I put my phone away. It buzzes again in my pocket, but this time, I ignore it and look at the crowd of people buzzing around the trading cards. I never understood why people collect things, but these people seem to have formed a community around their interests and I definitely see the appeal in that.
Chapter Nine
Mitch
I keep staring at my phone, thinking maybe I’ll find a response from Misty, but nope. She ghosted me. The fact that she’d erased my number doesn’t surprise me, but I have to admit it does sting a little. I know I messed things up with her. I just wish she’d move past it and give me another chance. As I remember what Dylan said about her not dating athletes, I set my phone down with a sigh. There’s no denying that it’s because of our history, but maybe she’s willing to try again. I pick up my phone and text her again.
We’re having a get together on the rooftop. You should go up there when you get here.
I hit send and sit back in my bean bag chair for two seconds before getting up and getting my ass in gear. We weren’t having a get together at all, but we are now. I walk over to Dylan’s room and knock on his door.
“We’re having a get together tonight,” I shout, knowing he probably has earbuds in. “Invite some people.”
“Tell Rodney to get his DJ equipment out,” Dylan calls out.
I walk toward Rodney’s room, across from the living room, and knock on his door. Before I have a chance to say anything, he opens the door.
“Party?”
“Get together,” I say.
“With DJ equipment?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Talk to your boy about that.” I shrug. “Besides, you know the girls like it when you DJ.”
“That’s because you get to show off your dance skills. Swinging your hips and doing all your Rico Suave moves.” He rolls his eyes.
“Hey, it’s not my fault I have that Caribbean flavor.”
“Right.” He chuckles and walks toward the kitchen. “Do we even have any alcohol?”
“We should have a beer or two,” I say. “I’ll go grab some stuff after I change.”
“It’s a good thing Coach canceled practice tomorrow.” Rodney opens the fridge. “Yeah, we have two left. Definitely not enough for a rager.”
“This is not a rager. It’s a get together,” I say again, though we both know every single one of our get togethers start out small and get bigger by the second. “On second thought, I’m going to grab the beers and vodka before I change.”
“Just go down the street. They have beer and that fruity seltzer water people like.”
“Yeah.” I grab my keys and head out.
On my way to the store, I check my phone again. Still nothing from Misty. I shake it off and call my brother instead.
“Yo,” Maverick says upon answering.
“Yo. We’re having a get together tonight if you want to stop by.”
“Another one?” He yawns. “I just got home from the gym. I’m beat, bro. I’m waiting for Rocky to get home. It’s her turn to make dinner.”
I laugh. “Is it ever your turn to make dinner?”
“I made dinner last night.”
“You made it or Mom sent you Uber Eats?”
“Fuck you.” He chuckles.
“Just come over with Rocky. They canceled practice for us tomorrow.”
He pauses. “Damn. Does it have something to do with the investigation?”
“They didn’t say. Have you heard anything?”
“Nope. My guys are clean.”
“None of the hockey players were involved?” I frown.
“Nope. Only baseball, football, and some basketball, but not many. Mostly football.”
“Shit.” I exhale. “Have you spoken to Jag?”
“Yeah, earlier. He hasn’t done any interviews and it’s staying that way for the foreseeable future. He says he doesn’t know what’s going on any more than we do.”
“Bullshit. Those are his boys. He was with them all the time.” I park in front of the liquor store.
“I’m going to go visit this weekend if you wanna come with. Misty’s coming along as well.”
“Misty?” I blink. “You talk to her?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?” My voice erupts into something that sounds possessive even to my own ears, but I can’t double down now. Besides, I don’t want to. The last thing I need is for my brother to get between me and Misty, not that he would knowingly.
“Relax.” Mav chuckles. “She’s going to visit Jo this weekend and I wanted to see Jag. Rocky’s coming too.”
“Rocky, huh? Are you finally coming around to the fact that you’re in love with her?”
“I’m not . . . “ He lowers his voice. “She just got home. I gotta go.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Hey, Mitch,” he calls out as I’m about to hang up.
“Yeah?”
“She doesn’t date athletes,” he says, “Misty. She’s totally against dating an athlete.”
“She told you that?”
“Her friend did. I was wearing my hockey uniform when I ran into them and I guess she thought I was trying to put the moves on Misty.”
“Were you?”
“No.” He laughs again. “She’s like a sister to me.”
“So was Rocky and here we are.”
“Shut up.” He groans. “I’m trying to help you out here. She doesn’t want to date an athlete.”
“We’ll see. Count me in for the trip.”
“Okay.” Mav’s voice is full of amusement.
I hang up and toss my phone in the passenger seat, shutting my eyes as I lay my head against the headrest. When I let Misty go the first time, I did it because it was the right thing to do, but I always assumed we’d get back together with her when my life was sorted out, when it wasn’t so chaotic. I hadn’t planned for her to be so opposed to the idea of dating an athlete. Or me.
Chapter Ten
Misty
I expected loud music in their apartment, but it’s pretty quiet as I walk into mine. When I shut the door and walk to the living room, I hear music though, and realize I’ll probably hear it all night. It’s fine. I can deal with that. Mitch’s invitation was a surprise, but after considering it I reached the conclusion that it wasn’t a good idea. A part of me wants to go and call it research, but I know him. He’ll start flirting with me and then I’ll get upset and wish I’d never gone at all. My muscles are aching from today’s workout and the only thing I want to do right now is shower, put on my lounging clothes, have a glass of wine, and relax, so that’s what I set out to do.
I’m scrolling social media and on my third glass of wine when the doorbell rings. With a sigh, I set my phone down and walk over, taking the money I set on the counter with me so that I can tip the delivery boy. I hadn’t intended to order pizza tonight, but after my first glass of wine it seemed like a good idea and now I’m definitely glad I did. I open the door and blink at Mitchell, who’s standing on the other side, with his left forearm pressed against the doorframe, showing off his toned arm in that short-sleeved polo shirt he’s wearing. My pulse quickens at the gorgeous view. I shoo it away.