Absolutely Not in Love (Sweater Weather, #7; Appies, #2)

by Jenny Proctor

“Hey, Felix,” Eli calls from across the locker room. “You up for dinner?” With practice over, the locker room has mostly cleared out by now, though that’s typical. I tend to take my time showering. I don’t mind hanging out with the guys, so I’m not avoiding them on purpose. But let’s just say I don’t mind the quiet, either. Eli and our newest team member, Logan, who just dropped down from the NHL to work through some bad press after an altercation with a fan, are the only two guys still around. Eli’s company is tolerable enough, and I like Logan, but dinner? I pull on my hoodie, buying myself a few extra seconds to deliberate. I already had dinner with a few teammates once this week. That feels like a pretty solid effort. It’s a careful balance. If I yield to my first impulse, I’ll go home to my empty apartment, eat in silence, then spend the night reading and relaxing on my own. But I’m self-aware enough—read: I’ve been to enough therapy—to realize that if I ever want to have more in my life, I won’t find it living like a recluse. So I go out with my teammates. Have dinner with friends. Make a conscious effort to interact with my community. And I’m not doing half bad. I’ve been with the Appies going on two years, and my teammates feel like friends as much as they do fellow players. And Harvest Hollow has grown on me. I have favorite restaurants, a preferred place to grab coffee. I even know people who aren’t on my hockey team, which is saying something, considering how mu...