Here I Am

It took everything I had not to check my phone every chance I had, just to see if Delia had called or texted me.

“Why don’t you just check it already?” Toews said as we sat down to the team dinner before the big game.

“Huh?” I snapped my head up, looking at the captain. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s talking about the way you look at your phone,” Kruger sat down, his plate filled with pasta and chicken. “You’ve been glaring at it ever since the plane landed. It’s as if you’re trying a Jedi mind trick on it so that Delia will call. Hasn’t worked yet, I see.”

I sighed. Most of the guys said Krugs was quiet and he was. . . around other people. But when it came to me, Tazer, and Stalberg, he had the potential to be just as obnoxious as Kaner, in his own subtle way.

Stalberg sat down next to his Swedish better part, Hammer not too far behind to complete the Swedish circle. It was like wherever one Swede went, the other two followed. They were like fish.

“Why don’t you just call her?” Stalberg said in between bites of pasta.

“He doesn’t want to seem needy,” Tazer said, taking a gulp of water.

Hammer and Krugs laughed. “One call will not make you needy Crow,” Hammer said, taking my phone and started to do something on it. “Damn, I don’t know your pass code.”

“I got it,” Tazer took the phone from him and moved his fingers around on the screen.

“I changed it,” I stated triumphantly.

“0505 isn’t much of a password either dumb ass,” he said, rolling his eyes at my lack of creativity. I wonder what Delia’s favorite number was. . .

“Eleven,” Kruger said, pointing his fork at me. “Her favorite number is eleven.”

I couldn’t decide which question to ask first, so I just sat there, stumbling like an idiot.

“Riley asked her in the locker room last night and you’re just that predictable my friend.”

“Delia!” Tazer’s voice was loud. “It’s Tazer. Yes I know I’m on Crow’s phone again. Well it’s not my fault he has no creativity with his pass codes. Mhm. Yeah, so why haven’t you called? You don’t call, you don’t write. We’re all feeling pretty lonely here. Yes I know it’s been less than twenty four hours, but we’re a needy bunch of hockey players. Yeah, here he is,” he passed the phone off to me. “She wants to speak with you,” he smirked and went back to shoveling pasta down his throat.

“Hey Delia. Sorry about him. He gets these nervous breakdowns before each away game and he’s just an obnoxious dumb ass,” I said quickly, before she could have a chance to speak.

She laughed on the other end. “It’s all right. I was thinking about calling you anyways.”

My heart lurched a little. “Really?” I tried not to sound too eager.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I should. I don’t want to ruin your mojo or anything of the sort.”

“Whatever mojo I had, Tazer just killed it, not you.”

She laughed again and I was happy. I liked to make her laugh and I loved hearing her laugh. “Okay good. Call me after your game.”

“Are you sure you’ll wait up? It’s a later start there.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m old Mr. Corey Crawford?” a hint of amusement edged her voice.

“What?! No! Of course not! We’re like the same age! You’re not old!” I stammered and the guys snickered.

“Kidding Corey! Kidding! Good luck out there.”

“Thanks,” I said and we both hung up. No goodbyes needed. Goodbyes were more final, as I was to see her in only a few days.

“Does she know that you’re in love with her?” Kruger asked, finishing off his dinner.

“I’m not in love with her. I’ve only known her a few weeks,” I argued, though I was starting to believe the words myself.

“So?” Stalberg stood up to throw his trash away. “Love hits hard, like a freight train. You, my friend, have been hit hard.”

It was possible that I had fallen in love with Delia Staal, but I highly doubted she had fallen in love with me.