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“I can’t believe you’re twenty-four and have never had a Yoo-hoo.” “I’ve never had sex either.”
When I’m away from her, I miss her, and when I’m with her, the world just seems to click into place. I’ve never had that before. I’ve never found a person I want to spend all of my time with.
She feels incredible. She feels right. She feels like everything I’ve been missing in my life. She feels like mine.
“You’re everything, Scout. I waited so long to have something that felt good, something that made me happy and woke me up from the same shit I was doing over and over. It turns out I was waiting for you.”
I’m sure somewhere deep down, Greer is a nice guy—he did help me, after all—but sometimes, no matter how many good deeds someone does, it doesn’t erase their douchebaggery.
“Well, I got candy. Like, a lot of candy, because he said if I got some of the same kind of stuff, it didn’t count as more than one thing.” Of course he said that. “How much is a lot?” “Less than Halloween.” “That’s a terrible unit of measure,” Rosie mutters, and I agree.
I’m getting paid to play hockey—how fucking incredible is that? How could anything get better? It can’t. It’s impossible.
I let my eyes fall closed as I rest my back against my cubby. The all-too-familiar sounds in the room wash over me, and I take slow, deep breaths. It’s kind of like meditation, only there are about ten other dudes in here, it smells like a disgusting locker room, and they have no fucking idea how to shut up.
“I got tickets to see The Lord of the Rings at midnight once. Best night of my life.”
“As if.” “The ’90s called—they want their Valley girl talk back.”
“Nobody throws tomatoes anymore, Greer.” “Too bad. Some people could really use a good tomato to the head.”
“It was a late-night mistake, like eating a pint of ice cream at midnight.” “Pretty sure that was much more satisfying than a pint of ice cream.”
“Best bad decision of my life, even when he drives me crazy, which he often does.”
“How did it feel to get the overtime winner?” Just terrible. I hate winning. “What about that pass from Rhodes? Incredible, huh? Did you practice that?” No. Not at all. We never practice. It’s purely natural talent. “You guys struggled a bit during the second period. Any reason for that?” Because we sucked. No real reason other than simply playing bad hockey when we should have been playing hockier hockey than the other team.
my strawberry obsession is alive and well.
“Right? It should be outlawed unless you’re running from Michael Myers or something. Then I’ll allow it.” “You’d run away from him? I’d run to him.” “But he’s a total psycho killer, Rosie—why would you run to him?” “A psycho killer, sure, but in a hot way. He’s just misunderstood.”
“Sundays are meant for being lazy! That’s, like, a rule!”
“You called him a naughty cute toothless psycho?” “Sort of?” I wince. “It sounds so bad when you say it.” “Yes, because I’m sure it didn’t sound bad at all when you said it.”
I’m not one of those people who watch the game just for the fights. Hockey is entertaining in other ways too, but I’d be a damn liar if I said seeing the guys dropping gloves doesn’t make my lady bits tingle in all the right ways.
“Dude, if you’re going to die, do it quietly, huh?”
The reason I keep night-lights in every room is because I’m scared of the dark. I mean, Carl isn’t the biggest fan, but she’s got that cool crazy cat vision. I don’t and am totally afraid a monster is going to reach out and grab my leg and drag me away to hell. When I go on the road, I take a night-light with me and plug it in. I tell everyone Miller does it to make myself feel better, but he doesn’t. It’s all me.”
“Her bread is right. I have Carl bread, and I have people bread.” It’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard, and possibly the cutest.
“I listen to a lot of audiobooks on plane rides. Not sure if that counts.” “Audiobooks totally count as reading. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” “Well, that’s good to know. I’m at least halfway to my personal pan pizza, then.”
