Finding Home
Chapter 6
“You’re mom sort of explained why, but what made you decide to drop out of school?”
Brian and I were seated in a booth at an ice cream parlor downtown he had recommended. He had texted me the address when I was dropping Lindsay off at home. Since he knew where he was going, Brian had gotten there first; I felt bad that he had to wait so long for me to find a parking spot. It crossed my mind that he must have been exhausted and wanted to get home soon because tomorrow was going to be even more tiring, and he needed a good night’s sleep.
“Well,” he began, taking another bite of chocolate ice cream. “I loved UVM, but halfway through the season I thought to myself, ‘I love hockey. I love school. But I can always go to school later on, but I can’t always play hockey. So why not try my luck at the pros? If it doesn’t work out, I can always go back and get my degree.’ So I entered the draft at the end of the school year and got drafted! By Edmonton, no less! Last year I played down in Oklahoma City, and that’s what I plan on doing for a while. Unless I'm pulled up.” He smiled to himself, dreamily. Hopefully. Distantly.
I reached over the table and squeezed his free hand. “I hope you get pulled up.”
“Thank you.” He flashed me one of his million dollar smiles before taking another bite of dessert. “How about you? Have you ever played?” He knew I didn’t play; maybe sometime before?
“Nah.” I shrugged and took another bite. “I can’t stay up long enough.” That’s what she said.
“I could show you.” He gave me the look.
I gave him the look. “I took a puck to the face courtesy of Linds; that was enough for me.”
Brian studied my face, possibly looking for a scar. “You have captivating eyes.”
* * *
Lisanne had called them Monet blue. She had given me an order of stationary cards she had ordered to sell in the gift shop. I was unpacking the box while she sat on the stool behind the counter, looking them over as I unpacked and put the cards out on the shelf for sale.
“This blue,” she indicated, picking up a box of stationary. “Your eyes are this color.” She turned the box towards me so I could see which card she was talking about. It was Monet's Starry Night. “Monet blue.” She made up the shade. “These are the colors of your eyes. They're a variation of these shades of blue. I've noticed they change their shade periodically.”
“Thank you….” I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't good at receiving compliments.
“They're so unbelievably gorgeous.” Lisanne had a knack of over exaggerating and throwing adjectives and adverbs around.
I wouldn’t say my eyes were “unbelievably gorgeous.” In fact, I would never use any adjective along those lines to describe myself. Ever. I have no idea what she sees in me.
Or Brian, for that matter. I didn’t understand why he wanted to spend one of his last nights at home sitting in an ice cream parlor with me. Silly me. Or, as I was about to find out, tomorrow too.
* * *
“Tess,” Brian waved his spoon playfully in front of my face. “I’m not sure if you know already, but tomorrow is my scrimmage. If you don’t already have plans, would you like to come?” He seemed so nervous, as if he were afraid to ask and get rejected.
I gave him a small smile. “I’d love to!” I replied quietly.
He grinned. “Great! We don’t start playing until one, but doors open at eleven and fans get to interact with us during warm-ups. So if you have a favorite player you would like to interact with – ” he wiggled his eyebrows at me – “I would recommend getting to Rexall early.”
I giggled and had to shove a spoonful of mint chocolate chip in my mouth so not to embarrass myself any more.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’; there is someone you want a puck from.”
I choked a bit swallowing.
Brian smirked. “You okay there?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I blushed. Shit, I was flirting with him. God damn it.
* * *
The temperature had dropped significantly by the time we were ready to leave. Noticing me shiver, Brian wrapped his arm around me. I should have resisted, but instead I leaned into him. “When did it get so cold,” I muttered.
Brian squeezed me tighter. “Welcome to Canada, Little One.”
I signed but leaned in closer, taking advantage of his warm body. We walked like this to my car, which wasn’t a long walk thankfully because we were in an awkward position. We stopped at my car, and I remained under the protection of his arm as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
I didn’t know how to say goodbye, but the longer I stood wrapped in his arms the more awkward I was making the situation for myself. Finally I wiggled out from under his arm, turning to face him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” My hand was resting on his arm. Big mistake.
“Promise?”
What was this, The Notebook?
“I promise.”
“Good.” He leaned in, probably to kiss me, I don’t know, because I swerved and made it to the safety of my door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved goodnight, getting into my car. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why was I such a fucking loser?
Brian and I were seated in a booth at an ice cream parlor downtown he had recommended. He had texted me the address when I was dropping Lindsay off at home. Since he knew where he was going, Brian had gotten there first; I felt bad that he had to wait so long for me to find a parking spot. It crossed my mind that he must have been exhausted and wanted to get home soon because tomorrow was going to be even more tiring, and he needed a good night’s sleep.
“Well,” he began, taking another bite of chocolate ice cream. “I loved UVM, but halfway through the season I thought to myself, ‘I love hockey. I love school. But I can always go to school later on, but I can’t always play hockey. So why not try my luck at the pros? If it doesn’t work out, I can always go back and get my degree.’ So I entered the draft at the end of the school year and got drafted! By Edmonton, no less! Last year I played down in Oklahoma City, and that’s what I plan on doing for a while. Unless I'm pulled up.” He smiled to himself, dreamily. Hopefully. Distantly.
I reached over the table and squeezed his free hand. “I hope you get pulled up.”
“Thank you.” He flashed me one of his million dollar smiles before taking another bite of dessert. “How about you? Have you ever played?” He knew I didn’t play; maybe sometime before?
“Nah.” I shrugged and took another bite. “I can’t stay up long enough.” That’s what she said.
“I could show you.” He gave me the look.
I gave him the look. “I took a puck to the face courtesy of Linds; that was enough for me.”
Brian studied my face, possibly looking for a scar. “You have captivating eyes.”
* * *
Lisanne had called them Monet blue. She had given me an order of stationary cards she had ordered to sell in the gift shop. I was unpacking the box while she sat on the stool behind the counter, looking them over as I unpacked and put the cards out on the shelf for sale.
“This blue,” she indicated, picking up a box of stationary. “Your eyes are this color.” She turned the box towards me so I could see which card she was talking about. It was Monet's Starry Night. “Monet blue.” She made up the shade. “These are the colors of your eyes. They're a variation of these shades of blue. I've noticed they change their shade periodically.”
“Thank you….” I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't good at receiving compliments.
“They're so unbelievably gorgeous.” Lisanne had a knack of over exaggerating and throwing adjectives and adverbs around.
I wouldn’t say my eyes were “unbelievably gorgeous.” In fact, I would never use any adjective along those lines to describe myself. Ever. I have no idea what she sees in me.
Or Brian, for that matter. I didn’t understand why he wanted to spend one of his last nights at home sitting in an ice cream parlor with me. Silly me. Or, as I was about to find out, tomorrow too.
* * *
“Tess,” Brian waved his spoon playfully in front of my face. “I’m not sure if you know already, but tomorrow is my scrimmage. If you don’t already have plans, would you like to come?” He seemed so nervous, as if he were afraid to ask and get rejected.
I gave him a small smile. “I’d love to!” I replied quietly.
He grinned. “Great! We don’t start playing until one, but doors open at eleven and fans get to interact with us during warm-ups. So if you have a favorite player you would like to interact with – ” he wiggled his eyebrows at me – “I would recommend getting to Rexall early.”
I giggled and had to shove a spoonful of mint chocolate chip in my mouth so not to embarrass myself any more.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’; there is someone you want a puck from.”
I choked a bit swallowing.
Brian smirked. “You okay there?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I blushed. Shit, I was flirting with him. God damn it.
* * *
The temperature had dropped significantly by the time we were ready to leave. Noticing me shiver, Brian wrapped his arm around me. I should have resisted, but instead I leaned into him. “When did it get so cold,” I muttered.
Brian squeezed me tighter. “Welcome to Canada, Little One.”
I signed but leaned in closer, taking advantage of his warm body. We walked like this to my car, which wasn’t a long walk thankfully because we were in an awkward position. We stopped at my car, and I remained under the protection of his arm as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
I didn’t know how to say goodbye, but the longer I stood wrapped in his arms the more awkward I was making the situation for myself. Finally I wiggled out from under his arm, turning to face him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” My hand was resting on his arm. Big mistake.
“Promise?”
What was this, The Notebook?
“I promise.”
“Good.” He leaned in, probably to kiss me, I don’t know, because I swerved and made it to the safety of my door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved goodnight, getting into my car. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why was I such a fucking loser?