“Why aren’t you going to the party?” Rocky asks as we change after the game.
“What’s the point?” I ask. “It’s all the same people.”
“Except Noah. Noah is new.” She slides off her elbow pads and watches me.
“I already spend most of my days and all of my nights with Noah. That’s enough.”
Rocky growls like a panther. “Rawr. Imagine spending all your nights with Noah.”
“I’m imagining it. When he’s not looking in a mirror, he’ll be telling you how great he is. Good times. Did you know that he bossed me the whole time we were on the ice? Zee, go here. Zee, cover the back door. Zee, man on. He was driving me crazy.”
“Yes, but you played really well. Coach Cray commented on it.”
I say nothing, but she’s right. Lately I’ve been too nervous on the ice, too worried about making mistakes. Noah’s commands had bugged me so much that I forgot to second guess myself. Also, is he that bossy in bed? Because that’s kind of hot.
“C’mon, all your farm chores are done now, right? So, give me one good reason you can’t party tonight. Hey, I rhymed myself.” Rocky giggles.
Besides having to wake up at 5:00am and work? “I didn’t bring anything to wear.”
“Come to my place and I’ll dress you,” Rocky suggests. That’s what I love about my teammates: we’re all big, athletic women who can trade clothes. Of course, being from Montreal, Rocky wears stylish clothes that I could never pull off. That never stops her from trying to drag me to the dark side of fashion.
“Okay, I will go. I probably won’t stay long though,” I add.
“Don’t be so hasty. You might have fun,” Rocky predicts.
I end up in dark jeans and a top that’s sparkly and fluttery. I flap my elbows up and down. “I look like a fancy chicken.”
Rocky ignores me and produces a pair of turquoise flats. “No running shoes, Zee.”
I twirl in front of the mirror. I do look better. Rocky looks amazing in a black top that wraps around her body but has sheer black sleeves. Her faded jeans are stylishly ripped in places where real work clothes never tear.
“Is there someone on the men’s team you like?” I ask.
“No. I wouldn’t date any of those guys. They’re too conceited. But there will be other guys there.”
Since Rocky attracts guys like a doe in heat, I’m sure she’ll find someone in no time.
“I wish I could flirt like you do,” I say.
“It’s not your style, Zee. You’re more the sweet, girl-next-door type.”
Translation: Zoe can’t dress herself and is very awkward with men.
We walk the six blocks to the hockey house. It’s already bumping inside. Noah is in one corner of the living room, surrounded by women. Of course. I’m happy to see it’s not my teammates who are getting sucked in by his pretty face and huge ego.
“Zoe, you’re at a party?” my brother yells out. I appreciate the way he calls attention to my hermit status in front of everyone.
Rocky grabs my wrist. “C’mon, let’s get a drink.”
“I can’t drink. I have to drive home.”
“One drink. Then you can switch to soda,” she says. “You need to kick it up.”
“Kick back, you mean.” I usually don’t bother correcting Rocky’s little slang mistakes, but this one is an opposite.
“Yeah, baby. Kick back. Right on.” She goes full Austin Powers as she opens the fridge and hands me a pink can. This is typical of the hockey house, where they probably buy “chick drinks” by the case. Not that these guys need alcohol to score because they’re already hockey gods.
I trail Rocky for a bit, but then end up talking to other people from our team. And while I’m waiting in line for the bathroom, I meet this sophomore from a farm in Minnesota, and we get into a really interesting discussion about agriculture.
“Soybeans are taking over corn as the number-one crop,” Martin tells me. There’s a tap on my shoulder, and it’s Rocky.
“Excuse us for a moment,” she says to Martin and drags me away. “I was so happy to see you flirting, and you’re talking about crops? Zee, do you not know how to party?”
“I’m enjoying our conversation,” I protest. “We both are. Besides, he’s a sophomore. I’m not going to date him.”
She looks back at Martin, who is watching us. “Why not? He’s tall and not bad looking. But you need to make a move. Maybe ask him to dance.”
The living room has become a dance floor with a mix of EDM and hip-hop blasting from the speakers.
I shake my head. “I’m leaving soon.”
Rocky scrunches her nose. “At least stay until midnight, Cinderella.”
Which gives me another twenty minutes here. I hug Rocky and return to Martin.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes, fine. Rocky and I play hockey together,” I say.
“Oh. You’re on the Moo U hockey team?” he asks.
“Yes. Do you play hockey too?”
“Well, for sure. I mean, pretty much everyone does back home. But I’m not good enough to play college like you.”
Is he complimenting me? I can’t even tell, which is why I’m better off talking farming than anything personal. I look towards the dance floor and see Noah, with Helen draped all over him. A total player, just as I suspected.
“Umm, do you want to dance?” Martin asks.
“Sure.” I like dancing, and this will make Rocky happy.
“Zee. Thought you didn’t do parties,” Noah calls out to me.
“Guess you don’t know everything.” I channel my inner toddler with Noah, and it’s embarrassing.
The music ends right away. As we stand there awkwardly, Noah detaches himself from Helen and comes over.
“Hey. I’m Noah Goodwin.” He sticks out a hand, and Martin introduces himself.
“Martin, I need to have a word with my girl, Zoe,” Noah says. He leads me off the dance floor.
“Your girl?” It implies a level of intimacy we do not have.
“What do you prefer? The woman I live with? My landlady? My billet mom?”
“Euw. Those are worse.” I glare and wish that he not talk about me at all. “What do you want?”
“I need a ride home,” he says.
“I’m the one who gets to take you home.” Helen has reappeared with a full drink. She’s swaying slightly.
“I don’t think you should be driving,” Noah says.
Helen lifts a finger. “Correct. So you’ll have to sleep over instead.”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “Thanks, but that’s not a good idea. Zoe, let me know when you’re leaving.”
I check my watch. It’s after midnight so Rocky can’t complain. “Now. Probably too early for you, right?”
“Nope. I like to get enough sleep during the season.” He looks over at the bleary Helen. “I guess we better take her home first.”
His level of consideration for Helen surprises me. “Okay, I’m still parked at the arena, so we can drop her on the walk there.”
I say goodbye to Rocky, and Noah shuffles Helen over to the front door.
“Zoe,” a voice calls out. It’s Martin. “Are you going already?”
“Yeah. I live out in Shelburne, so it’s a bit of a drive.”
He swallows. “Well, um, maybe you can give me your contact info. I can send you my mom’s pickle recipe.”
Noah snorts, but I ignore him and exchange numbers with Martin.
“I’m sure Martin has a very impressive pickle.” Noah starts in as soon as we’re outside. Helen is on the other side of him. She’s hanging onto his arm like she’s Tarzan and he’s a vine.
“He’s a farmer. Well, his family has a farm. They’re converting from corn to soybeans.” Stop babbling, Zoe. Gah.
“That’s probably safer. Martin looks a lot like a stalk of corn. Wouldn’t want a farm accident.”
I bite my lip to keep from giggling. Martin is thin and pale, and his light blond hair is unfortunately spiked at the top. “You’re so funny. Not. I do want that recipe. Martin and I have a shared interest in canning.” If I practiced for hours, I could not sound lamer.
“Maybe a shared interest in caning would be more fun?” Noah suggests.
I ignore him. People like to make fun of old-fashioned preserving methods, but when it’s time to eat, they’re happy to enjoy them. And I’m trying hard not to wonder whether Noah has an interest in caning. Yow.
“Do you know how hot you are, Noah?” Helen pipes up.
At least he has the decency to blush. “Uhh, no.”
“It’s true.” Helen blinks at me. “Even Zoe admitted that you’re the hottest guy she’s ever met in real life.”
He grins and winks at me. “Is that a fact?”
“Yeah, and she never finds any guys cute, so…” Helen’s voice trails off before she can embarrass me further.
“I also said you have the biggest ego of anyone I’ve ever met,” I tell him.
“But is it ego if I actually am that wonderful?” Noah asks.
Helen pulls at his jacket. “I have a question. Why do you wear so many clothes? You would look better in less clothes.”
While I agree with Helen in theory, I already know the answer to this one. He’s cold, and it’s only September. By the time it’s January, he’s going to look like the Michelin man.
Noah doesn’t even answer Helen, but she’s undeterred. She yanks on his sleeve until his jacket comes half-off. He swears and tries to get his jacket back, but instead Helen pulls it off completely and totters away, swinging it over her head.
“No good deed goes unpunished,” mutters Noah. While I should be sympathetic, I’m busy being transfixed by the gap of skin revealed at the unbuttoned bottom of his shirt. Is that a happy trail?
Noah notices where I’m looking and swiftly buttons and tucks in his shirt.
“Show’s over,” he says. We’re now at Helen’s place. Noah manages to retrieve his jacket and get Helen safely in her apartment without being further molested. In no time, we’re back in the car and on the road.
“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance for a sleepover,” I say.
“I prefer my partners to be fully conscious.”
I swallow and try to ignore the sudden spark in my lower body. Fully conscious sex with Noah would be both scary and amazing. I can hear Rocky’s words: he’s someone who knows his way around the female body.
“Besides, as ‘the hottest guy in the world’ or whatever you called me, I can afford to be choosy,” he adds.
“I said, ‘the hottest guy I’ve met in real life.’ But as you’ve pointed out, I haven’t been to many places.”
“Still, it’s good to know that you’ve been busy fantasizing about me. You hide your passion so well.” Smirk isn’t adequate to describe the expression on Noah’s face. It’s like two smirks had a baby who then won a smirking contest.
“I would never date someone like you,” I say.
“What am I like?” he asks.
“Conceited. A player. Arrogant. Shallow.” I stop, wondering if I’ve gone too far. Even a guy as confident as Noah might be hurt by a list of his flaws.
Noah laughs scornfully. “You have no clue who I really am.”