The Puck Drop by Jaqueline Snowe

CHAPTER TWO

Naomi

My entire face burned after running into—literally—the guy named Reiner. His stare was so intense that my nervous system threatened to strike, and my rational, linear mind went AWOL. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen, and the tattoos covering his arms...I wanted to file each one away and study them like a spreadsheet. The dark blue color of his eyes was a mixture of the ocean and navy, and the way the Central State shirt fit him? The dude was buff.

Very fit.

Hockey playing fit.

Ugh.

My fingers twitched at the thought of sending a picture of him to my roommates. We could hang him up on the wall right in our kitchen just to stare at him every day. Totally appropriate idea to have right now.

“Come on, I need a drink.” My dad grunted as he squeezed into a booth, manspreading so the hot hockey player and I got squished to one side. I went in first, holding my breath to not inhale Renier’s clean scent, and pressed myself against the wall.

I had so many questions, most of them having to do with the great-smelling, gorgeous guy scooting next to me. Like, why was my heart hammering in my ribcage? I was logical. I knew he was attractive, but boy howdy, his body made my insides go wild. I tensed when his thigh hit mine, but he gave no indication that my touch bothered him. I swore I could feel his warmth spread through his jeans and into my very soul.

Reiner relaxed and leaned his elbows onto the table, and it took all my effort not to ogle him. Which, in a way, was uncharacteristic of me. I liked nerds. Skinny, unathletic guys who listened to hipster music and drank cold brew. The guys who hung out in the library and got excited over a used book sale. Growing up with a dad who coached hockey and a twin sister who flirted with all of the players, I stayed clear.

Plus, the one fucking time I tried dating a muscle-head, the dude played me.

So, calm down libido. I cleared my throat, adjusted my leg so it didn’t rest against Reiner’s, and narrowed my eyes at my father. “You asked me to meet you at Logan’s to talk about the...thing. This guy’s here too. Why?”

The thing in question was doing stats for the Wolves and completing my junior data analysis project on the results. Our junior class was competitive and boring—as my advisor so kindly put it, I needed to stand out if I wanted to earn an internship next summer.What better way than to combine my ingrained knowledge of hockey with data sets? Plus, maybe it’d help my dad see that we had something in common. I’d been trying to get even a sliver of his attention for years, but I always came in second place to hockey. My insides twisted up with bitterness. The missed quiz bowls. The birthday dinner he forgot about, even though he made it up to my twin sister. Despite being twenty-one, the baggage he created still caused a punch to the gut.

“Always to the point. That’s Naomi for you.” My dad’s face warmed for a second, and he raised his fingers into the air, signaling the bartender. The woman made a beeline for us so fast she stumbled, the stars in her eyes shining a bit too bright. “Hey, darling. Could we get three 312s, please?”

“Sure thing, Coach.” She curtsied before she strutted away, which made me roll my eyes. I hated this shit. It was ridiculous how people put hockey players on a pedestal—even my dad, a middle-aged man with a bit of a belly and eyebrows that seemed to have a life of their own.  They were just people who excelled at sports. I was great at spreadsheets and pivot tables, yet there were no fans wanting my signature.

Which was a shame. Data analysts could do some pretty cool things.

“Naomi,” my dad said, his stern tone telling me he saw my reaction. We both knew my thoughts on how people treated hockey players like royalty.

I raised my hands in surrender, and my face heated. Cami was a dancer at Central and seemed to get all the athletic and charismatic genes from my dad. They watched football together and had inside jokes that left them heaving with laughter. Everything I said or did around my dad made me self-conscious, yet I couldn’t seem to stop the continuous eye-rolls when people acted weird about my father’s profession.

“Sorry.”

He leaned back into his seat and looked between me and Reiner. “Thanks for both coming here. As Reiner so kindly said, this first drink is on me.”

“As it should be,” Reiner replied with an easy lilt I envied. They were already buds. How fitting.

My dad slapped the table and laughed. “You two are going to be spending time together as my interns.”

Reiner snapped his head in my direction, and his brows furrowed as his tongue wet his bottom lip. I had to squeeze my thighs together to avoid reacting to that movement. That little dip of his tongue had me wild.

“What are you interning for?” he asked, the deep timbre of his voice making me brush my hair out of my face. Guys didn’t find me attractive—that was all Cami. She was long legs and sleek hair and curves and beauty.

I was...not. I was messy buns and ripped jeans, small boobs and zero coordination. I liked murder podcasts and 90s alt radio. I was under no illusions that Reiner would ever actually date me, but the fact he let me use him to get Gage off my back made him all the more appealing.“Data.”

“Data,” he repeated, making the word sound sinful. “What type?”

“Excellent question, Reiner. She’s going to help with stats for the year, and as my intern, I want you to listen to the reports and make recommendations to me. How would you, as a future coach, use data to make decisions?”

“Sir, no offense, but stats are just one small piece of what makes a great team.”

My stomach tightened like I was preparing for war. In a way, I was. Data was my version of hockey. “Excuse me, but data is transformational.”

“Stats don’t show the whole picture.”

“Then you’re not using them correctly,” I fired back, my lungs heaving at the confrontation. Reiner frowned and ran a hand over the back of his neck, really making the bicep bulge. It wasn’t even fair.

Thank god the bartender returned with the drinks, spilling some all over her hand as she set them down in front of my dad. I didn’t even roll my eyes once.

Point to me.

“Thanks, doll,” my dad said, his attention already back on Reiner. “No one piece of data defines a player, sure, but trends are telling. Common themes. Errors. Matchups. This will be a weekly assignment for both of you.”

“I have to report my findings to him?” I asked, the edge of my tone more intense than planned. My chest tightened. Well, there went my shot at a real relationship with my dad. Not the awkward holiday hugs and catch-up we seemed to do despite living in the same town. My mom’s new husband and three kids kept her busy, and my dad was married to his job, and through it all...I kinda got forgotten. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, annoyed that Reiner threw a wrench in my plan. “I’m not going to be working with you?”

“You will, but you’ll meet with him weekly.”

“Why?” I asked, not caring that my unhappiness was clear.

“Because it benefits all three of us.” My dad took a long swig of the beer and groaned at something on the TV. “Fuck, I put twenty down on Ohio winning.”

“Oh, bad move.” Reiner craned his neck to stare at the screen and whistled. “Their offense has been struggling.”

Football talk. Of course. For a niche geek like me, this was a slow form of torture. Why couldn’t we talk about true crime? Or 90s movies? I could rattle on about those topics for days. Weeks, if needed.

I had the urge to kick them both in the shin. Maybe this was why my dad got along so well with Cami. Hell, this was why Gage wanted my sister after I didn’t put out. I was geeky and not an athlete in any sense of the word. I preferred iframes over the ice. That meant I was a weirdo in my family.

The brief connection I thought I had with Reiner when he put his arm around the barstool earlier slowly evaporated.  The more him and my father gabbed about football and rankings and all things I didn’t find interesting, the more I pulled away. It was Thursday night, and a new episode of MARRIAGE, MURDER, AND MYSTERIES dropped, a crime podcast I loved. My roommates had strict instructions to not play it until I got back, and if this was going to be sportstalk, it was time to go.

“Excuse me, I’ll just head out,” I said, doing the awkward stand to try and exit the booth.

Reiner’s large, warm body blocked me though. I tapped his shoulder, and he spun to face me again. Those damn blue eyes and long lashes were a real distraction. I blinked and focused on his nose. It was slightly crooked and probably the only imperfect thing about him.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“You leaving already? You barely touched your beer,” my dad said, frowning as he looked at the glass and back to me. “We never talked about schedules.”

“I’ll be at every game and report to Reiner, right?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, blinking a few times and giving me that look. The one where he pressed his lips together and his eyes clouded. It was the how are you my kid expression I’d seen all my life, and it hurt. Every single time. My chest felt too tight, like a balloon wedged in there, and my face flushed with shame.

“Then I’ll see you at the games next weekend. Opening the season on the road,” he said, disappointment dripping from his voice as per usual.

Reiner watched with his mouth slightly parted and a little line between his eyebrows. He probably figured I was a total flake, but it was better he knew now that I wasn’t a sports girl.

Reiner took his time getting out of the booth, but I couldn’t fault him for that. His massive frame and muscles were probably hard to move around. God knows, I got tired just by looking at his biceps.

“Thanks,” I said, ignoring how my skin tingled when our arms brushed. “What time should I get on the bus?”

“We’re leaving at noon. Friday.”

“Great. See you then.” I didn’t look back and waved over my shoulder as I left the bar. My feet felt heavier than normal, like two cement blocks, and I hated how my eyes prickled with emotion.

The opportunity to work with my dad had gotten passed off to Reiner. The guy who already had a rapport with my dad in a way I never did. They laughed, they joked, and they had the easy-breezy banter I’d always wanted with my dad. I took a deep breath of the leftover humid air. Despite the midwestern summer changing to fall, the heat stuck around for a bit in October, and it warmed my skin.

I fired off a quick text to my roommates that I was heading back just as a familiar laugh caught my attention. Loud, cute, Cami. My stomach dropped like I was falling through frozen ice on a lake. Damn it. If my sister saw me—

“Naomi! Hey, hey!” Cami spoke in a singsong way that tended to charm even the grumpiest person. Seeing her familiar face sent a ripple of hurt through me. I missed my sister. The girl who had my back no matter what growing up. The girl who punched Peter J in sixth grade for me. The girl who would never hurt me.

We’d changed though. Life did that to people.  She was now the girl who slept with the guys I was dating. How could I ever get over that?

She waved her hand in the air, causing all the bracelets on her arm to jingle.

I gritted my teeth together and forced a light-lipped smile as my sister approached me. She wore a tight CENTRAL dance shirt, all sequined out in orange, and bright red lipstick. While my hair was straight and often in a bun, hers was down and curly. Just looking at her made me feel less put together. She was the wild, pretty twin.

I was the nerd.

“Look at you in your cute as hell shirt and shorts.” She laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulders in an awkward hug. She smelled like expensive perfume.

“What? No.” I scoffed and eyed my ripped jean shorts and shirt that said I have a spreadsheet for that. Not cute.

She grinned at me, her familiar features the same and yet so different than mine. “I love it. Seriously.” Her face warmed, but her attention moved to someone inside the bar. She jutted her chin toward the door. “Want to grab a drink with me?  I don’t have to be at the party for another hour.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, taking a step back. “I gotta go. My roommates are waiting for me to start the episode of our murder podcast. You know how it is,” I said, desperate to leave. Lilly, Mona, and Kellie would talk me through this and help me come up with talking points because while I needed to confront my sister, hard conversations weren’t my forte. At all.

She stared at me a beat, her eyes flashing with hurt, and it pissed me off. She slept with Gage! While I was with him! She was the favorite daughter! She could have anything in the world and chose to go after the first guy I dated after my terrible break up last year. My throat felt like I’d swallowed an entire bag of cotton balls, and I took off.

Attending the same school as my sister where my dad coached seemed like an okay idea three years ago. Now, it brought a storm cloud whenever I saw them.

I could graduate in a year and eight months and be done with them. I just had to nail this final project. Even if it meant working with the guy who made my pulse race.