Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Now, I can’t do anything but watch him leave. A part of me says to run after him, but angry jocks were a nightmare to navigate back in high school and college, and I think it’s scarred me from ever trying to rationalize with a raging meathead.
“You think Ollie’s a talentless pigeon?” Damon asks.
My gaze breaks away from Ollie’s retreating ass and meets the gaze of another raging meathead, albeit a retired jock.
“You wrote that? Not cool,” Noah says. “Wait, what’s a pigeon?”
Damon continues to glare at me. “Someone who isn’t good enough to score goals on his own and takes advantage of their teammate’s skill.”
“I did not say that,” I argue.
I never said he was talentless. If anything, he has enough talent to be huge. While his stats are impressive, he could be one of the biggest contenders in the league.
“If we want to get technical, I said a trade would be beneficial for him so he could get out of Boston because his talent was being overshadowed by Novak. I thought hockey players had thick skin?”
Damon sighs. “Nah, just thick skulls. I’ll go talk to him.”
Noah remains with a knowing look on his face. “You didn’t tell him who you were, did you?”
I adjust my glasses, which don’t need adjusting, and don’t answer. I usually wear contacts, but I ran out and haven’t had a chance to order more since coming to New York, so I’m all self-conscious about being my nerdy self again.
“You’d think you would’ve learned your lesson after me,” Noah says. “I would’ve kicked your ass if Damon let me.”
When I met Noah in a bar, I hit on him and tried to get a scoop about his now husband. It backfired, but it’s how we became friends.
“I won’t print anything he said,” I reassure Noah.
“I know that, but Ollie won’t. He’s probably freaking out right now. What did he say to make him run out of here?”
I sip my drink. “Nothing, really.” Except, you know, outed himself to me and didn’t know I was a reporter. “Hockey is exhausting is probably the worst thing he said. No one would care about that.”
Noah’s eyes narrow, and I wonder if he knows I’m lying.
“How’re things in Chicago?” I ask, changing the subject.
Noah knows it but placates me anyway. “Windy.”
“I miss it already.”
I could be in New York for a few months if the Dragons make the playoffs. They’re only one win away from cinching their spot, and if they manage to do it, I’ll be following them to each of their games. I think my boss is hoping for a Cinderella ending—the underdog story of the year. However, from my research, I’ve learned the Dragons are known for cracking under pressure, so I’m not entirely sure my stay in New York will be long.
“While you’re here, I can hook you up with Matt’s brother,” Noah says. “He’ll be able to get you into clubs and all that shit. I’d do it myself, but Matt and I are going on a much-needed vacation next week.”
“Sounds great.” Totally lying. I’d rather stab my eyes out with a pen. I’m not the clubbing type. Nothing is a faster boner killer for guys than me doing the robot.
“Where are you staying?” Noah asks.
“The cheapest hotel the magazine could find. It’s above a Chinese restaurant, somehow smells like Indian food, and it still costs a fortune.”
We have a budget for travel expenses, but I’m still paying out of pocket. The only other option was to stay in Jersey, and I didn’t want to do that commute.
“You should come stay at our place. Save the magazine some money. I doubt Jet would mind having a roommate while we’re gone.”
“You do realize I could be here until the end of the hockey playoffs, right? That’s three months.”
He grabs my shoulder. “After what you did for us, we owe you.”
Did for them? All I did was keep my word that I wouldn’t print anything about his and Matt’s personal problems. I don’t want to be that kind of reporter.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Come by whenever.”
“Thanks. I might take you up on that. I’m paid up until the end of the week, but after that, I’m all yours.”
“Done,” Noah says. “And one last question. You’re not going to torment Ollie, are you? I haven’t seen a guy run away from someone faster.”
“No. I’ll apologize for not telling him who I was. Hopefully, start over.”
“Are you going to apologize for writing all that pigeon stuff? You say you didn’t mean it offensively, but it’s pretty clear he took offense.”
“I still maintain my article was favorable.”
“You’re so fucked,” Noah says. “You haven’t been around professional athletes much, have you?”
Well, no, I haven’t. I’m usually in the press box at games and in the pit at press conferences. Mass interviews, mass answers, and nothing personal. I’m never given the opportunity to ask a question. There are bigger magazines and outlets that get priority. Like Sports Illustrated and Fox Sports.