Flightless

"So how come you ended up in Pittsburgh?" Jordan asked once we were settled into our booth at a quiet diner a few blocks away from the arena.

He'd been true to his word about being quick, taking barely ten minutes to shower and dress. I was a little shocked when he'd come out to meet me in the lounge area with his shirt still unbuttoned and belt hanging from the loops in his jeans. It wasn't like I'd never seen half naked athletes before - hanging out around rugby players guaranteed seeing guys shirtless, just in underwear or towels, even the odd full frontal or butt on display - so it wasn't a big deal, but Jordan had an impressive physique; toned but not overly muscular. I'd rolled my eyes at him as he caught me biting my bottom lip while checking him out, before helping him button the shirt while leaving him to take care of the belt.

"Uh," the question, though not entirely unexpected, caught me a little off guard. "Well, the head office of the company I worked for back home is based here, so it was an easy transfer. I have some friends in Maryland, so I was hoping to head there, but this is still pretty close. They're coming up for the weekend."

My explanation was less than vague, but I didn't trust myself to go into the full details just yet, let alone in public. Jordan sensed that, eyes narrowing in silent question as he let the subject slip.

"I have to share you? That's no fair," he pouted as the waitress came to take our orders.

Once she was gone, Jordan resumed his expression, earning himself a laugh and a shove to the shoulder. "How have you not had enough of me already? You've practically been glued to me since I got here. Not that I entirely mind it," I stopped him from cutting in, "You are rather amusing, if not relentlessly annoying."

"Hey, you left really good looking off that list. And why wouldn't I want to be around you? You're gorgeous, your accent completely turns me on, and I love you. I think those are pretty good reasons for not being sick of you." As he talked Jordan scooted further towards where I was sitting, pulling me into his side so he could place a kiss on my neck, then my cheek as I started to blush. "I even kinda like how you turn me down mercilessly, but still always give in anyway. There's no chance for an ego with you, I know you'll call me out on my shit. Honestly, I think the only thing I can find fault with in you is that your feet are freezing when we get in bed."

Laughing because it was a very real occurrence, I wrapped my arms around Jordan's torso, cuddling into him even more. PDA's weren't usually my thing, but I figured since I was sort of 'starting over' here, I might as well just go with whatever felt right at the time. No more holding back, being the incessantly shy observer I'd always been before. Leaning up I pressed a short kiss to his lips, murmuring a small, "Thank you," against them before repeating my actions then settling back down.

Jordan tilted my head up to his, searching my eyes for an answer. "For what?"

"Te kai, te aroha," I slipped into some Maori, loving how his eyes widened as he recognised 'kai' then narrowed as he tried to interpret 'aroha'. "For just being you and making me feel like I might actually belong here."

That addictive grin of his made an appearance, "That's cos you do belong here, baby."

"Hey, so you never actually answered my question this morning about how old you guys are," I remembered as the waitress returned with our meals.

"I'm twenty and Tanger is turning twenty two in a couple of days. How old are you babe? No, let me guess... Twenty one?" He paused from surveying his food to check my reaction.

I know my eyes widened as I heard his age. "Wow, you're just a baby, but that makes me feel so old. I wish I was twenty one again." I paused to breathe out a chuckle, remembering the craziness of my 21st party. "I'm actually twenty four."

Jordan's eyebrows skyrocketed; I thought his eyeballs were almost going to pop out. "No fucking way. Seriously? I thought I was aiming high with my guess," he laughed. "You really don't look it. Wow, that means you're the same age as Eric."

"Who's Eric?" I wondered aloud as Jordan slowly shook his head, letting the information settle.

"He's my oldest brother." That led into talking about his whole family, the 'Staal dynasty' that was seemingly in force in the world of the NHL and life in Thunder Bay.

All in all, it was a great first date.