Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I ordered when I was hungry,” she says, coming over and grabbing an egg roll to pop into her mouth. I open the containers and grab the spoons she brought and put them in each each one. “I swear I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry.”
“Did you not eat lunch?” I ask her, grabbing my own plate and putting food in it. “Did you work today?” I ask her, taking in her yoga pants and top. She’s always dressed up.
“Yeah, I had a meeting this morning but then worked from home,” she tells me, grabbing her own plate and then looking up at the television.
“Why are you watching this?” she asks me, and I just shrug. We don’t like hockey. It’s a known fact we go to the games for the food and to drink. We watch it only when forced to and only if our family is on the ice.
“I just turned it on, and it was this,” I tell her between bites. I look at the screen when I hear Evan’s last name. Seeing him skating on the ice, I follow him with my eyes as he skates over the blue line. It looks like it’s two on two. He passes over to the guy on the other side, and the goalie follows the puck sliding across. Except the guy just slaps it back to Evan. He is already winding up for a one timer, and the goalie doesn’t have enough time to get back before it sails past him.
“Whoa, that was a nice play,” I say and watch him skate to the board and point at his teammate with a huge smile on his face. My sister is looking at me with her mouth opened.
“What the fuck did you just say?” she asks me, almost whispering. “Were you watching hockey and liking it?” She puts her plate down, and I just smile. “Oh my God. What’s going on?” she says, getting up and looking around the room. “Am I being punked? Is that it?”
“I was just saying it was a good play.” I pick up the remote and turn it while he skates to the bench and high-fives his teammates. “What do you want to watch?”
“Have you spoken to him?” she asks me and puts her hands on her hips. I try to lie to her, or at least, I attempt to by just shaking my head. But she knows me because she is half of me. “Pinky?”
Since we were four, we always said pinky if we were telling the truth. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Zar. Have you spoken to him?” I put my plate down and turn to her.
“I called him yesterday, or he called me, actually,” I tell her the truth. “But it was to talk about the wedding.” It’s a half-truth, and she sees it because now her hands go from her hips to cross over her chest. At times like these, I really hate that she knows me so well. “He’s taking me out tomorrow.”
“What?” she shrieks. “Spill.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “There really isn’t anything to say. He said I’m going to Jersey, so let’s go out and talk about the wedding.”
“So it’s a date?” she asks me the same question I’ve been asking myself all day long.
“No,” I say, and my tongue almost feels heavier. “It’s a meeting!”
“Where are you meeting him?” she asks me, and I just shrug.
“I have no idea. I’m assuming he is going to text me tomorrow with the details.” I pick up my plate again.
“He’s driving in from Jersey to have dinner with you?” She comes back over. “What are you going to wear?”
“I have no idea,” I tell her honestly. “Can we just talk about something else?”
“For now,” she says, “but all bets are off tomorrow night.”
I don’t say anything. I just watch the television, and for the rest of the night, the only thing going through my head is this meeting/date I have tomorrow night.
Chapter Six
Evan
The buzzer rings, letting us know that the third period is over. I jump over the board from the bench and skate over to Jari to get in line to congratulate him on the victory.
“Good game.” I knock my helmet to his goalie one.
“Nice one timer,” he says, and I laugh and skate to the center ice, and the team raises their sticks to the applause of the fans who remain. I get off the ice, and the celebration is already underway when I sit down at my spot. Unsnapping my helmet, I take it off and set it next to me.
The door closes, and the coach comes in. “You guys did good out there,” he starts, and I am already taking off my skates and grabbing my slides. Everyone else is also undressing. “You guys are getting caught up in the neutral zone, and I don’t like it.” No one says anything because he’s right. “The bus leaves for the airport in one hour. We’ll land at two a.m. local time. Tomorrow is an off day, so rest up.” He nods to us and walks out of the room, leaving the door open and giving the journalists time to come in and ask questions.