She starts kissing my neck, and my anger boils over. Because this is my career we’re talking about. Jensen is watching me. My NHL draft team is watching me. If I want to play in the pros and succeed there, I can’t be making out with some girl while the rest of my teammates are warming up for practice. “Thank you for the ride,” I say tightly. “Now move.” All right, that was harsh. But the last thread of my patience has snapped like a cheap elastic band. First she changes my alarm, and now she won’t let me get out of the car? I’m done here.
