“Well, I haven’t started the next book yet.” I swirl the noodles around in my bowl before taking a mouthful. Chewing is easier than talking.
“You haven’t? What’s going on? I mean, I thought it was weird for you to not mention it, but …”
“Honestly, I’m tired. Tired of dating and writing about tropes. I miss the days when I could just write what I wanted. Sweet romances that filled readers’ hearts with joy. You once asked if it was worth it, and I said it was. That I was happy to be getting out and meeting new people, but I’m not sure my emotions can take this roller-coaster ride for much longer.”
“That makes sense. Honestly, I give you credit for not throwing in the towel after that last debacle.”
“Yeah, that was bad. Of all the guys, that one hurt the most. But I’m tough.” I flex a bicep for good measure, grunting.
He only shakes his head, snickering at me. “Whatever you say, Valentine. But you can’t break your contract either.”
“This is true, which is why I really need to start on the next project. That’s why I went to happy hour with Hayley. We picked the next trope.”
“You sound unhappy.”
“Not unhappy. Just not looking forward to having to learn about hockey.”
To my surprise, his eyes light up. “It’s a hockey book? I know all about hockey. I love hockey. Did I ever tell you I used to play?”
“No, you didn’t. I had no idea.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard me yelling at the games over here before.”
“I’ve heard yelling, yeah, but I never knew what you were yelling at.”
“So, what, you don’t know anything about the sport?”
“I know there’s a puck and ice involved.”
“Well, that’s a start.” A smile plays over his lips as he picks up the remote and flips on the TV. It’s hooked up to the internet, so it takes no time for him to pull up videos from various games.
“I didn’t mean for this to turn into a lesson.”
“I don’t mind—unless you have something else you would rather be doing.”
The sad part is, I don’t. Even though he’s sick and I’m deliberately keeping my distance and even though spending time with him isn’t so great for my mental health since all I can do is question everything that comes out of his mouth anymore, I would still rather be here than across the hall, staring at a blank page on a computer screen.
“Well, if you think you’re up to it.”
The next thing I know, we’re watching snippets of one game after another with Matt explaining the technique and skill behind what looks to me like a bunch of guys batting a puck around on the ice.
“When do they start fighting?”
He laughs, which unfortunately turns into a coughing fit. “You do realize, fighting isn’t actually part of the game, right?” he asks after he can breathe again.
“Of course, but isn’t it always more interesting when they do?”
It’s like they heard me somehow. Suddenly, two players start throwing fists, and the crowd absolutely loses their mind while referees do their best to break things up. By the time it’s finished, I’m wincing.
I’m supposed to date somebody who might be involved in something like that? I’m not sure my heart could handle it. Do I really have to even date a hockey player? Maybe we could just be friends and hang out, and I could interview players. I mean, sex is sex. I can come up with that, right?
Noticing my pensive look, Matt turns to me. “I’m sure whoever you end up with, he will be more than happy to explain the finer points to you.”
KEEP READING Kitty Valentine dates a Hockey Player