Page 61 of Penalty Shot

He’s such a great guy. I’m determined to focus on myfriendwho deserves all the accolades.

“How about you? Did they—”

“No. It was shut down,” I interrupt Randall, not wanting to relive the disastrous meeting I had today. “It’s fine. I should have workshopped the play more thoroughly. It’s my fault.”

It strikes me that apart from the artistic director and festival producer I spoke to about the scene, only Randall knows about it. I didn’t even have the guts to tell Lily or my mother.

“I’m sorry, Elise,” he says, and I know he means it.

“They’re right, you know. We’re opening in less than three weeks. Preview shows are coming up. There wasn’t any time. I figured it out too late.”

“Elise, baby, I’m so sorry. Nothing changes the fact that it was a great idea. Nothing changes how brilliant it is. Can you use that scene in some other play? Or the idea of it? Maybe it will be produced somewhere else, and you could—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt.

Vaguely, I process that he’s saying the right things, cheering me up, supporting me like the wonderful friend he is. But fuck if I’m not stuck on the “Elise, baby,” which I know he says casually.

Tell that to my body. Remind my hormones that at some point tonight, Randall will be calling someotherwoman “baby.”

“I wish I could be there for you,” he says, sincere and sweet and sexy. God, why does he always have to sound so sexy?

“I should go.”

“Yeah, me too. We fly back out to Miami tomorrow morning. I should get to bed.”

I bet you do, is at the tip of my tongue but I don’t say it. Why would I expect an explanation from a grown man living his best life?

It’s enough that he checks up on me and thanks me and provides laughter and comfort. That’s more than I can ask of any friend.

Then why am I still nauseous?

In an epic showdown that will be etched in the memories of hockey fans for years to come, the Columbus Mavericks clashed with the Miami Sharks in a triple overtime battle that defied expectations. The game, which stretched into over five hours of heart-stopping action, showcased stellar goaltending performances by Mike Anderson for the Sharks who made forty-seven saves and Randall Haughland for the Mavericks who stopped a franchise record of fifty-eight shots on goal.

The first three periods came out with a 0-0 draw in a surprisingly defensive show. As the clock ticked on and the tension mounted, both Anderson and Haughland proved to be formidable obstacles, turning away shot after shot in a display of pure goaltending mastery.

At 2:14 a.m., Brent Mansour deflected the slapshot from Jacob Fox with less than three minutes left in the overtime period. In an exclusive interview withGame Day Gazette, Mavericks captain Dexter Whitby shared his thoughts on Haughland’s extraordinary performance:

“Randall was an absolute wall out there tonight,” Whitby exclaimed, his eyes still sparkling with the adrenaline of the game. “He kept us competitive whenthe pressure was at its highest. Three overtimes? That takes a toll on any team, but Randall stood tall throughout it all. The saves he made…I don’t even know how to describe them.”

When asked about the atmosphere on the ice during such a grueling game, Mansour emphasized the Sharks’ unwavering determination. “Columbus is one of the loudest arenas in the NHL. I can’t believe the crowd stayed through the night. I might have scored the winning goal, but every player out there was giving his absolute all. We knew what was at stake, and we refused to back down. This is a win I’m going to remember for a long time.”

As the Sharks celebrate their hard-fought victory and advance to the next round of the playoffs, one thing is clear: the triple overtime thriller against the Mavericks will go down in history as a masterclass in goaltending and defense.

Sharks will meet Washington Senators in the next round of the playoffs.

Everything hurts.

All four limbs, each of my ligaments, and every muscle from my forehead to my toes scream at me as soon as I open my eyes.

Even my eyelids are complaining.

To add insult to literal injury, my erection is at ball busting proportions.

This starts and ends one way: Elise. It’s always Elise.

This morning, my mind drifts to the backstage of her college theater lab when she was bent over with forearms leaning against the wall, leggings bunched on her knees so she couldn’t widen her legs.

God, that made her even tighter, ass canted up and filling my greedy hands. I’m transported back to the aroma of flowers and the feel of silky hair and those sweet, sweet moans while she’s coming.