Late Night Conversations

The snow flakes drifted around me. It was colder than normal, but I didn't mind. This was where I'd grown up. I'd spent my whole life here up until I moved to Pittsbugh for college. I rubbed my hands together, hoping they'd warm up a little.

I had left on a walk after dinner and was still outside at midnight. My family was going crazy. My brother was leaving for Europe for the next six years so our entire family came together to say goodbye.

It had been a nice thought, really. But our family couldn't do that. Aunt Marissa would flirt with Aunt Carrie's husband, Aunt Carrie would talk bad about her sister the whole night, Uncle Henry wouldn't say a word about it while he secretly enjoyed it, and so on and so forth. It was one large drama fest.

All I wanted to be doing was sitting at home in Pittsburgh in my jersey and cheering on Eric. They had a big game tonight and I had promised weeks ago that I would watch it. Because of the sudden decision for the Barnes family to unite, I was forced to break my promise. Eric seemed okay with it, but I knew he still wished I'd watched it. I would have rathered watching it over being here. My family didn't always get along the best and therefore added more stress into my life than I could handle at times.

The snow began crunching behind me. It was no doubt my mother coming to check on me. She promised to check up on me an hour ago, so I figured she was coming to say goodnight.

A thick jacket wrapped around my shoulders. I snuggled into it. "Thanks," I whispered. I buried my nose into my sweatshirt.

"Any time."

I spun around. My head tilted back so I could see his face. At four inches above six feet tall, he stood about thirteen entire inches taller than me. I cursed my mother's side of the family for my short genes. His brown hair was messy, but it still looked good on him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The weight on my shoulders lifted just at the sight of him. I was resisting wrapping my arms around him and disappearing into his hug.

He grinned down at me as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. "I got a call about five and a half hours ago from a concerned brother begging to see if there was absolutely any way I could come rescue his sister," he explained playfully.

I laughed and hung my head. "Zane..." I mumbled. I made a mental note to thank him later. "You didn't have to come. I could have survived," I told him.

He gave me one of those genuine smiles of his that melted my heart. "I know. You're strong, but I thought maybe a little shoulder to lean on would be a good break for you since you're still dealing with the stress of finals next week."

I couldn't hold back anymore and launched myself at him. My arms wrapped tightly around his chest. His own arms looped around my waist. "They haven't stopped fighting since I got here four days ago," I whispered.

His hand ran up and down my back lazily. "Guess what I brought with me," he instructed.

I looked up at him, resting my chin on his chest. "What's that?" I asked.

He reached into the pocket of the coat I was now wearing. It was obviously his coat. It smelled like him; his laundry detergent and cologne. His hand held up a DVD in a plain CD case. "Since you seemed kind of upset about missing the game... I taped it for you," he told me.

I grinned as I took the DVD from him. "Thank you!" I exclaimed. I hugged him tightly. At least this way I would be able to see how the game went down.

"And there's a special thing in that game for you," he added on.

I gave him a curious look. His lips pulled into a smirk. "I may or may not have gotten my first goal of the season," he stated.

I laughed at his cocky expression. "I can't wait to see that, Mr. Tangradi," I told him in a smart tone.

His smirk fell slightly. I waited to hear what was on his mind. His eyes drifted over my head to look out down the hill we lived on. "Can I..." He stopped himself quickly. "Let's go watch it," he quickly suggested.

"Why? What were you going to ask?" I questioned.

He shrugged it off and stepped back, taking his warmth with him. "Nothing. Come on," he said, pushing a smile to his lips. He held out his hand to me.

I hesitated a moment before lacing my fingers with his. The happy and comfortable mood surrounding us seconds ago was now heavy. I wasn't sure what he was thinking that had changed things so quickly, but I tried pushing it aside. I wanted to see the game and I wanted to cheer him on, even though he was right beside me and I already knew he scored a goal.

We cuddled up on my family's living room couch together after I put the DVD in. I hit play and soon enough, his team was skating onto the ice. I felt my smile creeping up automatically.

Eric's knee bounced nervously while his hands were folded tightly in his lap. "You okay?" I finally asked. I hated seeing him in such an odd mood.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course," he quickly responded. He flickered a quick smile before directing his eyes to the TV.

I shrugged and focused on the TV, as well. I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt further over my fingers as I watched the puck drift around the ice. I had secretly slipped on my official Tangradi jersey on before heading outside. It had been delivered directly from the man whose name was sewn onto the back of it. It was my birthday gift from a few nights ago and I'd been dying to wear it. My last jersey had started falling apart from its constant use. It was worn on every game day and to bed some nights, as well.

As I watched Eric push the puck up the ice, my heart raced. Here it was. He was about to score, I could see it. The puch soared from his stick and only stopped when it collided with the back of the net.

I let out an excited scream and jumped up. "Yes!" I exclaimed before leaning down and planting a firm kiss on his lips. I froze. What had I just done?

I slowly pulled away from a shocked Eric. His eyes were as wide as plates. "I am so sorry..." I whispered. I sat down on the coach again, as far away as I could get. I couldn't believe I'd just kissed him. What was wrong with me? I told myself I could like him all I wanted, but I was never allowed to do anything about it. I had promised myself!

"I was so excited about the goal that I just... I... I, um..." I began to ramble.

He finally seemed to snap out of his daze and looked over at my bright red face. Our eyes met. "Sorry," I whispered out.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked.

I cursed myself. Great job, Lindsey. Look what you've done. He's probably going to start explaining how you two are so imperfect for each other and everything else you've always dreamed he would say and break your heart.

I nodded my head against my will.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He ran over his words in his head before speaking finally. "That isn't how our first kiss should have happened..." he began. My heart stopped. "I was kind of hoping I could ask you to be my girlfriend after we watched the game and then, you know... We'd have our first kiss."

My chest grew tight. "You were going to ask me to be your girlfriend?" I managed to get out.

He nodded his head and ran his fingers through his messy brown hair. I could finally see the exhaustion he'd built up over the day starting to kick in. He had dark bags forming under his eyes and his eye lids didn't open completely. "Of course... I don't exactly hold hands with anyone or ask any girl to be my good luck charm and wear my jersey," he said, trying to sound joking. His smile grew serious. "I've liked you for a while. I can understand if you don't want that-"

"No!" I blurted out before he could continue. "No..." I mumbled again. I swallowed hard. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Eric."

His smile grew faster than the explosion of an atom bomb. He let out a small laugh. "Thank God. I've been having nightmares of you saying no for weeks," he muttered to himself.

I laughed, wrapping my arms tighter around my knees. They pressed tightly against my chest, making sure I didn't leap across the couch and kiss him again. Instead, he shifted over in my direction, an easy feat with his size.

His hand gently rested on my cheek. His eyes stared into mine for a few brief seconds before his lips pressed against mine in a sweet, gentle kiss. My eyes slid close. "I like seeing you wear my jersey, by the way," he whispered against my lips as his other hand tugged lightly at the fabric of the jersey sticking out of my sweatshirt.