On My Mind

He knew that it was Kaia before he even opened the door.

She was shifting from foot to foot on his front steps, both hands holding a coffee cup. Her eyes brightened a little when they met his, and she stepped inside. “Hey,” she murmured, “do you mind holding these?”

He took the styrofoam Dunkin’ Donuts cups with trepidation, giving her a look. “You know I have a coffee maker, right?” He noted—as he watched her quickly shrug off her coat and boots, almost too-awake—that one of the cups was nearly empty.

“I was getting myself a coffee before I left,” she explained, unwrapping the scarf from her neck. “And I felt bad about showing up empty-handed, and donuts weren’t a good idea—for either of us—so I just got you one. And then drank all of mine on the way here, so now I’m a little—”

He couldn’t help the smile that came over his face, shaking his head. “You look nice,” he said, taking in her leggings and oversized sweater.

“So do you,” she laughed, nodding toward his sweatpants. “You cooking?”

“Trying,” he replied, meeting her at the stove. “I’m not good at omelets.”

She picked up a spatula with a little laugh. “Neither am I.”

It had been less than two hours since they had seen each other—when Sidney had left her over-heated apartment, reminded of the impending Pittsburgh winter as soon as he stepped into the cold morning air. Sleeping in her apartment that night was far from what had become the routine at his place, comprised of removing all of the blankets from her bed and sleeping sprawled out, wearing only boxers, the only parts of their bodies touching their fingers. And even that had been temporary: Kaia had rolled over, mumbling something, half-awake, about it being too hot to be alive, her arms thrust over her head. When they had parted ways a few hours before, Sid had brushed his lips against hers feverishly, closing the door with a promise of breakfast at his—heat-regulated—house.

“I passed my landlord on the way to my car,” she said absentmindedly, poking at the eggs in the pan in front of her, “and he said that they might not be able to fix the heating for another week. I guess it’s, like, a whole building thing—our floor is too hot, and the ones above and below us are too cold, and—yeah.”

“You’ll get sick if you’re in that heat for a week, Kai,” Sid muttered, earning a frustrated nod in response. He worked it over in his mind for a moment, thinking of his schedule—home games all week. “You should just stay here.”

She looked at him with an unsure look on her face. “Really?”

“If you want to,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant as he shrugged. “I mean, Maggie’s boyfriend’s couch seems like a great option, too—”

She groaned a little, shaking her head. “Not with my games coming up. I can’t risk any of that stuff.”

She looked hard at the stove, and Sid couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her mind—he had never been exactly good at understanding women, but Kaia was impossible for him to read, even when he was standing two feet from her. He wanted to understand her. He swallowed and shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, subconsciously shifting closer to her. He wanted a lot more than to understand her, when he thought about it, thinking briefly that there were no couches for him to trip over here. Not now, Sidney.

“Maybe I should just stay here,” she said after a moment, looking over at him. “You won’t mind me hanging around?”

“I offered,” he said, nudging her side with an elbow. “It’d be nice.”

“I leave on Wednesday, anyway,” she said, her voice high, as though she was trying to rationalize what she was saying. “So, I mean—they’ll have it fixed by Saturday, right?”

He shrugged. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

She smiled then, and he felt himself go soft at the edges, the all-too-familiar reaction that he always had to those kinds of smiles. “You’re too nice, you know?” She leaned against the kitchen island on the other side of him, ankles crossed. “If we advance to the finals, I’ll be back out on Monday, anyway.”

“When you advance,” Sid corrected gently.

She gave him an almost worried look, reaching up to tap her knuckles on the wooden cabinet above his head. “You know better than to jinx me,” she muttered, pressing her fist to his chest.

He slipped his hands around her waist, settling them on the small of her back. “I’m sorry.”

Her arms wound around his neck, and she settled against him, standing between his legs. “You should be.”

He had noticed weeks before—he could say that; weeks—that she fit into his arms in a way that he liked; her body tucked into his like it was meant to fit there. When he brushed his lips against her forehead, she tilted to her head to kiss him back, her lips meeting his slowly, the kiss drawing itself out. His hands roamed up and down her back, slipping under the thick knit of her sweater to meet bare skin. He smirked a little at the shiver that shook her body, pulling her into him.

When she pulled away, she looked up at him with the kind of eyes he had seen the night before—innocent baby blues that he swore would kill him, highlighted with some kind of mischief.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she said quietly, hands folded into fists on his chest. “C’mon.”

He let her lead him, laughing a little as she carefully turned the stove off behind them.

She knew the way to his room but stopped halfway, gripping his shirt in her hands roughly, and pressed her lips against his, sucking on his lower lip as he lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he finished the distance to his bedroom, his hands exploring the soft skin under her sweater, and her lips pressed to his, his jawline, his neck, gentle, soft, slow as they glided over him.

Sidney put her down on the bed like she was made of porcelain, and fell down beside her, lifting her body on top of his.

The sweater came off first, and then her leggings, and Sidney crawled on top of her, his hands and mouth exploring the inches of Kaia that had always been covered—her chest, her hip bones, the inside of her thighs, her hips bucking a little as his hand dusted over her underwear.

“Sid,” she mumbled, her hands tugging his shirt away from his body, and he complied, pulling the fabric over his head. Her eyes raked over him the same she had the night before, her bottom lip between her teeth. Her fingers reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, but he pushed them away, his own hands moving to undo her bra.

He had to have known that her body would be perfect, but he could feel his sweats getting uncomfortably tight as he took her in, hands moving over her nipples as his lips met hers again, drinking off of her mouth. She brought her mouth to his neck, sucking on the skin there for a moment before he pulled away, drifting back down.

His lips met the skin just above her underwear, and he pulled the offending fabric away, kissing down to her inner thigh and back up. His hand replaced his mouth, rubbing over her, watching—with a smirk—as she squirmed under him, emitting the smallest moan when his fingers slipped inside of her.

He could have worked her over for hours, watching her little body move under him, her chest rising up and down with a combination of moans and mumbled curses, but when he felt her tightening around him he pulled away, pressing a kiss to the wetness between her legs.

“Sid,” she mumbled, her hands reaching out to help him pull his sweats and boxers off. “Just—”

“Condom,” he muttered dumbly, fumbling through his bedside table, and turned back to her. He watched in ecstasy as her hands rolled down his length, and met her eyes when she looked back up at him, her eyes heavy.

They let out simultaneous moans as he pushed inside of her, Kaia’s hands reaching up to knot into his hair as he started to pump in and out of her, his room filled with the noise of his skin slapping hers, and her quiet moans, punctuated with gasps as Sid sped up, smirking to himself.

“You like that, huh?” He emitted after what he thought could have been a minute, or could have been an hour, slowing to lift her body to his.

She nodded, kissing the base of his neck and beginning to work up, holding herself up to his chest with her hands around his neck.

He couldn’t hold back his surprise when she pushed him onto his back, climbing over his thighs, her hands pressed into his chest. A moan slipped through his lips when she started riding him, her hips grinding on his, and he looked over the girl on top of him with a look that he knew had to be close to wonder.

“Kaia,” he groaned with a sharp intake of breath, his hands on her hips, following their movements.

“You like that, huh?” She whispered to him teasingly, her voice breathy.

He lifted his hips to meet hers, looking over her face and then her body—illuminated by the sunlight streaming through his bedroom windows—and pulled her down onto him, sitting so their faces were level. He bucked his hips to meet hers as she rode him, calloused hands on the soft skin of her back.

“Fuck, Sid—Sidney,” she mumbled, her words almost slurred. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

She came over him, moaning his name and swears and a slur of unintelligible words all at once, her face pressed into the crook and his neck, and he followed a few seconds later, the two of them falling back onto the bed, her chest pressed against his.

Kaia found his mouth and held his face between her hands as she kissed him, soft and short, and then fell onto the bed beside him, her body tucked under his arm. She fit there—almost perfectly, Sid thought, as his fingers trailed over her chest, like he was claiming her body as his.

“Breakfast,” she mumbled into him after a while, and he felt her smile.

He rolled over, drawing her body toward his. “You’re thinking about food right now?”

She giggled a little. “Yes.”

His hands palmed over her body, all of the places that he wanted to know. Their clothes were somewhere on the floor beside the bed. “Come on, then.”

~

“Hey, Dad,” Kaia mumbled, her phone balanced between her ear and shoulder as she closed Sidney’s the door behind her. “Sorry—I just got out of my car, gimme a second.”

She could hear him laughing a little as she dropped a bag of groceries on the countertop in front of her, letting her backpack and purse drop onto the floor at her feet, and then paused, taking in the silence of Sidney's empty house around her. Through the windows on the opposite side of the kitchen, she could see the sun sinking down below the trees, and moved to start turning on the lights.

“Sorry,” she repeated, reaching to push the light switch up in the living room. “I’m staying with someone because of the heating, and I’m, like, alone here right now, so—”

“Weren’t you staying with Maggie’s—what was his name? CJ, or—”

“TJ,” she corrected. “And, yeah, but all he had to sleep on was a couch, and I was worried I was going to hurt my back, or something.” This was the explanation she had given Maggie, too, though her friend had seen through it almost immediately. “I mean, my ankle is still a little sore, so I’m trying to be careful.”

“That’s a good idea, then,” her dad said after a moment. “What teams are you playing up in New York?”

Kaia rattled off the names as she unloaded groceries, tucking boxes of pasta in the cupboards she thought they belonged in, and stuffing chicken breasts in the fridge with all of Sidney’s food. He told her not to get groceries—he said that he would buy them—but the food in his pantry did less than appeal to her, mostly health food that she wanted to make fun of him for eating. She knew better than that, at least, and made a face subconsciously as she pushed wheat germ back to make room for her box of Cheezits.

“You guys have been playing pretty well,” her dad was saying, and paused to clear his throat. “Little things, here and there, but this is a solid team.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “We’re good together, right? That’s what everyone has been saying.”

She fell back on the couch as her dad launched into a second wave of predictions for the upcoming tournament, citing results from other games played around the country that he had found online. She listened wholeheartedly, adding her own commentary about teams or players when she could get a word in.

Kaia’s dad had been the only thing that she had ever missed about her tiny hometown in northern Massachusetts. Craig Cheramie was what Maggie had always referred to as an “all-American:” a carpenter and working man, who had kept a thick beard for as long as anyone could remember; and who—like Kaia—was soft-spoken and quiet, but passionate about his children, of which Kaia was the youngest and the only girl. He was the one that had encouraged her to chase after the soccer ball for the first time when she was hardly old enough to walk, and had only continued to encourage her as she got older. It had been just the two of them in their family house for a while before Kaia left for Pittsburgh, her mom having passed away when Kaia was a baby, and it was there that he still lived, alone, with two dogs.

“From what I’ve seen,” he said slowly, “it looks like you’ve got a pretty good shot here, kiddo.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” she said, closing her eyes. “I just have to survive this week.”

“And figure out the heating in that apartment,” he said grudgingly. “I won’t say it’s bad luck, because I know how you feel about that, but—”

“Dad,” Kaia groaned, earning only a chuckle in response. She reached out and begrudgingly rapped her knuckles against the wooden coffee table. “Don’t jinx me.”

“Who’re you staying with, anyway?” He asked casually.

“Just a friend of mine,” Kaia said, letting the lie float away. “He has a pretty big place, so he offered—”

“He has a pretty big place, huh?” Her dad echoed. “Staying with a boy?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Kaia said lamely.

“He a student, then?”

“No,” she said slowly.

“Who is this guy?” His voice had lost almost all of its casualness, and she could almost hear his mind jumping over all the possibilities.

“He’s just a friend,” she mumbled, frowning at the lie. “His name is Sidney.”

“Sidney? What a stupid name.”

“Dad, stop,” she moaned, covering her face with a pillow. “You’re making this a big deal and it doesn’t have to be.”

“How old is he?”

She contemplated this, and said, after a few seconds, “A few years older.”

“How old is a few years? He some kind of pedophile, or what?”

“I’m 22, I’m pretty sure I'm a little too old for him to be a pedophile,” she muttered, almost rolling her eyes. “He’s, like, 26—it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Twenty six?” His voice was almost incredulous. “You’re seeing a 26 year old man?”

“Oh my God,” she said. “Dad, I’m going to hang up on you if you keep—”

“Four years is a big difference,” he said. “You’re a young woman, and you can do what you want, but—that's a little bit much, don't you think, Kai? Four years?"

“I’m hanging up on you,” she said, holding the phone away from her ear. “Goodbye. Talk to you later. No, Dad, I’m hanging up. Love you. Goodbye.”

It took all of her will to not throw her phone to the floor, shaking her head as she wandered back into the kitchen. She stood in silence for a moment, too aware of the empty house all around her. How the hell does he handle this on his own?

Her phone flashed with her Dad’s number, and she ignored it, digging through Sidney’s cabinets to find a pot to start making her dinner. It was Monday night, and Sidney had a game; Kaia, on the other hand, had all of the schoolwork that she had pushed off in the two weeks that she had been playing playoff games. A mountain had started to form as she let herself get distracted by the most important games of the year, a routine that had become almost normal for her in the four years she had been playing championship soccer in Pittsburgh. She had realized, as she was packing her things to bring with her to Sidney’s, how much she had left unfinished, and almost panicked, reeling herself in as she shoved textbooks and her laptop in her bag. There had been a noticeable flicker of disappointment in Sidney’s eyes when she told him that she couldn’t go to his game, but he had recovered with a serious nod, reassuring her that her schoolwork was more important. She hadn’t seen him since she left early that morning for practice, rolling out of his bed sleepily and pulling on all of her workout clothes with his eyes on her, a blush faint on her cheeks.

She found herself glaring at the pile of work on the kitchen table, wishing that she could be done with the work and school in general. There were only a few months left to her college education, a fact that she and Sidney had discussed at length a few days before. She was staying in Pittsburgh, hoping to find a job at one of the city’s newspapers as a journalist, the former fact having been almost a relief to Sidney when she told him. She wondered, as she ate dinner alone in his empty house, if they would still be together come May, when she graduated.

She hoped they would, at least.

She had the game on as she worked, glancing up occasionally to grimace at the score. They were playing the Blackhawks, and they were losing. It wasn’t that bad at first—one goal in the first period, and Sid scoring against them only a few minutes later—but it seemed like the Pens fell apart after that, conceding three goals and scoring only one. Kaia told herself that she had seen worse, and she had; but not for Sid, and not this season. She turned the TV off as the game ended and the camera panned to his face, all disappointment and frustration.

Almost two hours after the game ended, she heard the garage door open and a car door slam shut; on the other side of the house, a door opened and closed quietly, her boyfriend's footsteps breaking through the silence.

“Sid?” She called, and climbed off the couch, watching him walk toward her slowly, arms at his sides. “Hey, babe.”

He looked at her blankly for a moment, pulling the fridge door open to get a bottle of water. “How’s your school stuff?”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, meeting him between the counter and the island, her arms around his waist. “I think I’m in a good place to stop now.” She looked up at him, biting her lip—she was hardly half-done, but the disappointment that was obvious in his body language was ripping at her resolve. “Let’s go to bed.”

He nodded, and Kaia trailed after him as she started up the stairs, staring at his back forlornly.

She crawled into his bed, already in her pajamas, and paused to look at him as he shrugged his suit coat off, head down. This was a different Sidney than she was used to, far from the captain courageous that she had come to know, and as she watched him slowly change, she felt her heart aching for him—because, mostly, she knew how defeat felt, and she knew the feeling of wishing there had been five minutes, ten minutes more. When he got into bed beside her, he just pulled her toward him and buried his face in her t-shirt, his arms around her torso. Kaia held him in silence, one hand tangled in his hair, unused to the feeling of his body—bigger than her in every way—tucked against hers, his face against her chest.

Sidney drifted off to sleep against her as she pulled the comforter over both of them, settling into his pillows. She thought, briefly, of her conversation with her dad—the tournament, and his prediction that Michigan would be knocked out in the upcoming round. He thought that the final would be between Pitt and UC Berkeley, though Kaia wondered if he said that only because she played for Pitt, if he thought—secretly or not—that she would be one of the players going home, sore and sad. Sidney started to snore a little, and she almost rolled her eyes at him, hoping that she wouldn’t feel his heartbreak in the coming weeks.

She remembered, looking at her boyfriend’s sleeping body, her dad’s snide he’s twenty six? Sidney didn’t seem far off from her then, human and real as he slept beside her—sad about a loss, disappointed in himself. Four years was hardly a difference, and it wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed her mind before. She and Maggie had talked about it absentmindedly one day, both agreeing that it wasn’t a big deal.

Her dad’s voice echoed in the back of her mind as she fell asleep, and she pushed it away forcefully, sinking further beneath the blankets. Beside her, Sidney stirred, his grip around her tightening.