Status: One Shot and Done
To Me, You Are Perfect
To Me, You Are Perfect
Some of the guys joke about picking up Crosby’s leftovers, the girls who make a play for Sid, inevitably get turned down because he’s some kind of robot ninja and are happy to go home with their second or third choice. I mean, it’s Darwin right? Survival of the fittest and all that? Because it’s definitely a fucking jungle out there.
Then there are guys like me. I get what’s left when Sid has turned water into wine, Max has filled his threesome, Jordan’s injured and Tanger’s on his period. Waaaaaaay down the list of Penguins, there’s me. I know my place.
I know I’m not the best-looking guy – Crosby fucking sweats sperm and Staalsy looks like a stripper carved him out of marble. But some nights, it’s hard. Like tonight. I had a really good game. I had a goddamned game-winning goal. That is a big deal! It would be nice if just once a girl would notice.
Still, I have fun with the guys, partying and taking our day job to the nightlife. So tonight I’m out with them because they know I had a big night even if no one else does.
“Hi.”
I shake my head, resetting my vision like a iPhone going vertical, and in front of me is a very pretty girl.
“Uh, hi,” I say, looking to see which of the guys turned her down and sent her my way. Why? She’s totally hot. But no one’s watching, no one’s giving me a thumbs-up like this is my Christmas gift so I’d better not expect anything else. They’re so oblivious that I wonder if dark blonde hair in the purple top might be a hallucination.
“Nice game tonight.”
“Uh, thanks.” Stop stammering, moron. “Thanks. Were you there?”
She nods, tiny red straw pressed between soft, glossy lips. Her left hand holds her glass and I can see there’s no ring on her finger.
“Yeah, it was intense.”
____
Am I being too intense? I’m trying to be cool, but he seems a little freaked out and keeps looking right like he’s waiting to be rescued from me.
My friends think I should be with them, trying to talk to Crosby. It looks like Jersey Shore meets American Gladiators over there and if he doesn’t choose someone soon, fur is going to fly. Staal and Talbot stalk around the outside like they can’t wait to break it up.
“Ugh, him? I thought that was a sad puppy crush. You’re serious?” Miranda had asked.
Yeah, I am.
“I’m Sarah,” I say, leaning in a little because a handshake would be awkward.
“I’m Tyler.” He finally smiles.
Maybe he’s not your typical kind of good-looking, and even I’ll admit that his nose is too big. But who am I to throw stones? I always found him cute in a nerdy, class-clown kinda way except when he fights, often sticking up for a teammate and challenging someone bigger than he is. It’s the single instance where that macho shit turns me on. Aside from that he is almost always smiling.
“To game-winners,” I clink my glass to the edge of his, feeling like maybe I’d gotten somewhere.
____
Okay, okay.
“Must feel good to beat the Caps,” she continues.
Hair sweeps her shoulder, touching her neck where the front of her shirt plunges down her chest. A sliver hoop glints at her earlobe and her smile is curled on one side into a smirk. She’s talking like she knows at least a little hockey – that could be good for me, or it could be very bad. Any girl for me has to know the game. But any girl who knows usually isn’t for me. Anyway I’m busy counting the freckles on her throat.
“Yeah, I hate those guys.” I laugh because it sounds like playground trash talk. “Looking forward to seeing them again in the Winter Classic.”
“Ah, the only reason to be out of bed at 1 PM on New Year’s Day.”
She says ‘bed’ and I think of her, and me, in mine. Redline. I drain the rest of my glass to steady myself.
“We party after the game,” I tell her.
She surveys the scene around us. “I bet you do.”
____
Talk a little hockey and he looks less scared. Okay.
He’s not much bigger than I am, maybe four inches taller. He’s no colossus like Staal and he doesn’t have shoulders as wide as Letang, but under his dress shirt he’s definitely well-muscled. It stretches nicely across his chest and arms, hanging a bit loose over what I’m sure are flat, taut abs. His eyes are kind and playful.
Blur. And he’s talking.
“Sorry, what was that?”
He moves in closer, his body almost touching mine as if he heard my thoughts. “I asked if I can buy you a drink.”
I watch him walk to the bar, thinking that from the back he’s as hot as any guy on the team, save Crosby. But no one beats that ass. Still, I appreciate that suit pants were definitely created by a woman. Either he’ll get over what freaked him out when we started talking, or he’ll never coming back with my drink. I take the last sip of my old one, ice rattling in the glass, as someone steps up beside me.
“Hello,” he practically purrs. I know it’s Max Talbot before I turn – his cologne promises the best one-night stand in history.
I introduce myself and he starts flirting with me. I’m flattered, but it’s more like an out-of-body experience. One half of my brain watches from a distance, noting Max’s hand on my upper arm and the way his beard creeps up on his Movember mustache. The other half of my brain is being sautéed over an open flame by his accent. I snap at myself to get a grip, but my body is slow to respond.
____
She’s definitely hot. Hell, she’s hot enough for Crosby. So why is she talking to me?
And then I see. I come back with her vodka soda and my whiskey Coke to find Max breathing in her ear. Just like that, it falls apart. I know that people assume I’m stupid because I’m an athlete and I may have made some bad decisions in the past. In short, don’t ever lick your hockey stick. Those things haunt you forever. Of course she’d rather talk to Max, and pretending to talk to me was the perfect ploy. The only thing these guys love more than a hot girl is a hot girl who challenges them. If I weren’t so disappointed, I’d be impressed. She’s hot and smart.
If I’d stayed with her… no, probably not. But I should have known better than to leave her alone in the shark tank.
“Here you go,” I say sullenly, holding the glass out to her. Sarah’s eyes flick up to mine and she does something I have never, ever seen before. With a tiny step she moves away from Max and into me.
“Thanks.” Big, dark eyes meet mine and I think I see relief. Max’s expression goes from surprised to suspicious.
“Hey TK, I was just telling Sarah how we party after the Winter Classic.”
“Yeah, I mentioned that.”
“And she should join us,” he adds, like it’s finders-keepers.
I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. I was trying to figure out how to get her number. Talbot probably already has it.
“I’ll get the place and time from Tyler,” she says before I can. Max raises his eyebrows like he’s impressed and excuses himself. When he leaves, she giggles. “I think he’s booked a girl every night till then. Ten days, ha! No room at the inn!”
She’s still standing against my side, so I take a breath and pray I am reading her right. My fingers brush the back of her shirt as I reach behind and put my hand on her far hip. My arm fits into the small of her back and she settles in against me.
“Cheers, Tyler.”
____
Miranda will have my head for that one. Max Talbot, arguably the second most wanted man in Pittsburgh, melting an open invitation all over my body. I shiver slightly, making Tyler tighten his grip. He’s warm in that natural way that only boys can be, like a blanket that’s just come out of the dryer.
“What are you doing for Christmas Eve?” I ask.
“We have practice then I don’t think I’m doing anything. We have a Christmas dinner at Flower’s. Uh, Marc-Andre Fleury’s house.”
“I know who Flower is,” I smile at him. “Must be hard to be away from your family.”
He nods like it’s better not to think about it. “We’re used to it, and taking the trip for just a day is too draining. What about you?”
I’m still tucked into his side, but we’re closing in slowly to face each other. “Work tomorrow, then my roommates and I have a big Christmas dinner too, at home. My parents have a bed & breakfast in a ski town, so Christmas is the worst time to visit. I go home in January instead.”
I can honestly see the wheels turning in his brain. “So you….”
“Hey TK, we’re going to, hi. Hello.” Jordan bounds over to interrupt us, but stops dead when he sees me. I almost roll my eyes at his dramatic entrance. He leans past Tyler and extends a very large hand. “I’m Jordan.”
“Sarah.” His hand is warm too.
“Hello Sarah. You are gorgeous. Whattareya talking to this noob for?” Then he laughs at his own joke. “Just messing with you, TK. We are going to the diner. You coming?” He looks at me like I’m invited as well.
“Sarah? Hungry?” Tyler asks. He’ll stay if I’m staying, it’s all over his face.
“Sure, let me tell my friends.”
Jordan crows. “Bring ‘em!”
“Ummm,” I stand on my toes to see over the crowd, but no luck. Jordan watches me struggle then picks me up six inches off the floor. I can see Miranda and about 4 other girls within a foot of Crosby, but can’t tell who he’s talking to. Alexis is at the bar with someone I’ve never seen before. “My roommate is probably stalking Crosby. You should ask him before you invite her.”
“Hell no, that boy needs to get laid like you would not believe. Your girl can have a private audience with the king.”
____
He literally picked her up. Really, Gronk? Dick move, bro. Get your hands off my girl.
If she’s really my girl, I’ll know soon. She darts over to the bar and collects a dark-haired friend. Jordan pulls the same shit on Crosby that he just pulled on me, dragging Sarah in to identify and invite her roommate. As soon as she’s done, she looks back for me.
Nice.
The girls came in a cab, so Kris offers them a ride. Max volunteers to chaperone them, making room for Sarah to ride with me in Sidney’s truck. Jordan’s already in the front seat.
“Sid, this is Sarah. She’s way too hot for TK but there’s no accounting for taste.” Jordan smiles like he’s not really being a dick, so I let it go as Sarah slides close to me in the backseat. Gogo’s behind her and closes to door once he’s seated.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” Sidney says. He thinks he’s got such a poker face but around girls he is a fucking billboard. His eyes light up and I swear he’s blushing. I’ll have to watch out for him as well. Crosby makes sure we’re buckled into his little safety school bus and we head off.
Sarah leans forward, putting her head between the two front seats. “Sid, my roommate might try to attack you. I suggest you sit across from her and be alert.” The car goes dead silent, so she turns to me. “What? I’m just being honest.”
We all lose it. She looks bewildered while we howl with laughter. Finally, Gogo manages to get out a sentence. “You just sold your friend down the river! You’ll fit right in with this crowd.”
Sarah giggles. “I just don’t want to be responsible for her.”
Sid looks at her in the rear-view mirror. “I’m sure Max is taking care of it in the other car.”
She leans back, squeezing her shoulders in between us and laughs again. In the car full of guys, I smell her light, feminine perfume. She pushes her leg against mine playfully and I wonder if I was drooling. Her hair is caught in the collar of her jacket and I have to squeeze my hand between my legs to keep from brushing it loose. By the time we reach the diner my fingers are numb.
They seat us in the back at a couple of tables pushed together. Sarah’s roommate Alexis sits to my right and introduces herself to everyone. Jordan nearly pulls the chair out from under Kris to be next to her. What a horndog.
Max steers the other roommate into a chair and Sid comes in after, taking a place a few seats down. She waits for Talbot to introduce her and blushes furiously when Sidney shakes her hand. Gogo barks a laugh and tries to cover it with a cough. Sarah hides her face against my shoulder for a second and I feel a jolt of electricity.
We eat and joke, everyone but Sid and Kris with a few drinks in them. The diner is covered in holiday décor and Christmas music we’re all sick of plays on a loop. It’s an easy group, which is a blessing – not all the girls we’ve taken out after a bar have proven to be normal.
“If you wrap the foil tight, you can cook the whole thing in 3 hours,” Alexis says. Kris doesn’t believe her and I can’t believe they’re discussing cooking a turkey at 1 AM. Jordan tells Tanger he’s gay and Alexis sticks her tongue out at him.
“Guys who cook are sexy,” she says.
“I make a mean Kraft dinner,” Staal informs her, puffing out his chest.
____
I relax when I see Miranda is holding it together reasonably well. She’s pretty much staring at Sidney, but she ordered a burger so no one would realize I took away her utensils.
“Can I have some fries?” I jump at Tyler’s voice in my ear, whispering. His chest touches my shoulder too.
“Is it a secret?” I ask without turning my head.
“Crosby’s like the workout police. Here, trade.” I slide some fries onto his plate and he gives me a quarter of turkey club. The rest of the sandwich is arranged so the fries are out of site. He munches a few happily and I can’t help but laugh.
“I feel like I’m on a school field trip,” I whisper back. Everyone is fun – even Crosby seems relaxed unlike what I would have expected. He must know Miranda has nothing metal within reach. The guys rib each other endlessly, sometimes a little harshly, and I realize that Jordan calling out Tyler right in front of me before was a completely normal day in their lives. The check comes and everyone tries to pay. Jordan wins because his arms are longest and because he wanted to lean all over Alexis to reach it.
“Girls, I’ll give you a ride home,” Kris says. Jordan and Max do the math and say that’s a bad idea – there’s only room for four plus the driver, which means they can’t both go. I watch them debating the merits when I feel a hand on my back.
“You said you don’t have plans tomorrow night. Could I take you to dinner?” Tyler looks nervous, which is somehow the cutest he’s been all night.
I can’t help but tease him. “It’s Christmas Eve, nothing’s open.”
“Oh yeah. Uh, my place? I could make you dinner.”
I hold my hand out for his phone. “Like Alexis said, guys who cook are sexy.”
____
No way. She does not think I’m sexy. Cute maybe, likeable enough to have dinner with. But not sexy.
Max won the rock-paper-scissors contest to ride with the girls and he climbs into the middle in the back. We reach the car last. Sarah turns into me, lifts onto her toes and kisses my cheek. Her skin is smooth, flowery perfume stuns me in the crisp night air. Her cold hand slides into mine.
“Merry Christmas, Tyler.”
I want so badly to kiss her, to know that tonight really happened and this girl turned down half our A-team to share midnight fries with me at a diner. But I can’t risk running her off so soon. I squeeze her fingers in return.
“See you tomorrow.”
____
I have butterflies in my stomach all morning like I’m 15-years old. When my cell phone rings at lunch, I jump so hard I nearly fall out of my desk chair. “Hi Tyler.”
“Hey Sarah. I… I was thinking steak for dinner. Or we could have pasta, if you want. Do you like chicken parm? I can do that too. Or….”
He’s nervous and I have to stifle to urge to squeal. “Steak sounds great. Can I bring something? Are you allowed to eat dessert?”
“As long as you don’t tell Sid.”
I stop by the market on the way home and get wine and my favorite dessert – I could make something, but this is so much better. After an hour of tossing through the clothes I’ve been thinking about all day I finally settle on a red sweater and jeans. It’s clingy and it flatters my shape without being slutty. I almost wear boots, but maybe he’s the type who takes his shoes off in the house. Do guys do that? I settle on black ankle boots and socks, just in case. I pin my hair up at the front, lifting it off my face and try to wear the exact same makeup as the day before – it worked once, right?
I follow his directions and park in front of a two-story townhouse on a nice little lawn. All the lights are on and he opens the door before I can ring the bell. He’s wearing a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans. He does in fact have his shoes off.
“Hi.”
“Merry Christmas, Tyler.” He takes the bag and my coat, and I line my boots up next to his sneakers inside the door, bumping into him as I do.
“Sorry,” he catches my arm nervously. His hands are warm through my sweater and I think this is going to be an interesting night.
The house is spotless and smells delicious. I check out the bachelor pad spread – huge TV, video game setup, guitar, iPod dock with speakers that are currently playing Frank Sinatra. Smooth, Kennedy. His DVD collection is all action movies and the books are all spy novels. There’s a dining room with a table for six – two places are set at the corner, as close together as they can be.
In the kitchen, he’s working two pans on the stove. He holds a spoon out with a tiny bit of mashed potatoes for me to taste. I pretend not to see the hastily hidden recipes in what I guess is his mom’s handwriting.
“Wow, Ty, that’s really good.”
He beams like I just told him he’s moving to the first line while I busy myself opening the wine. Tyler reaches over me to get two glasses from the cabinet at the same time I lean to put the cork on the counter. He comes down as I’m coming up – we bump into each other again, this time face to face.
The second’s pause is almost awkward, I’m ready with a laugh to break the tension but instead he kisses me gently on the lips. He doesn’t move closer, doesn’t do anything just touches his mouth to mine for a few seconds like he’s testing for reaction. The butterflies are back and trying to break free, swooping and banging inside my stomach. But I manage a smile.
“Mmm.” That’s all he says.
____
Oh God. I turn back to the stove before I give myself away. I want to kiss her again, forget the food and just kiss her all night. Fuck filet mignon. I want her for dinner.
I spent all day cleaning and shopping. Staalsy would say I’m as gay as Tanger but it’s worth it if it works. Good thing I’ve made this before, one of the four things my mom taught me how to do right so I wouldn’t starve when I moved to the ‘Burgh. I know the place looks good and hopefully Sarah will be impressed. She must already be, if she let me kiss her.
The sweater she’s wearing gives me tunnel vision. It wraps and holds all her curves, the color red making me want to unwrap her like a present. Those jeans show off her fantastic ass and thighs and she smells like heaven. I try not to let my thoughts run away with me – after last night’s show of testosterone, she must think we’re all trying to get the nearest girl into the sack. I am, of course, but I remind myself that if I want a second date I need to go slow and be respectful.
Sarah hands me a glass of wine and lifts hers to toast.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, mesmerized by the shape of her lips, waiting for them to pull into that sparkling smile. Instead, they pucker softly and this time she kisses me. It’s short and sweet but my stomach drops like an elevator. Okay, I’m really getting this right.
“Merry Christmas,” she answers.
She brings the wine and potatoes, I bring the steak and greens into the dining room. I have eaten in here a grand total of four times, always when trying to impress a girl. I hope tonight goes better than those did. We dish out the food and sit down, knees touching under the table.
“This looks fantastic,” she says appreciatively. “Your mom would be proud.”
We talk about everything. She’s very funny and makes a few inappropriate remarks that set me at ease. I spend so much time with the guys I’ve forgotten how to watch my mouth and my jokes. At least with Sarah a slip won’t ruin the evening. I have such a good time talking to her and the food is delicious, if I do say so myself – I almost forget how much I want to kiss her.
She’s very excited about dessert. From the kitchen she carries in two little plastic cups. “I could have put these in dishes and pretend I made them. But I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m this good.”
They’re chocolate pot de crème, which looks like thick chocolate mousse, with shaved chocolate bits on top. I give her a toast with my plastic bowl. “Secret dessert,” I say.
She crosses her heart. “Safe with me.”
All I can think of on the first bite is it tastes like sex. It’s rich and dark, decadent and promises the very real possibility of completely losing your mind. The crème is light on my tongue but the taste is heavily weighted with cocoa. I savor it for a second before looking at Sarah’s face. Her eyes are closed like it’s a dream, the corners of her mouth curled in a smile. She’s pretty much tongue kissing the spoon and the moment I think I’m going to jump across the table, her foot snakes up my calf under the leg of my jeans. I wait just long enough to be sure it’s not an accident, until she finishes sucking the silver off that spoon and opens her eyes.
I’m standing over her and pulling her up in one movement. When I kiss her, I taste the cool chocolate cream. She runs her hands over my arms and kisses me back, opening her mouth at my insistence and letting me taste the cocoa on her tongue. The single bite of dessert is overwhelming. We kiss until I break away, panting.
“Wow, if I’d know that was going to work we could have had dessert first,” I smile, reaching for my dish. It’s the hardest thing, letting her go from my arms. But I need a moment to regain my senses. Don’t ruin this, I told myself again.
Turns out I didn’t need to worry. Sarah sits and picks up her spoon.
“Finish that,” she says, “and then you’re dessert.”
____
It’s a sin to rush through something that tastes so good, but I’m into it now. The first kiss in the kitchen was perfect and with the second I was testing his limits. Everything said he was only holding back for me, and I didn’t want to either.
Neither of us can finish dessert, it’s too indulgent. We clear the table, put the rest of the pot de crème in the fridge and when I close the door, he pushes me against it.
“Are you sure,” he says between kisses to my lips and neck, “that you didn’t mean to make a date with Sid or Jordan?”
I put my hands to the side of his face and look into his eyes. I know what he thought when he saw Max trying to pick me up last night, that I was really in this for a bigger catch. But Max tried to pick up everyone and didn’t look half as excited to be talking to me as Tyler had. I’d done everything I could after that to reassure Tyler, save for telling him outright.
“I’m sure, Ty.”
He pulls me out of the room and if he’d gone for the bedroom I’d have given in and followed with no protest. Instead he moves to couch and hauls me down with him, arms around my back and my legs bent across his lap. We happily explore each other’s make-out style for what seems like hours.
“In case you didn’t let me kiss you, I had something planned for after dinner,” he says against my neck.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Rather do this.”
“Then why did you tell me?” I kick my feet a little, giggling.
He pulls back. “Just wanted you to know that I wasn’t counting on it. I really did have something far less fun that we could do.”
“Show me.”
With a dramatic sigh he lets go and heaves himself up. Two minutes later he comes back dragging a big box. “Want to help me put up my Christmas tree?”
I resist his attempts to return to couch-kissing and insist we set up the tree. It’s fake, but still pretty at eight feet tall with a nice round shape. I pour another round of wine as he sets the pieces together and unfolds the branches into a tree-like shape. We wind lights into the arms, then garland and finally trim the tree with generic but brightly colored bulb ornaments. I notice that a lot of things still have tags on them.
“Did you buy all this today?” I ask, kneeling in front of the tree adding a last bulb.
Tyler pulls a silver star from its box. “I always wanted to do this, never got around to it.” He climbs into a chair and sets the star atop the tree. I beat a drum roll on the coffee table as he plugs it in and the whole thing glows to life. I applaud loudly and Tyler joins me again on the couch.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“You’re beautiful,” he answers, nuzzling at my neck. “And I’m lucky.”
It breaks my heart that Tyler thinks all those other guys are better than him just because of what they look like. Who hasn’t felt unwanted at some point, felt like the ugly duckling in a room full of swans? The rest of the players I’d met seemed like nice guys, but none of them are Tyler.
“I’m lucky too.”
We kiss on the couch for a long time, talking quietly and making each other laugh. It’s warm, my stomach is full and the low light from the tree is making me a little groggy.
“Sarah, let’s go to sleep.” He doesn’t say ‘bed’ or even ‘upstairs.’ Honestly I’ve been thinking about it for an hour now – curling up next to him and drifting off to sleep. But I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and I think sex on the first date would be a bad idea with a guy who’s obviously a little insecure. I want him to know I like him, but not for that. He leads me up to his bedroom.
“You cleaned,” I say, giving him a raised eyebrow. He just looks sheepish and I have to kiss him again. He carefully chooses me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, gets a set for himself and lets me change in the bathroom first. I bite my tongue as he opens the package on an extra toothbrush.
When I’m wearing a Pens t-shirt and some oversized shorts, I look at the Penguins 2009 Stanley Cup photo he has framed on his wall. I’m still examining it when he wraps his arms around me from behind. I lean back against him and hope he knows that in order to accomplish such a thing he has to be so special. We climb into the bed. His arm goes under my head as we curl together on our sides, fitting back to front like pieces of a puzzle. He kisses my ear, then my neck and again lower.
“Sarah, I…”
“Shhhh,” I stop him, no more confessions. “If we don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t come.”
____
Christmas morning always took forever to arrive when I was little. Now it comes too soon. I’m on my back and she’s against me, arm across my chest and leg bent over mine. Her hair is soft where it’s caught between her head and my neck. Careful not to wake her, I slip from the bed and complete the last thing I wanted to do on our date. Thank God I thought ahead. This is really the best part. Then I climb back into the warmth of her body and sleep for another hour.
She sneezes in her sleep, waking us both. She’s on her side now and I’m holding her tight. She rolls and kisses me with lips closed.
“Merry Christmas.”
I smile at her, still a little unbelieving that she’s here with me. “I think Santa came.” She laughs and snuggles against me, making it harder to carry out the final piece of my plan. Be strong. “No really, he was here. I heard him.” She’s looking at me sideways now, trying to tell if I’m joking. Then she gets up and I follow her downstairs. Under the tree is a single present, wrapped in silver by someone far more skilled than I. A big red bow marks the spot where a tag reads: To Sarah, From Santa. She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a sassy, how-dare-you look that quickly breaks into a smile.
“You didn’t.”
“Santa did.”
“Oh, okay. Santa did,” she says in a dopey voice.
I just shrug. “He knows you were a good girl.”
A wicked look crosses Sarah’s face. “What if I’d been a bad girl last night? Think he would have still brought me a present?”
I kiss her quickly. “You might have gotten more presents for that.”
She sits cross-legged on the floor like a kid and lets me hand her the box. The paper comes off quickly, she balls and throws it at me. Then she opens the lid and stops. “Tyler,” she says. Putting the top aside she pulls out a #48 Penguins jersey.
“I wore it the night we met, when I had that game-winner. Had it washed of course.”
She’s holding it to her chest and her smile is half-done, pursed on one side like she can’t believe it. That’s exactly what I was going for. I get up on all fours to kiss her.
“Thank you.” The gratitude is clear in her quiet voice.
“Merry Christmas, Sarah.”
____
Then there are guys like me. I get what’s left when Sid has turned water into wine, Max has filled his threesome, Jordan’s injured and Tanger’s on his period. Waaaaaaay down the list of Penguins, there’s me. I know my place.
I know I’m not the best-looking guy – Crosby fucking sweats sperm and Staalsy looks like a stripper carved him out of marble. But some nights, it’s hard. Like tonight. I had a really good game. I had a goddamned game-winning goal. That is a big deal! It would be nice if just once a girl would notice.
Still, I have fun with the guys, partying and taking our day job to the nightlife. So tonight I’m out with them because they know I had a big night even if no one else does.
“Hi.”
I shake my head, resetting my vision like a iPhone going vertical, and in front of me is a very pretty girl.
“Uh, hi,” I say, looking to see which of the guys turned her down and sent her my way. Why? She’s totally hot. But no one’s watching, no one’s giving me a thumbs-up like this is my Christmas gift so I’d better not expect anything else. They’re so oblivious that I wonder if dark blonde hair in the purple top might be a hallucination.
“Nice game tonight.”
“Uh, thanks.” Stop stammering, moron. “Thanks. Were you there?”
She nods, tiny red straw pressed between soft, glossy lips. Her left hand holds her glass and I can see there’s no ring on her finger.
“Yeah, it was intense.”
____
Am I being too intense? I’m trying to be cool, but he seems a little freaked out and keeps looking right like he’s waiting to be rescued from me.
My friends think I should be with them, trying to talk to Crosby. It looks like Jersey Shore meets American Gladiators over there and if he doesn’t choose someone soon, fur is going to fly. Staal and Talbot stalk around the outside like they can’t wait to break it up.
“Ugh, him? I thought that was a sad puppy crush. You’re serious?” Miranda had asked.
Yeah, I am.
“I’m Sarah,” I say, leaning in a little because a handshake would be awkward.
“I’m Tyler.” He finally smiles.
Maybe he’s not your typical kind of good-looking, and even I’ll admit that his nose is too big. But who am I to throw stones? I always found him cute in a nerdy, class-clown kinda way except when he fights, often sticking up for a teammate and challenging someone bigger than he is. It’s the single instance where that macho shit turns me on. Aside from that he is almost always smiling.
“To game-winners,” I clink my glass to the edge of his, feeling like maybe I’d gotten somewhere.
____
Okay, okay.
“Must feel good to beat the Caps,” she continues.
Hair sweeps her shoulder, touching her neck where the front of her shirt plunges down her chest. A sliver hoop glints at her earlobe and her smile is curled on one side into a smirk. She’s talking like she knows at least a little hockey – that could be good for me, or it could be very bad. Any girl for me has to know the game. But any girl who knows usually isn’t for me. Anyway I’m busy counting the freckles on her throat.
“Yeah, I hate those guys.” I laugh because it sounds like playground trash talk. “Looking forward to seeing them again in the Winter Classic.”
“Ah, the only reason to be out of bed at 1 PM on New Year’s Day.”
She says ‘bed’ and I think of her, and me, in mine. Redline. I drain the rest of my glass to steady myself.
“We party after the game,” I tell her.
She surveys the scene around us. “I bet you do.”
____
Talk a little hockey and he looks less scared. Okay.
He’s not much bigger than I am, maybe four inches taller. He’s no colossus like Staal and he doesn’t have shoulders as wide as Letang, but under his dress shirt he’s definitely well-muscled. It stretches nicely across his chest and arms, hanging a bit loose over what I’m sure are flat, taut abs. His eyes are kind and playful.
Blur. And he’s talking.
“Sorry, what was that?”
He moves in closer, his body almost touching mine as if he heard my thoughts. “I asked if I can buy you a drink.”
I watch him walk to the bar, thinking that from the back he’s as hot as any guy on the team, save Crosby. But no one beats that ass. Still, I appreciate that suit pants were definitely created by a woman. Either he’ll get over what freaked him out when we started talking, or he’ll never coming back with my drink. I take the last sip of my old one, ice rattling in the glass, as someone steps up beside me.
“Hello,” he practically purrs. I know it’s Max Talbot before I turn – his cologne promises the best one-night stand in history.
I introduce myself and he starts flirting with me. I’m flattered, but it’s more like an out-of-body experience. One half of my brain watches from a distance, noting Max’s hand on my upper arm and the way his beard creeps up on his Movember mustache. The other half of my brain is being sautéed over an open flame by his accent. I snap at myself to get a grip, but my body is slow to respond.
____
She’s definitely hot. Hell, she’s hot enough for Crosby. So why is she talking to me?
And then I see. I come back with her vodka soda and my whiskey Coke to find Max breathing in her ear. Just like that, it falls apart. I know that people assume I’m stupid because I’m an athlete and I may have made some bad decisions in the past. In short, don’t ever lick your hockey stick. Those things haunt you forever. Of course she’d rather talk to Max, and pretending to talk to me was the perfect ploy. The only thing these guys love more than a hot girl is a hot girl who challenges them. If I weren’t so disappointed, I’d be impressed. She’s hot and smart.
If I’d stayed with her… no, probably not. But I should have known better than to leave her alone in the shark tank.
“Here you go,” I say sullenly, holding the glass out to her. Sarah’s eyes flick up to mine and she does something I have never, ever seen before. With a tiny step she moves away from Max and into me.
“Thanks.” Big, dark eyes meet mine and I think I see relief. Max’s expression goes from surprised to suspicious.
“Hey TK, I was just telling Sarah how we party after the Winter Classic.”
“Yeah, I mentioned that.”
“And she should join us,” he adds, like it’s finders-keepers.
I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. I was trying to figure out how to get her number. Talbot probably already has it.
“I’ll get the place and time from Tyler,” she says before I can. Max raises his eyebrows like he’s impressed and excuses himself. When he leaves, she giggles. “I think he’s booked a girl every night till then. Ten days, ha! No room at the inn!”
She’s still standing against my side, so I take a breath and pray I am reading her right. My fingers brush the back of her shirt as I reach behind and put my hand on her far hip. My arm fits into the small of her back and she settles in against me.
“Cheers, Tyler.”
____
Miranda will have my head for that one. Max Talbot, arguably the second most wanted man in Pittsburgh, melting an open invitation all over my body. I shiver slightly, making Tyler tighten his grip. He’s warm in that natural way that only boys can be, like a blanket that’s just come out of the dryer.
“What are you doing for Christmas Eve?” I ask.
“We have practice then I don’t think I’m doing anything. We have a Christmas dinner at Flower’s. Uh, Marc-Andre Fleury’s house.”
“I know who Flower is,” I smile at him. “Must be hard to be away from your family.”
He nods like it’s better not to think about it. “We’re used to it, and taking the trip for just a day is too draining. What about you?”
I’m still tucked into his side, but we’re closing in slowly to face each other. “Work tomorrow, then my roommates and I have a big Christmas dinner too, at home. My parents have a bed & breakfast in a ski town, so Christmas is the worst time to visit. I go home in January instead.”
I can honestly see the wheels turning in his brain. “So you….”
“Hey TK, we’re going to, hi. Hello.” Jordan bounds over to interrupt us, but stops dead when he sees me. I almost roll my eyes at his dramatic entrance. He leans past Tyler and extends a very large hand. “I’m Jordan.”
“Sarah.” His hand is warm too.
“Hello Sarah. You are gorgeous. Whattareya talking to this noob for?” Then he laughs at his own joke. “Just messing with you, TK. We are going to the diner. You coming?” He looks at me like I’m invited as well.
“Sarah? Hungry?” Tyler asks. He’ll stay if I’m staying, it’s all over his face.
“Sure, let me tell my friends.”
Jordan crows. “Bring ‘em!”
“Ummm,” I stand on my toes to see over the crowd, but no luck. Jordan watches me struggle then picks me up six inches off the floor. I can see Miranda and about 4 other girls within a foot of Crosby, but can’t tell who he’s talking to. Alexis is at the bar with someone I’ve never seen before. “My roommate is probably stalking Crosby. You should ask him before you invite her.”
“Hell no, that boy needs to get laid like you would not believe. Your girl can have a private audience with the king.”
____
He literally picked her up. Really, Gronk? Dick move, bro. Get your hands off my girl.
If she’s really my girl, I’ll know soon. She darts over to the bar and collects a dark-haired friend. Jordan pulls the same shit on Crosby that he just pulled on me, dragging Sarah in to identify and invite her roommate. As soon as she’s done, she looks back for me.
Nice.
The girls came in a cab, so Kris offers them a ride. Max volunteers to chaperone them, making room for Sarah to ride with me in Sidney’s truck. Jordan’s already in the front seat.
“Sid, this is Sarah. She’s way too hot for TK but there’s no accounting for taste.” Jordan smiles like he’s not really being a dick, so I let it go as Sarah slides close to me in the backseat. Gogo’s behind her and closes to door once he’s seated.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” Sidney says. He thinks he’s got such a poker face but around girls he is a fucking billboard. His eyes light up and I swear he’s blushing. I’ll have to watch out for him as well. Crosby makes sure we’re buckled into his little safety school bus and we head off.
Sarah leans forward, putting her head between the two front seats. “Sid, my roommate might try to attack you. I suggest you sit across from her and be alert.” The car goes dead silent, so she turns to me. “What? I’m just being honest.”
We all lose it. She looks bewildered while we howl with laughter. Finally, Gogo manages to get out a sentence. “You just sold your friend down the river! You’ll fit right in with this crowd.”
Sarah giggles. “I just don’t want to be responsible for her.”
Sid looks at her in the rear-view mirror. “I’m sure Max is taking care of it in the other car.”
She leans back, squeezing her shoulders in between us and laughs again. In the car full of guys, I smell her light, feminine perfume. She pushes her leg against mine playfully and I wonder if I was drooling. Her hair is caught in the collar of her jacket and I have to squeeze my hand between my legs to keep from brushing it loose. By the time we reach the diner my fingers are numb.
They seat us in the back at a couple of tables pushed together. Sarah’s roommate Alexis sits to my right and introduces herself to everyone. Jordan nearly pulls the chair out from under Kris to be next to her. What a horndog.
Max steers the other roommate into a chair and Sid comes in after, taking a place a few seats down. She waits for Talbot to introduce her and blushes furiously when Sidney shakes her hand. Gogo barks a laugh and tries to cover it with a cough. Sarah hides her face against my shoulder for a second and I feel a jolt of electricity.
We eat and joke, everyone but Sid and Kris with a few drinks in them. The diner is covered in holiday décor and Christmas music we’re all sick of plays on a loop. It’s an easy group, which is a blessing – not all the girls we’ve taken out after a bar have proven to be normal.
“If you wrap the foil tight, you can cook the whole thing in 3 hours,” Alexis says. Kris doesn’t believe her and I can’t believe they’re discussing cooking a turkey at 1 AM. Jordan tells Tanger he’s gay and Alexis sticks her tongue out at him.
“Guys who cook are sexy,” she says.
“I make a mean Kraft dinner,” Staal informs her, puffing out his chest.
____
I relax when I see Miranda is holding it together reasonably well. She’s pretty much staring at Sidney, but she ordered a burger so no one would realize I took away her utensils.
“Can I have some fries?” I jump at Tyler’s voice in my ear, whispering. His chest touches my shoulder too.
“Is it a secret?” I ask without turning my head.
“Crosby’s like the workout police. Here, trade.” I slide some fries onto his plate and he gives me a quarter of turkey club. The rest of the sandwich is arranged so the fries are out of site. He munches a few happily and I can’t help but laugh.
“I feel like I’m on a school field trip,” I whisper back. Everyone is fun – even Crosby seems relaxed unlike what I would have expected. He must know Miranda has nothing metal within reach. The guys rib each other endlessly, sometimes a little harshly, and I realize that Jordan calling out Tyler right in front of me before was a completely normal day in their lives. The check comes and everyone tries to pay. Jordan wins because his arms are longest and because he wanted to lean all over Alexis to reach it.
“Girls, I’ll give you a ride home,” Kris says. Jordan and Max do the math and say that’s a bad idea – there’s only room for four plus the driver, which means they can’t both go. I watch them debating the merits when I feel a hand on my back.
“You said you don’t have plans tomorrow night. Could I take you to dinner?” Tyler looks nervous, which is somehow the cutest he’s been all night.
I can’t help but tease him. “It’s Christmas Eve, nothing’s open.”
“Oh yeah. Uh, my place? I could make you dinner.”
I hold my hand out for his phone. “Like Alexis said, guys who cook are sexy.”
____
No way. She does not think I’m sexy. Cute maybe, likeable enough to have dinner with. But not sexy.
Max won the rock-paper-scissors contest to ride with the girls and he climbs into the middle in the back. We reach the car last. Sarah turns into me, lifts onto her toes and kisses my cheek. Her skin is smooth, flowery perfume stuns me in the crisp night air. Her cold hand slides into mine.
“Merry Christmas, Tyler.”
I want so badly to kiss her, to know that tonight really happened and this girl turned down half our A-team to share midnight fries with me at a diner. But I can’t risk running her off so soon. I squeeze her fingers in return.
“See you tomorrow.”
____
I have butterflies in my stomach all morning like I’m 15-years old. When my cell phone rings at lunch, I jump so hard I nearly fall out of my desk chair. “Hi Tyler.”
“Hey Sarah. I… I was thinking steak for dinner. Or we could have pasta, if you want. Do you like chicken parm? I can do that too. Or….”
He’s nervous and I have to stifle to urge to squeal. “Steak sounds great. Can I bring something? Are you allowed to eat dessert?”
“As long as you don’t tell Sid.”
I stop by the market on the way home and get wine and my favorite dessert – I could make something, but this is so much better. After an hour of tossing through the clothes I’ve been thinking about all day I finally settle on a red sweater and jeans. It’s clingy and it flatters my shape without being slutty. I almost wear boots, but maybe he’s the type who takes his shoes off in the house. Do guys do that? I settle on black ankle boots and socks, just in case. I pin my hair up at the front, lifting it off my face and try to wear the exact same makeup as the day before – it worked once, right?
I follow his directions and park in front of a two-story townhouse on a nice little lawn. All the lights are on and he opens the door before I can ring the bell. He’s wearing a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans. He does in fact have his shoes off.
“Hi.”
“Merry Christmas, Tyler.” He takes the bag and my coat, and I line my boots up next to his sneakers inside the door, bumping into him as I do.
“Sorry,” he catches my arm nervously. His hands are warm through my sweater and I think this is going to be an interesting night.
The house is spotless and smells delicious. I check out the bachelor pad spread – huge TV, video game setup, guitar, iPod dock with speakers that are currently playing Frank Sinatra. Smooth, Kennedy. His DVD collection is all action movies and the books are all spy novels. There’s a dining room with a table for six – two places are set at the corner, as close together as they can be.
In the kitchen, he’s working two pans on the stove. He holds a spoon out with a tiny bit of mashed potatoes for me to taste. I pretend not to see the hastily hidden recipes in what I guess is his mom’s handwriting.
“Wow, Ty, that’s really good.”
He beams like I just told him he’s moving to the first line while I busy myself opening the wine. Tyler reaches over me to get two glasses from the cabinet at the same time I lean to put the cork on the counter. He comes down as I’m coming up – we bump into each other again, this time face to face.
The second’s pause is almost awkward, I’m ready with a laugh to break the tension but instead he kisses me gently on the lips. He doesn’t move closer, doesn’t do anything just touches his mouth to mine for a few seconds like he’s testing for reaction. The butterflies are back and trying to break free, swooping and banging inside my stomach. But I manage a smile.
“Mmm.” That’s all he says.
____
Oh God. I turn back to the stove before I give myself away. I want to kiss her again, forget the food and just kiss her all night. Fuck filet mignon. I want her for dinner.
I spent all day cleaning and shopping. Staalsy would say I’m as gay as Tanger but it’s worth it if it works. Good thing I’ve made this before, one of the four things my mom taught me how to do right so I wouldn’t starve when I moved to the ‘Burgh. I know the place looks good and hopefully Sarah will be impressed. She must already be, if she let me kiss her.
The sweater she’s wearing gives me tunnel vision. It wraps and holds all her curves, the color red making me want to unwrap her like a present. Those jeans show off her fantastic ass and thighs and she smells like heaven. I try not to let my thoughts run away with me – after last night’s show of testosterone, she must think we’re all trying to get the nearest girl into the sack. I am, of course, but I remind myself that if I want a second date I need to go slow and be respectful.
Sarah hands me a glass of wine and lifts hers to toast.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, mesmerized by the shape of her lips, waiting for them to pull into that sparkling smile. Instead, they pucker softly and this time she kisses me. It’s short and sweet but my stomach drops like an elevator. Okay, I’m really getting this right.
“Merry Christmas,” she answers.
She brings the wine and potatoes, I bring the steak and greens into the dining room. I have eaten in here a grand total of four times, always when trying to impress a girl. I hope tonight goes better than those did. We dish out the food and sit down, knees touching under the table.
“This looks fantastic,” she says appreciatively. “Your mom would be proud.”
We talk about everything. She’s very funny and makes a few inappropriate remarks that set me at ease. I spend so much time with the guys I’ve forgotten how to watch my mouth and my jokes. At least with Sarah a slip won’t ruin the evening. I have such a good time talking to her and the food is delicious, if I do say so myself – I almost forget how much I want to kiss her.
She’s very excited about dessert. From the kitchen she carries in two little plastic cups. “I could have put these in dishes and pretend I made them. But I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m this good.”
They’re chocolate pot de crème, which looks like thick chocolate mousse, with shaved chocolate bits on top. I give her a toast with my plastic bowl. “Secret dessert,” I say.
She crosses her heart. “Safe with me.”
All I can think of on the first bite is it tastes like sex. It’s rich and dark, decadent and promises the very real possibility of completely losing your mind. The crème is light on my tongue but the taste is heavily weighted with cocoa. I savor it for a second before looking at Sarah’s face. Her eyes are closed like it’s a dream, the corners of her mouth curled in a smile. She’s pretty much tongue kissing the spoon and the moment I think I’m going to jump across the table, her foot snakes up my calf under the leg of my jeans. I wait just long enough to be sure it’s not an accident, until she finishes sucking the silver off that spoon and opens her eyes.
I’m standing over her and pulling her up in one movement. When I kiss her, I taste the cool chocolate cream. She runs her hands over my arms and kisses me back, opening her mouth at my insistence and letting me taste the cocoa on her tongue. The single bite of dessert is overwhelming. We kiss until I break away, panting.
“Wow, if I’d know that was going to work we could have had dessert first,” I smile, reaching for my dish. It’s the hardest thing, letting her go from my arms. But I need a moment to regain my senses. Don’t ruin this, I told myself again.
Turns out I didn’t need to worry. Sarah sits and picks up her spoon.
“Finish that,” she says, “and then you’re dessert.”
____
It’s a sin to rush through something that tastes so good, but I’m into it now. The first kiss in the kitchen was perfect and with the second I was testing his limits. Everything said he was only holding back for me, and I didn’t want to either.
Neither of us can finish dessert, it’s too indulgent. We clear the table, put the rest of the pot de crème in the fridge and when I close the door, he pushes me against it.
“Are you sure,” he says between kisses to my lips and neck, “that you didn’t mean to make a date with Sid or Jordan?”
I put my hands to the side of his face and look into his eyes. I know what he thought when he saw Max trying to pick me up last night, that I was really in this for a bigger catch. But Max tried to pick up everyone and didn’t look half as excited to be talking to me as Tyler had. I’d done everything I could after that to reassure Tyler, save for telling him outright.
“I’m sure, Ty.”
He pulls me out of the room and if he’d gone for the bedroom I’d have given in and followed with no protest. Instead he moves to couch and hauls me down with him, arms around my back and my legs bent across his lap. We happily explore each other’s make-out style for what seems like hours.
“In case you didn’t let me kiss you, I had something planned for after dinner,” he says against my neck.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Rather do this.”
“Then why did you tell me?” I kick my feet a little, giggling.
He pulls back. “Just wanted you to know that I wasn’t counting on it. I really did have something far less fun that we could do.”
“Show me.”
With a dramatic sigh he lets go and heaves himself up. Two minutes later he comes back dragging a big box. “Want to help me put up my Christmas tree?”
I resist his attempts to return to couch-kissing and insist we set up the tree. It’s fake, but still pretty at eight feet tall with a nice round shape. I pour another round of wine as he sets the pieces together and unfolds the branches into a tree-like shape. We wind lights into the arms, then garland and finally trim the tree with generic but brightly colored bulb ornaments. I notice that a lot of things still have tags on them.
“Did you buy all this today?” I ask, kneeling in front of the tree adding a last bulb.
Tyler pulls a silver star from its box. “I always wanted to do this, never got around to it.” He climbs into a chair and sets the star atop the tree. I beat a drum roll on the coffee table as he plugs it in and the whole thing glows to life. I applaud loudly and Tyler joins me again on the couch.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“You’re beautiful,” he answers, nuzzling at my neck. “And I’m lucky.”
It breaks my heart that Tyler thinks all those other guys are better than him just because of what they look like. Who hasn’t felt unwanted at some point, felt like the ugly duckling in a room full of swans? The rest of the players I’d met seemed like nice guys, but none of them are Tyler.
“I’m lucky too.”
We kiss on the couch for a long time, talking quietly and making each other laugh. It’s warm, my stomach is full and the low light from the tree is making me a little groggy.
“Sarah, let’s go to sleep.” He doesn’t say ‘bed’ or even ‘upstairs.’ Honestly I’ve been thinking about it for an hour now – curling up next to him and drifting off to sleep. But I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and I think sex on the first date would be a bad idea with a guy who’s obviously a little insecure. I want him to know I like him, but not for that. He leads me up to his bedroom.
“You cleaned,” I say, giving him a raised eyebrow. He just looks sheepish and I have to kiss him again. He carefully chooses me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, gets a set for himself and lets me change in the bathroom first. I bite my tongue as he opens the package on an extra toothbrush.
When I’m wearing a Pens t-shirt and some oversized shorts, I look at the Penguins 2009 Stanley Cup photo he has framed on his wall. I’m still examining it when he wraps his arms around me from behind. I lean back against him and hope he knows that in order to accomplish such a thing he has to be so special. We climb into the bed. His arm goes under my head as we curl together on our sides, fitting back to front like pieces of a puzzle. He kisses my ear, then my neck and again lower.
“Sarah, I…”
“Shhhh,” I stop him, no more confessions. “If we don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t come.”
____
Christmas morning always took forever to arrive when I was little. Now it comes too soon. I’m on my back and she’s against me, arm across my chest and leg bent over mine. Her hair is soft where it’s caught between her head and my neck. Careful not to wake her, I slip from the bed and complete the last thing I wanted to do on our date. Thank God I thought ahead. This is really the best part. Then I climb back into the warmth of her body and sleep for another hour.
She sneezes in her sleep, waking us both. She’s on her side now and I’m holding her tight. She rolls and kisses me with lips closed.
“Merry Christmas.”
I smile at her, still a little unbelieving that she’s here with me. “I think Santa came.” She laughs and snuggles against me, making it harder to carry out the final piece of my plan. Be strong. “No really, he was here. I heard him.” She’s looking at me sideways now, trying to tell if I’m joking. Then she gets up and I follow her downstairs. Under the tree is a single present, wrapped in silver by someone far more skilled than I. A big red bow marks the spot where a tag reads: To Sarah, From Santa. She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a sassy, how-dare-you look that quickly breaks into a smile.
“You didn’t.”
“Santa did.”
“Oh, okay. Santa did,” she says in a dopey voice.
I just shrug. “He knows you were a good girl.”
A wicked look crosses Sarah’s face. “What if I’d been a bad girl last night? Think he would have still brought me a present?”
I kiss her quickly. “You might have gotten more presents for that.”
She sits cross-legged on the floor like a kid and lets me hand her the box. The paper comes off quickly, she balls and throws it at me. Then she opens the lid and stops. “Tyler,” she says. Putting the top aside she pulls out a #48 Penguins jersey.
“I wore it the night we met, when I had that game-winner. Had it washed of course.”
She’s holding it to her chest and her smile is half-done, pursed on one side like she can’t believe it. That’s exactly what I was going for. I get up on all fours to kiss her.
“Thank you.” The gratitude is clear in her quiet voice.
“Merry Christmas, Sarah.”
____