Page 21 of Proposal Play
“Guys, appreciate the send-off,” I say, “but Coach will have our heads if we’re late hitting the ice.” I’m antsy to get out there. If we’re tardy, he’ll make us practice longer.
“We’ll be fast, Callahan,” Max says. “Something you should be familiar with…in bed?”
I flip him the bird as he goes to the whiteboard hanging in the corner of the locker room. Technically, it’s for last-minute strategy discussions before practice. Mostly we use it to draw stick figures with dick noses because we’re mature like that.
Curious but wary, I follow Max to the DickNose board, then stop and groan as I get a look at what’s waiting for me. There are no rudimentary sketches of phallic noses—it’s a list titledTop Five Times Asher Has Said Something Cute About Maeve.
Using a hockey stick as a pointer, Wesley adopts a lawyerly voice, tapping the board. “Exhibit A. The time you mentioned her love of the night market and said we should all go there and buy her lamps and mirrors and stuff.”
I cross my arms. “Which you did because she’s fucking talented.”
“True, but not the point,” Wesley says, handing the stick to Max.
The goalie points to the next item. “The time you said how fucking cute it was that she watches time-lapse videos of people painting.”
I did say that, and I stand by it. Hell, she even got me hooked on those videos. They’re relaxing.
I gesture for them to hurry this along. Clearly, they’re not going to let up until they review the whole list, which only has four items, despite the title. I’d roast them back for their inability to count, but I want to get this over with.
Miles grabs the stick, tapping the third item on the whiteboard. “The time you wanted to check on her after a game because she’d been under the weather.”
“That’s just being nice, you fuckheads,” I say, grumbling.
Hugo claps me on the back. “Nothing to be ashamed of, man. I do that for Melissa all the time. After she stayed up late baking jersey cookies for the cart five nights in a row, I rubbed her neck when I got home after a game.” His wife is a cookie-baking and decorating maven who sells her goodies here at the arena. But instead of regaling us with tales of her cookie artistry—as he often does—he taps the board. “Back to you, Callahan.” He reads item four. “Don’t forget the time you were so excited Maeve came to a game.”
I furrow my brow. “She comes to a lot of games.”
With a satisfied grin, Max uncaps the erasable pen and adds the missing item five.She comes to a lot of games.
“How is that cute?” I ask.
He claps my shoulder. “Tone, Callahan. It’s your tone.”
I hold my hands out wide. “Well, this was a great gift. Truly.”
“I knew he’d love it. Let’s frame it for him, guys,” Hugo says, snapping a pic of the board—because of course he does. These assholes will never let me live this down.
“I’ll blow that up poster-size and hang it tonight. And listen, can’t wait to return the favor with gifts for all of you. Let’s hit the ice,” I say, turning around.
Wesley whistles loudly for attention, and I turn back. “That wasn’t your gift.”
“You found another way to give me a hard time?” I ask.
“That was the setup,” Wesley says, then reaches into his stall and tosses me—a box of condoms.
I catch it and immediately toss it back. “With friends like you…” I mutter, then head straight out to the ice for practice.
I amnotgoing to think about the intended use of their gift. Not. At. All.
The moment practice is over, I’m the first one off the ice. Back in the locker room, I shower and change at lightning speed, avoiding my friends as best as I can when I grab my bag and go.
I don’t need their comments in my head. Because those assholes are annoyingly right. But the thing is—Maeveisawesome. That’s a fact. She’s funny, bold, and wild, and she’s faced pain no one should ever have to face. But she’s on the other side, strong and gutsy, and she’d fight off a nest of vipers for anyone she loves.
I’m one of thoseanyones. And I’m not stupid enough to risk losing that.
Doesn’t matter that I liked kissing her.
Doesn’t matter that I have dirty dreams about her.