You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey) Page 5

  Then I discover that I can make my little round vehicle spin. I lean back, the buildings whirling around me as I twirl lazily, the sky a patch of pearly gray. When I stop, Josh is watching me with a big smile.

  When I hear the beep meaning our time is done, I pull my phone out to take a few selfies, maybe for Instagram later.

  When we’re back on dry land, I’m breathless from laughing. Josh’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and his eyes sparkle. Shaking his head, he says, “That was the craziest thing I’ve done in a long time.”

  “If that’s the craziest thing you’ve done, your life is sad.” I tuck my arm through his and we start walking.

  “Can’t argue with that,” he says.

  Aw. “I’m sorry I made you do that. At first you didn’t seem very happy about it. I should have asked.”

  He’s silent for a few seconds. “That’s okay,” he finally says, his tone gruff. “It turned out to be fun. I, uh…like spontaneity, as long as it’s carefully planned.”

  I choke out a little laugh. “Okay, good to know for the future.” Strolling past the skaters wobbling around the ice, I wave toward them. “They must look amateurish to you.”

  One corner of his mouth hooks up. “Not really. They look like they’re having fun.”

  “Sometime you can teach me to skate. Don’t worry! I won’t make you do it right now.” Wait, that would be a great idea for a video! I file that away.

  He chuckles. “You know we’re going the wrong way to get to the subway station.”

  “True. I thought we could just loop around behind the library. Oh.” I pause. “I did it again. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. So this is the library?” He gestures at the big stone building.

  “Yes. Do you want to see the front?”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “I don’t know much about the history of the building, but I like the lions in front.” We round the corner onto Fifth Avenue and continue toward them. “They’re called Patience and Fortitude. Those are things I need to learn, so I’ve always remembered that.”

  “Patience and Fortitude.” Josh nods thoughtfully. “Those are good things for us all to have.”

  Damn. I like this guy, despite his desire to plan his spontaneity.

  “Right?” We wander past the big stone steps to admire the other sculpture, pausing for a few minutes there before continuing on.

  We turn the corner and walk the two blocks to the subway stop. Once we’re inside, we pause, stepping out of the way of people rushing past. We’re going to different trains.

  “Thanks for lunch,” he says. “And the bumper cars.” He gives a tiny eye roll, but the corners of his mouth are lifted into an almost-smile.

  “Thanks for the interview. I think it’s going to be great. We were hilarious.”

  His near-smile widens slightly. “I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

  I had that feeling. Maybe sometime he’ll tell me why. He makes me intensely curious, not in a nosy way, more like interested in what makes him tick. He puzzles me and I want to know him better.

  Maybe I should dial it down, though. I know what happens when I don’t rein myself in; guys get turned off. I most likely already turned him off with my charging into the bumper cars. I’ll probably never see him again, despite his suggestion that we hang out. Even though I don’t want to be someone I’m not, I can learn better ways of communicating, of being considerate. I’m trying.

  So I merely say, “I’m glad.” And offer a smile.

  “We should exchange numbers.”

  “Oh! Right!” Giddiness overtakes me at this demonstration that maybe he will actually call me again. He enters my number into his phone and sends me a text, and I add him to my contacts. “Done!”

  “We have a game tomorrow night and Sunday night, but then we’re away for almost all of next week.”

  I nod, trying not to show my disappointment.

  “I’m going home to the Peg,” he says with a grin. “Also Minneapolis and Columbus.”

  “Oh! Are your parents there?”

  “Yeah.” His smile is now full-on. “They’ll be there watching.”

  “That’s exciting for all of you.”

  “Well, probably stressful for my dad. He’s the general manager of the Jets. So obviously he wants them to win.”

  “Gah! That’s hard!”

  “Right? But this isn’t the first time this has happened. With my old team, it was the same thing every time we played against Winnipeg. My mom cheers for me.”

  I laugh. “As she should.”

  “Anyway, I have Saturday night off, if you want to do something then.”

  My heart swoops. I’m trying to think if I have anything planned Saturday.

  “If you’re busy, we can touch base when I’m back,” he says.

  “No. I mean, I’m not busy. I think.” I swipe at my phone to check my calendar. Without it, I’d be a total mess, so I’m diligent about entering things into it. “Nope. All good.”

  “Okay. We’ll chat before then.”

  “Okay!” My smile feels as big as a skating rink.

  Our eyes meet. And hold. Excitement shivers through me. Then he leans down and kisses…my cheek. A soft brush of those gorgeous lips across my skin. My belly flip-flops and my heartbeat accelerates.

  “Bye,” he says.

  “Bye.” I feel like I can’t move, glad there’s a tiled wall behind me to support me.

  He moves away, and I call, “Good luck tomorrow night!”

  He turns, smiling, and calls, “Thanks!”

  I watch him walk, his legs long and his stride sure and athletic.

  I have a funny, spongy feeling in my chest, and I can’t stop smiling all the way to my train and then all the way home as I replay my time with Josh Heller.

  I find a seat and lean against the wall of the train. This feeling inside me is unfamiliar. Sure, I’ve had boyfriends. Well, very short-lived boyfriends. One in high school. One after I moved to New York. I’ve gone out with lots of guys, but it never turned into anything more. A few times I got hopeful that I’d met someone I could love, but they never seemed to feel that way about me. I’ve wondered if anyone will ever be interested in someone as screwed up as me. So I’m afraid to get my hopes up now. And even more afraid because I had so much fun with him and I really, really want to see him again, and that means the disappointment will be even worse.

  I throw myself into work when I get home, pausing for a dinner of leftover garlic Parmesan spaghetti, followed by a snack of popcorn later while editing videos in my bed. I wake up in the morning with a popcorn kernel stuck to my cheek. Sexy. No wonder I sleep alone.

  * * *

  —

  In the morning, I hike a few blocks to my favorite cycle studio. I love the streets in the morning, with little traffic, the noises of garbage trucks picking up trash, and people out sweeping sidewalks and getting ready for the day.

  I ride my ass off in class. I’ve never been athletic, but I know I have to stay active to stay healthy. This is my most enjoyable way, although I’ve tried yoga and Pilates classes and high-intensity, low-impact classes, but this is a fun way to push myself.

  I walk home, the cool air chilling the sweat still on my body and in my hair, and jump into my shower for a long, hot steam. Letting my hair air-dry, I settle on my couch with a cup of coffee and my computer. Harper calls to see how the interview with Josh went. I assure her it will be great. “I’d like to do another interview with him,” I tell her.

  “Well, we should wait and see how this one does. I have some ideas for other people, in the meantime.”

  “Okay, that makes sense.” Honestly, I don’t care how people like the podcast. If I want to interview Josh again, I will. But I don’t argue about that with Harper. “Like who e
lse?’

  She lists off a few names and I am unimpressed. One is a Hollywood actor trying to get his career back on track. Does he think talking to me will make him cool? Another is a wannabee actress who is famous only for showing up where cameras are. “What am I going to talk to her about?” I ask Harper. “Honestly, I don’t think she has anything to say.”

  “But she’s so popular on social media.”

  “But for what?” I shake my head. “No.”

  This is happening more and more often. Harper and I don’t always agree about what I should be doing. She’s suggested I polish up my image more now that I’m famous. Ugh. I’m not used to someone trying to tell me what to do. I’m used to talking about whatever comes into my head, or ideas that my fans suggest they want to hear about.

  “What about Hazel Morales?”

  “I don’t even know who that is.”

  “She’s twelve years old and she just won the Great Kids Bake Off.”

  I blink. “Huh. Twelve.”

  “I know you’ve been going with older guests and topics lately…”

  “Because my fans are older now.”

  When I started this seriously at age nineteen, my fans were all tweens and teens. Now five years later, those girls are college age or nearly college age, and I know that since I’ve been vlogging and podcasting more about my experiences as an adult living in New York, I even have fans in their twenties.

  “She’s adorable,” Harper says. “Everyone will love her.”

  “It could be fun.”

  “Definitely. I’ll set things up.”

  After that, I get ready to go out. Today I’m filming myself shopping at my favorite thrift store, Grace and Favor.

  Getting ready doesn’t entail a whole lot. I don’t have time for a bunch of prep, but at least I’ve taken a shower and brushed my teeth.

  Since I discovered this shop in the East Village, I’ve shopped there a lot and gotten to know the owner, Grace. She even came on my podcast. She has a great eye for fashion and curates the things she sells in the store to make sure they’re in good condition, and she keeps her prices reasonable. All she sells are women’s fashion, accessories, and jewelry.

  I’ve got my camera with me and I’m all set for an afternoon of exploring and trying on clothes, and then if I find some good stuff, I might record myself trying them on at home later. I’ve already arranged this with Grace, and I pop in to chat before I actually start filming.

  “Shopping at thrift stores is unpredictable,” I say into my camera. I immediately think of Josh, who likes things…predictable. “You never know what you’re going to find. So it’s never a good idea to go shopping thinking that you want a blue maxi dress with long sleeves and a high neckline, because in my experience if that’s what you’re looking for, you will never find it. On the other hand, don’t be tempted to buy things you don’t need just because you find a deal. Keep an open mind and be ready for surprises! I do have some tips for you, though.” I walk into the store and stroll between some racks. “Look for quality garments. You can buy cheap clothes brand new in a lot of stores, but in a thrift store, take the opportunity to buy things that are good quality. Like this!” I pull a jacket off the rack and hold it up. “Check this out!” I show off the designer label. “And it’s black, my favorite color! This is a definite try-on.”

  “Hi, Sara.” Grace greets me as if we haven’t already planned this.

  “Hi!” We exchange hugs. “Do you have anything special to show me today?”

  “Well, we just got in a pair of shoes I thought you would like.”

  “Show me now!”

  She leads the way over to the counter. There are a few other people shopping in the store, eyeing me curiously.

  “Oh yes! I love these!” I pick up one of the sexy high-heeled shoes and hold it to my chest. “You know me so well! I don’t wear heels very often, but I love them.”

  “Come over here and try them on.”

  This will all be edited into my usual video style. I try the shoes on, and they fit perfectly. So does the jacket. I also find a cool designer T-shirt that’s super soft. When I pick up a silk shirt, I say, “Another tip: always check the labels. I’m too lazy to go to the dry cleaners all the time, so I’m not buying something that needs dry-cleaning. But…here’s another tip: you can often hand-wash things that say dry-clean only. Sometimes. And hey…this shirt is ten dollars…if I wreck it, it wouldn’t be terrible. But I’m sure this could be washed and hung to dry. However, I am not in need of a silk shirt right now.”

  I do find a cashmere sweater and a skirt I like. “But this is too long for me.” I inspect the hem and the lining of the plaid skirt. “But I think if I shorten this, it would be awesome. It would look perfect with a crop top and the jacket I’m getting.”

  Carrying my shopping bags, I wave goodbye to Grace as I leave the store, then turn off the camera. That was productive and fun. But I’m not done yet. Now I head home to model my finds and then begin the long process of editing it to perfection.

  I stop at Whole Foods and pick up my dinner, a big spinach-and-quinoa salad and roasted chicken, then continue on to my apartment. The neighborhood is totally different now than in the morning—congested with honking cars and big trucks, people swarming the sidewalks and jaywalking. But I love this too—I love the energy and vitality. It’s exciting.

  It was intimidating moving here on my own when I was only nineteen, but it was what I needed to do. College wasn’t working for me. My depression was spiraling downward so I moved back home, but my parents were overprotective and worried about me, and that always made me feel guilty. They were definitely worried when I moved here, but they were also supportive and I’m grateful to them for that. I need to call them tonight.

  I use my phone to video myself in my new outfits in front of the big mirror in my bedroom, trying a few different combinations. I pin up the skirt to the mini length I want it. Maybe I’ll do a video of me hemming it. Then I flop down onto my bed. “I’m tired,” I tell my phone. I almost spill the beans that I have a date tomorrow night but zip my lips right up. My life is an open book—mostly. There are some things I keep to myself, and relationships is one of them. There were rumors about me and another YouTube vlogger last year and people go crazy for that shit—some of his ardent female fans thought I wasn’t good enough for him, some of my haters insulted us both, ugh. And we were just friends! I can only imagine what people would say about me dating Josh Heller. And I bet he has lots of female fans who wouldn’t be happy about that.

  This disheartens me.

  “Blah,” I say aloud, pushing up off the bed. Clothes are scattered around the room, but I have work to do. After I eat. And change. And pop out my contact lenses and switch to glasses.

  Dressed in my softest sweatpants and sweatshirt, I sit on the couch while I eat and watch TV. Sometimes it’s good to stay off social media, so I watch old Friends episodes. I love that show. I love their friendships and their struggles, although I do find the show is not very diverse, which strikes me as odd given how New York looks these days.

  My phone pings with a text message and I lean over to peek at it.

  Josh.

  My instinct is to toss the food aside and grab my phone. But I finish my dinner, set down the plate, and pick up the phone.

  Hey Sara. How was your day?

  I smile. Busy! I’m about to go into my editing cave.

  Good thing I caught you before you turn into a bat.

  Ha ha. Def not a bat. Tho I am nocturnal. And I’m almost blind.

  I’m nocturnal too.

  Do u hate mornings?

  With the heat of a thousand bonfires.

  Me too.

  So…tomorrow night? Still on?

  Yes! I pause, then delete the exclamation mark.

  Great. I�
�ll pick you up at 6 for dinner.

  Okay sounds cool.

  After, we can walk to a wine bar not far from the restaurant.

  Perfect.

  Excitement sparkles in my veins. I can’t wait to see him again.

  Game starts soon, better go.

  Oh! You’re playing tonight!

  Yeah.

  Good luck!

  Thanks. See u tomorrow.

  I send the thumbs-up emoji and set my phone down. Then I grab the remote for the TV and start searching for the channel with the game.

  Chapter 7

  Josh

  I asked my teammates for suggestions on where to take Sara on our date. None of them know her, and I didn’t go into detail about who she is. I told them I want something nice but not crazy. I’m not going to take her axe throwing, as Easton suggested. Asshole. So I made a reservation at a very nice restaurant in the West Village and did some googling to find a place we can go after. It’s all planned. I let her know the details so she’s not surprised.

  Just as I’m ready to leave, Cora calls again. Damn. How many times do I have to tell her things are over? I decline the call, but I know she’ll leave a voicemail. Again.

  I take a taxi to Sara’s place in Lenox Hill. On the ride, I think about the videos I watched of her yesterday when my curiosity got the better of me. She’s way more famous than I realized. I mean, I can see why she’s so popular—there’s something just compulsively watchable about her. I have no interest in fashion week or doing a gel nail manicure, but I can’t stop watching, both amused and fascinated. I also learn that she won an award for Breakout Creator last year at the Streamy Awards, something I’ve never heard of, and was on the cover of Cosmo magazine. Huh.

  I ask the driver to wait while I go inside to get her. I texted her to let her know I’m here and she said she’s on her way down. I enter the redbrick building through brass doors beneath a small canopy and wait in the lobby. I study the marble tiles and woodwork and the art on the walls under the watchful eye of the doorman.