Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I laugh at him. "Is that what we should do?" I tell him, instead of asking what I want to ask, which is when was the last time you had sex. Not that it matters, but has he had sex after me?
"We should." He nods, taking a piece of pineapple. "Favorite color."
"Pink," I say and look at him. "You?"
"I don’t really have one, but I guess I like green." I shrug.
"Interesting. I would have gone with blue," I reply. "If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?"
"Easy, pasta," he says. "Hands down, you can have pasta every single day."
"Do you cook?" I ask him, and he nods his head. "What is the best thing you know how to cook?"
"It’s not your turn." He points his chopsticks at me, and I roll my eyes at him. "It’s your turn to answer what you would eat."
"Pizza," I say now. "It has everything. Carbs, sauce, meat, and cheese. It’s a win-win for everyone."
"Favorite vacation spot?” he asks, and I put the container down.
"The beach," I say, "with crystal blue water. You?" I look at him.
"I like the beach as long as I’m not interrupted." He puts his container down and picks up another one. "But I also love just getting away from it all. Renting an RV and stopping when I want. Not talking to anyone."
"Have you actually ever done that?" I ask, and he laughs.
"No, but it’s something that I want to do. I think I’m going to do it at the end of this season," he says, and I want to ask who he is going to do it with.
"They rent RVs," I tell him. "There is this place in California where you can stay in an RV, and all you see is the sand."
"Really?" he asks, and I nod.
"I saw pictures of it a couple of months ago," I tell him, and he takes out his phone. "What are you doing?"
"Making a note to check it out," he says and puts his phone away. “Okay, your question."
"What makes you angry?" I ask, and he looks over at me.
"When people assume they know me," he answers without thinking twice. "Everyone thinks they know me because I play hockey, but no one really knows anything about me.”
"No one?" I say, swallowing. I don’t know why I was expecting something else.
"I can say without a doubt that not one person knows all of me," he confirms, and just the way he says it, I’m sad for him. Sad that he has no one he could talk to. "What about you? What makes you angry?"
"People thinking I got this job because of my family," I tell him something I haven’t told anyone.
"How did you get the job?" he asks me, his voice soft.
"Because I worked my ass off," I tell him, my voice getting just a touch louder. "Because I paid my dues and did what I needed to do."
"So, then, fuck ’em," he says. "Do you think you deserve to be in your position?"
"I do, without a shadow of a doubt, I deserve this position."
"Then all you have to do is show the haters." He puts down his chicken. "If you show them how much you kick ass, they won’t be able to come back with an argument."
"That’s good advice." I smile. "You going to take the advice yourself?" He laughs now. "Stop throwing punches and put some points under your name."
"I’m working on it." He smirks. "It’s a work in progress." He leans back in his chair. "Okay, whose turn is it?"
"If you could have a meal with one person, who would it be?" I ask.
"Well, you, obviously," he says with a smirk, and I roll my eyes. "Also, I’m not sure I want to answer that question."
"Why?" I ask, my interest piqued. "Tell me."
"It’s weird," he says, and I just laugh at him.
"Weirder than showing up at my office with a hundred pounds of Chinese food?" I joke with him. His chest moves, and all of a sudden, a picture of him over me pops into my head. I blink away the memory and look at him. "Come on. I promise to never repeat it." I put my hand up. "This whole conversation will be our secret."
"Ugh," he says, rolling his head back, and then he looks at me. "Okay, fine, Cooper Stone," he says, and I open my mouth. "The OG."
I laugh at him. "See, that is why I didn’t want to say anything." He points at me. "Because it’s weird."
"It’s not weird," I tell him. "And we are all used to it."
"When he came into the dressing room when Cooper was traded over, I swear to God I thought I would faint." He holds up his hand, and I can’t help but laugh even harder. "Whatever."