Page 47 of Scoring Lessons

I gripped his forearm when he tried to walk away. A small chortle slipped out of me. I guessed it was my turn to commit to character. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Wesley’s my roommate.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyes shone with interest. “He sounds like a handsome guy,” he commented casually. God, he was an idiot.

“I don’t know about handsome.” I made a show of scrunching my pierced nose. “He’s kind of annoying,” I said through a knowing grin. “The ego on that man? Ooof.”

The server dropped our drinks, and he grabbed mine and handed it to me. “Yeah? Well, he sounds like a catch.” He wiggled his eyebrows, not a bit bothered by my comment.

I played with the cocktail straw of my drink as I gave him a reassuring nod. “I’ll be sure to tell him that. He loves a good ego boost.”

He thinned his lips to suppress his laugh. “Enough about him. Tell me, Olivia, what do you do?”

“I’m an athletic trainer for a hockey team.”

“Oh, yeah? What team?”

“Chicago Strikers.”

He nodded, visibly impressed. “They’re a solid team. Have you been working there long?”

I didn’t know why I was following along, but with every word we spoke, I began to relax.

“I started working for them this season. I used to work for the New York Jaguars.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

It was cut in a taper fade. The longer blond strands on top were falling just right, giving him that effortless, careless look that was distinctively his. His haircut looked fresh, and my chest flipped at the thought that he probably got it because we were going out tonight. Even though this dumb date was to help me, he put in the effort. And for that, I was grateful. I had the sudden urge to rake my hands over it. But I knew better than to try.

“How are you liking Chicago?” he asked.

“I love it.” The words came out easily.

It was the truth. I loved being near my brother. I loved working for the team. I even enjoyed living with him.

Shocking, I know.

“I have family here, and I’m starting to make friends. And to be honest, New York was kind of lonely,” I continued.

His eyes widened as they snapped to mine in genuine surprise.

I’d forgotten we were role-playing, and the confession felt right to say out loud. I bet it was surprising for him to see me being this open. But I inhaled a deep breath, willing my mind to put itself together. I needed to put a stop to it before I said too much.

“Enough about me,” I added, sounding a bit chipper now. “What do you do, Elliot?” Saying his fake name out loud pulled a grin out of me.

“I’m a teacher,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Yeah? What grade?” I asked, curious to know how far he was willing to take this role play. He was too good at it.

“High school. Math.”

I propped my elbow on my knee then let my chin rest on the palm of my hand. My hair slipped forward in a messy curtain, but it hardly mattered, because I was enthralled by whatever game this was. “That sounds tough.”

“Not tougher than dealing with hockey players who probably complain about pain all the time, I’m sure.”

“Yeah”—I snorted a dry laugh—“you’re not wrong about that. Some of them love to whine.”

He shot me a once-over. “You look like you enjoy making them suffer.”

My shrug was nonchalant, my tone turning raspier. “Maybe.”