshadowing his confusion.

“Sit down, Lily,” I call to my friend who had been holding Naomi all day and needs a break. “I’ll take her this time. Or maybe Randall will.”

I put my hands on his shoulders—still illegally wide and shapely, by the way—and turn him around to face the stairs. It takes a nudge to get his legs moving.