“Bitch, I’m as old as you are,” I tell her. “How much lube do you have to use?” And the minute I ask that, Allison, Zara, and Zoe all groan. “Please, all this sex talk has got me hot and bothered. I’m going back for more wine.” Then I look at Allison. “I’ll bring you something stronger.”

I walk away and smile at Matthew and Cooper who are sitting on the stool watching the game. “Do you want something to drink?” I ask them when I pass by them, and they both shake their heads at me.

I walk to the bar and then look up at the television screen when I hear booing and see that the other team scored. Mark picks up his mask and grabs the water bottle on top of the net and squirts some into his mouth while he watches the replay on the jumbotron. “Okay, maybe next week I’ll stop thinking of him,” I tell myself. “Maybe, just maybe.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mark

“That was a nice win,” my brother says to me when I walk out of the locker room an hour after the game. It was a clusterfuck at the beginning, almost like I had shaky legs. Luckily, I got back into the zone, and we pulled off a win. “I was afraid I would have to take off my jersey,” he jokes, and my mother hits him in the stomach.

“Hush, would you? He was under enough stress,” she hisses, then hugs me. “You were great.”

“Oh, please,” Chris says, rolling his eyes. My father shoves him, and he laughs.

“You were shaky,” my father says, “in the beginning, but then you got better.” He was never the dad who told me that everything I did was perfect. No, he pointed out what I did wrong and then what I did good.

“Are you hungry?” my mother asks, and I look behind to see Evan, Matthew, and Max walk out together.

“Hey,” Matthew says, coming to us. He walks over to my mother and kisses her on the cheeks, then shakes hands with my father and my brother. “Are you guys coming to the party?”

Chris laughs now. “Private Mark doesn’t do parties. He does the quiet supper after the game.”

“See you tomorrow,” Matthew says to me. “Good game out there.” I nod to them, and they take off toward the party.

“So where do you want to go eat?” I ask them, and we make our way over to the little Italian restaurant where we went the last time. I sit in the corner and never make eye contact with anyone. But it doesn’t stop a couple of people from coming over and asking for a picture. I smile at them and take the picture. “This is why I go straight home after the games,” I tell my parents when we walk out of the restaurant. “It’s just easier.”