Sequel: The Bowl ›
Multiple Tries Needed
One of One
"Don't get lost," John says as he pushes his cart toward the first aisle of Whole Foods. "Meet me at the check out or I leave you here." Ryan walks towards the produce area to kill time while John shops, the checkout lines still within his sight. Ryan picks up an orange from a pile and inspects it, then sets it back down and moves onto another. After a few minutes of inspecting the fruit, he moves on to another stand of apples and repeats his movements.
"Excuse me," he hears from behind him. He turns to look and sees a petite girl, barely coming up to his shoulder. She wears her dark hair pushed messily on top of her head, the rest of her wardrobe just as unkempt. Yet somehow, to Ryan, it works on her. He steps back as he continues to take her in.
The front of her t-shirt is splattered with paint, her jeans tattered and her red converse dulled and worn.
She bags her fruit then backs away. As she ties the knot around the bag, she notices the strange boy is staring at her. She suddenly regrets going out with no make up as she notices his faint smile.
The girl stays for a second, hoping Ryan will be the first to make a move. However, the longer he stands still gawking, more and more hope leaves the girl.
"Stromer!" someone calls from another produce stand. The boy's head whips around to meet the voice as the man who owns it walks toward the pair, quiet and awkward.
He starts saying something to Ryan quietly, not acknowledging the girl. However, when Ryan clears his throat and raises his eyebrows in the direction of the girl, John turns around. He backs up a bit to create a sort of triangle, looking at Ryan expectantly. Ryan glances around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he desperately searches for something to say. He tries to introduce himself, but then also ask how she is, the two jumbling themselves into what Ryan actually says, "I'm are you...?"
His voice fades as he realizes his mix up, his face reddening as John's laugh bellows.
"I think Stromer was trying to introduce himself. He's Ryan, I'm John, his friend I guess. And you are?" Ryan glances at John thankfully as the girl sets her bag in the front basket of her cart. Ryan's afraid she's going to leave, and he's even more afraid his fear is written all over his face for the girl to see.
She turns back towards the pair of men, uncomfortable with the sudden masculine attention. "I'm Dylan."
"Isn't that your brother's name?" she hears John mutter to Ryan. He elbows him in the side, giving him a hard look. Dylan giggles, then stops when she realizes she doesn't giggle.
"Asshole," Ryan says to his friend. Dylan feels a sense of appreciation. She's only just met the boy, and he's already defending her. She looks them over as they bicker between themselves.
Ryan, who she had previously seen as a boy of sorts now appears as a man, the results of frequent exercise blatantly obvious through a t-shirt layered under a baggy flannel. Dylan thinks to ask what he does that keeps himself in shape. John seems the same, muscular, though she can see the tiny love handles just barely hanging over the waistband of his jeans.
"So what do you two do for a living?" Dylan cuts in. They stop glaring at each other only to look at her like she's gone crazy.
"You don't recognize us?" John says, tugging at the baseball hat loosely hanging on the crown of his head. Dylan shrugs. "John Tavares? Ryan Strome? New York Islanders?...Nothing?"
No look of realization crosses her face, no gasp of surprise, and Ryan is almost relieved that he's finally met someone who can't use him for his fame- she almost seems not to care. Although, Ryan can't decide now which is worse; her not knowing who he is, or actually knowing who he is and using him for it. Or even worse, she couldn't care less about who he is either way. Ryan doesn't think he could even think about dating someone who doesn't care about the sport he lives for.
Wait. Ryan's only just met the girl and he's already thinking about asking her out. "In that case... I'm John Tavares like I said before. This kid is Ryan Strome. As I said, we play for the New York Islanders. In the NHL." Dylan nods in understanding.
"My dad's from Boston. He's a huge Bruins fan." Ryan almost cringes at the mention of the Bruins, their recent game against them having brought a fight between him and Torey Krug. Ryan's knuckles were still healing. "I remember he did mention Ryan and his fight against a Bruin guy. I was rooting for you; don't tell any of my family this but I hate the Bruins."
Ryan's pounding heart soars at her saying this. John elbows him in his arm, then makes up some excuse about going to get something from another part of the store, leaving Dylan and Ryan alone.
Ryan goes back to his awkward self with no help, and Dylan thinks about just saying goodbye and never seeing him again. However, he finally gets the nerve to say something, pulling Dylan back into the conversation. "So, uh, do you paint?" he asks, gesturing to her shirt covered in splatters of different colors.
She nods and moves to another stand of fruit, gesturing for Ryan to follow. As she grabs some bananas she responds. "I'm an art teacher at an elementary school. I majored in art theory in college and I originally wanted to teach an advanced class at a high school or college. But I'm pretty happy where I am."
"You've already graduated?" Ryan asks, surprised, as he dodges carts in an attempt to keep up with Dylan as she weaves through the aisles.
"I'm older than you," she confirms. "June 1, 1992." Less than a year is all Ryan can think of.
"Wait. How do you know you're older than me if you didn't even know who I was ten minutes ago?" Her face turns a deep scarlet.
"Lucky guess?" she mumbles. Ryan smirks as he realizes she knew who he was all along. "I know what you're thinking, but I know you from all the times my friends say how hot you are and all that, and it's kind of ridiculous how much unnecessary information I know about you without really knowing you."
Ryan can't help the smile on his face. "Well your friends think I'm attractive, but do you?"
"We're not doing this, Strome," Dylan says pointedly.
Ryan follows Dylan through the aisles for the remainder of her trip at the store in silence. Ryan is afraid he's scared her off after asking about that, while Dylan thinks about which new grocery store she can go to so she won't have to face his ego ever again.
"Stromer, let's go!" John calls from the other side of the checkout line, already having paid for his things.
"See you," Ryan mumbles to Dylan. He catches up with his teammate and after a final sympathetic wave from John, they leave.
-
The next week, Dylan comes back to the same grocery store, though at a different time, in an attempt to avoid anymore hockey players. She's almost made it through her trip when she runs her cart into another person. "I am so sorry- oh, uh, hi, John."
John stands at the handle of his cart, a small smile on his face. "Not a problem." Dylan's about to move on, but John catches her before she can leave. "Actually- this may seem a little weird, but Stromer told me about what he said to you last week and he won't shut up about how much of an idiot he is. And I guess we both agree with him.” Dylan can’t help her smile. "But listen, I was kind of the reason he even spoke to you in the first place, so I feel like it's my fault. Can I make it up to you?"
"How?" Dylan questions.
"I'm having a bunch of the guys and their wives and girlfriends over for the Blackhawks game on Saturday- I got the vibe from you that you actually do like hockey. You free?" What Dylan didn't know is John had no intention to hang out with her on Saturday, Ryan would have his head. But Ryan had been off ever since his blunder with this girl, and it was starting to affect his game on the ice. The captain had decided it was time someone stepped in.
"Yeah, I'm free." Dylan was actually looking forward to a potential second chance with the boy.
-
Dylan tugs self-consciously at the seam of her shirt as she gets out of her car in John's driveway. She decided on a plain t-shirt, a pair of leggings and her knee-high spiked boots, but she suddenly regrets those decisions when she sees an effortless WAG in an Islanders jersey and sweatpants.
"Dylan!" John calls from his front door. She plasters on a smile and walk up to his front porch.
John almost throws her into the party scene, then leaves her behind to socialize on her own. She finds herself gravitating towards Johnny Boychuk's wife, Sheena, with their twins. To Dylan's relief, she has Dylan sit down and starts a conversation. By the time the game is about to start and Johnny comes over to the couch, the two are still talking.
There's an empty spot on the couch next to Dylan, and she's about to offer it to one of the other girlfriends, but someone is practically shoved into the spot. Dylan turns to see who it is and finds Ryan, rubbing his arm and glaring off in another direction.
"Hi, Dylan," Ryan seems to force out. Dylan tries to make her smile seem less genuine.
Halfway through the game, Dylan confirms to herself that John invited her in an attempt to give Ryan a second chance. But Ryan's not taking it. She can't decide if she really did completely deter him from her outburst at the grocery store, or if it's nerves holding him back.
Ryan was beyond nervous, sitting as close as he was to Dylan. His stupidity at the grocery store last week made him nervous he could do that again, or somehow do something even worse to scare her off. Nothing he thought of to say sounded completely perfect, so Ryan decided to not say anything at all. He had maintained complete silence between the two of them until halfway through the third period when Sheena decided to step in and help the pair out.
"So, Dylan, you're an art teacher right?" Dylan gave a curt nod in response, keeping her eyes on the TV in front of her. "Well, I've been to Ryan's place and he has some pretty impressive art on his walls."
Dylan takes a glance in Ryan's direction and sees he's blushing. When Ryan stays silent, Sheena searches for anything else the two have in common. She tries again with hockey, but for the second time, neither budges.
Finally, the game is over and Sheena gives up. As she stands, Dylan follows and the two exchange phone numbers as Sheena suggested earlier. Ryan glances around, trying to make an escape, but he can feel John glaring him back into his seat.
Dylan stands hovering near Ryan’s seat glancing at everything around John’s house, just as long as it’s anywhere but him. She can’t be the one to give in; that shows weakness, and she does not recommend that. And it shows a willingness to compromise, and Dylan knew that she was not the one in the wrong here, so she shouldn’t have to compromise for shit.
“Hey, uh, Dylan?”
She spins around to see Ryan getting to his feet and stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “Yeah?” she responds hopefully.
He glances to his side then stares down at his feet. “Did you wanna hang out sometime?”
“Just hang out?” She questions, almost a little disappointed in her own expectations. He stutters for a response before she continues. “Nevermind. Sure.”
His face lights up when she agrees and he fumbles for his phone so they can exchange phone numbers. When he meets her gaze again, he seems calm, but she can see the excitement in his eyes.
-
I’m allergic to tulips by the way -Dylan
Yesterday, Ryan had sent a dozen of the orange flowers to her house after more than likely prying her address from Sheena. And while Dylan was more than thankful for the gesture, she ended up having to give them to her neighbor. Dylan could almost see the grimace Ryan probably made when her text is noted as read.
Sorry... -Ryan
She questions what to respond with when he texts her again.
So our first attempt at plans were ruined, are you free Sunday? -Ryan
Dylan remembers their first try at making plans. Ryan had completely forgotten to check his own schedule, and he had a game the day that they agreed on so he had to cancel last minute.
You check your schedule this time? lol -Dylan
Not making that mistake twice -Ryan
Dylan felt herself blush at his determination to take her out.
Anyway, yeah I’m free. Where are you taking me? -Dylan
It’s a surprise. See you Sunday -Ryan
Sunday came around quicker than Dylan was ready for it. She couldn't deny that she was beyond nervous. Ryan picks her up at her apartment at one, then they head to to the shopping center that included the grocery store they met at. Except, Ryan heads to the other side of the rows of stores to a paint your own pottery store.
The lady standing at the front of the store sets them up once Ryan's picked a bowl and Dylan has a mug in her hands.
Dylan starts with white paint, knowing exactly what kind of design she wants to do, but Ryan stares blankly at his clay bowl. She looks up after a minute and sees that he hasn't even gotten a brush. "Fair warning, I'm probably going to ruin this bowl," he says, glancing to his left at Dylan.
"I don't care," she laughs. "Just paint."
"How?"
Dylan huffs. She grabs a brush from the cup in the middle of the table and dips it in the white paint, swiping it across the inside of the bowl. "Like that," she instructs before pushing the brush into his hand.
She turns back to her mug, then Ryan comes up with another question. "What should I paint?"
"Do your team colors, orange and blue or something. It's your bowl, Ryan, you decide."
Dylan pulls her mug towards her and shifts herself away from him so he can’t see what she’s painting. In the meantime, he splatters his bowl in orange and blue, scribbling out his team logo on the front of the bowl in pencil before filling it in with paint.
He finishes long before Dylan does, so he sits back and attempts to catch little bits of the painting on her mug.
A few minutes later, Dylan leans back against her chair and drops her brush. Ryan looks over and sees a close up of Spongebob. “If you couldn’t tell before, I’m still a child,” she laughs when Ryan looks at her questioningly.
The lady comes over when she sees that they stopped painting, and offers to take their pottery to the kiln. She takes Dylan’s but Ryan tells her that he wants to put a finishing touch on his before she takes it.
He dips his thumb in blue paint then presses it against the inside bottom of the bowl- the only spot he had left untouched. He offers her the orange paint, which she presses her thumb into cautiously. But when he gestures toward the bowl, Dylan’s eyes go wide. “No- I know exactly where you’re going with this. Just- stop, please.”
She stands up abruptly, rushing out of the store without giving a call back number so she can be notified when her mug was ready to be picked up. It takes Ryan a second to realize that Dylan’s gone, but when he hears the door slam open, he snaps out of it and goes after her.
“Dylan- I’m sorry.”
She whirls around, visibly fighting the tears. Whether it was because she was actually wearing makeup today or because she felt like she couldn’t break in front of him, Ryan didn’t know. “Just leave me alone, okay? We tried. It didn’t work. I’m gonna go.”
She starts walking away, but Ryan calls after her again. “At least let me drive you home.”
Dylan shakes her head. “No, no, I can call someone,” she says, already reaching for her phone in her pocket. Ryan nods, defeated, and goes back inside to pay and give the lady his bowl.
He had fucked up. Again. Now he was left with nothing but a meaningless pottery bowl with half of a blue heart that Dylan had refused to complete.
-
"So wait, you're telling me that I fucked up?" Dylan whispers to her friend, Abigail as her third grade class works on their art assignment for the day.
"He was trying to be romantic!" Abby insists, sitting on Dylan's desk at the back of the class room. She glances behind her shoulder every minute or so to keep an eye on the chattering kids.
"You know that kind of stuff scares me," Dylan mumbles, rolling her eyes.
"Miss Reynolds, I finished!" one of the boys calls to Dylan, his hand shooting up. She stands, going to collect his paper and check on everyone else. While she's busy, Abby decides she needs to intervene. She reaches down for Dylan's bag to find her phone and manages to copy Ryan's number into her own phone before Dylan comes back.
"Look, I appreciate that he tried," Dylan continues obliviously as she sits down in her chair. "But I panicked. So I'm going to just let him be."
"Fine. If you're okay with that, then I'll drop it too."
-
Just my opinion, you're in idiot for letting Dyl run away like that -Abby
Who is this? -Ryan
I'm Dylan's friend. She told me about what happened the other day. Like I said. You're an idiot. -Abby
Ryan groans. He had been hearing enough shit from his own teammates about how he had fucked up with Dylan- again.
So what do I do? -Ryan
Abby has to think about that for a minute. Romanticism and narcissism sent Dylan running in the past, but Abby could see that she really did like the guy, despite his blunders.
Relate to her. Nothing too romantic, and don't let your ego show up either. -Abby
"That helps," Ryan mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "What the fuck do I do with this?" He tosses his phone at John who sits in a chair watching last night's highlights. John scans through the messages.
"Invite her to a game?" Ryan shakes his head. He doesn't think throwing her into an unfamiliar situation in front of 17,000 people is a good idea with how he's been doing alone so far with her.
"What about art again?" Griffin suggests from his spot next to Ryan on the couch. "You said she's an art teacher right?"
"What like visit her during one of her classes?" Griffin shrugs. "That's perfect. You're both coming with me."
-
The next week, Ryan, John and Griffin get to school five minutes before Abby told them her class has art. They awkwardly make their way to the receptionist's office where the weird glances begin. When Ryan tells the secretary why they're there, she visibly ogles the three of them as she calls Dylan down to the front office.
Dylan's face is bright red by the time she makes it to the office, glaring at Ryan. When she sees the bags of art supplies, she stops. "What're you all doing here?"
Ryan lifts one of the bags, "We're going to sit in on one of your classes."
"I'm only letting you guys come because I know Abby has to have something to do with this." With that, she leads them out of the office and down the hallway to her room just as Abby's class files into the room. Dylan plasters on a smile as she walks in behind them. "Okay, guys, I have some special guests who are going to be sitting in on class today."
The three hockey players walk into the room with their introduction, easily recognizable with their jerseys on. They leave all the supplies Ryan had bought on a table at the front of the room, the three guys dispersing themselves among the kids, though Ryan is careful to stay near the back where Dylan heads, probably to chew Abby out.
"What the hell, Abs?" he hears even over the chatter of the kids. "Why did you bring him here? I told you I wanted to get over it and you said you would drop it!" Ryan turns just enough so he can see the sheepish look on Abby's face.
"You like him, you can't deny that. I was just trying to help you," she counters.
Dylan huffs and Ryan snaps his attention to one of the kid's paintings as she stands up. "I don't want him here," she says so quietly that he almost thinks he misheard her. But when he sees Abby's sympathetic look, he knows he did hear right.
He goes up to John at the front of the room. "Give me the keys."
"What?" John questions, turning away from a girl's painting.
"I know when I'm not wanted and I can take a hint. I'll sit out in the car and wait for you guys."
John is still completely clueless about what Ryan is going on about, but he hands him the keys anyway. Once Ryan's left the room, John nods at the girl reassuringly and tells her he'll be right back. He moves across the room to Dylan.
"You need to go talk to him."
"Who?" she asks, glancing up at John.
"Ryan. He just walked out."
"Why does that concern me?" Dylan moves to the front of the room with a boy's painting, putting it on the drying rack.
"That kid spent almost $300 on art supplies. The guy at the store probably took advantage of him- he's so clueless about that kind of stuff. And I'm sure if you asked him, he'd say he did it for the kids, but we both know that he's desperate to impress you and this is the only way he knows how."
-
"Ryan?" he hears from beside him. He opens his eyes and sees Dylan, leaning against the door of John's car, looking guilty. "Why'd you leave?"
Ryan laughs sarcastically, "I heard you in there talking to Abby. And don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I don't think you understand-"
"But I do. Don't you have a class to teach?" Ryan knows he's being harsh, but he rationalizes it when he remembers all the times she went running because she was uncomfortable in a situation.
"Fine. I know you're mad at me and you have every right to be mad, I was a bitch to you," she relents. "But I didn't come out here for that. I just wanted to give you something." With that, she brings her other hand into Ryan's line of vision. In it, is his bowl he covered in Islanders colors at the paint your own pottery place. She puts it on his lap then backs away, heading back into the school.
Ryan glances it over before he notices something different about the bowl. The heart on the inside has been completed with an orange thumb print overlapping his, much smaller than his own.
"Dylan! Wait up!"
"Excuse me," he hears from behind him. He turns to look and sees a petite girl, barely coming up to his shoulder. She wears her dark hair pushed messily on top of her head, the rest of her wardrobe just as unkempt. Yet somehow, to Ryan, it works on her. He steps back as he continues to take her in.
The front of her t-shirt is splattered with paint, her jeans tattered and her red converse dulled and worn.
She bags her fruit then backs away. As she ties the knot around the bag, she notices the strange boy is staring at her. She suddenly regrets going out with no make up as she notices his faint smile.
The girl stays for a second, hoping Ryan will be the first to make a move. However, the longer he stands still gawking, more and more hope leaves the girl.
"Stromer!" someone calls from another produce stand. The boy's head whips around to meet the voice as the man who owns it walks toward the pair, quiet and awkward.
He starts saying something to Ryan quietly, not acknowledging the girl. However, when Ryan clears his throat and raises his eyebrows in the direction of the girl, John turns around. He backs up a bit to create a sort of triangle, looking at Ryan expectantly. Ryan glances around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he desperately searches for something to say. He tries to introduce himself, but then also ask how she is, the two jumbling themselves into what Ryan actually says, "I'm are you...?"
His voice fades as he realizes his mix up, his face reddening as John's laugh bellows.
"I think Stromer was trying to introduce himself. He's Ryan, I'm John, his friend I guess. And you are?" Ryan glances at John thankfully as the girl sets her bag in the front basket of her cart. Ryan's afraid she's going to leave, and he's even more afraid his fear is written all over his face for the girl to see.
She turns back towards the pair of men, uncomfortable with the sudden masculine attention. "I'm Dylan."
"Isn't that your brother's name?" she hears John mutter to Ryan. He elbows him in the side, giving him a hard look. Dylan giggles, then stops when she realizes she doesn't giggle.
"Asshole," Ryan says to his friend. Dylan feels a sense of appreciation. She's only just met the boy, and he's already defending her. She looks them over as they bicker between themselves.
Ryan, who she had previously seen as a boy of sorts now appears as a man, the results of frequent exercise blatantly obvious through a t-shirt layered under a baggy flannel. Dylan thinks to ask what he does that keeps himself in shape. John seems the same, muscular, though she can see the tiny love handles just barely hanging over the waistband of his jeans.
"So what do you two do for a living?" Dylan cuts in. They stop glaring at each other only to look at her like she's gone crazy.
"You don't recognize us?" John says, tugging at the baseball hat loosely hanging on the crown of his head. Dylan shrugs. "John Tavares? Ryan Strome? New York Islanders?...Nothing?"
No look of realization crosses her face, no gasp of surprise, and Ryan is almost relieved that he's finally met someone who can't use him for his fame- she almost seems not to care. Although, Ryan can't decide now which is worse; her not knowing who he is, or actually knowing who he is and using him for it. Or even worse, she couldn't care less about who he is either way. Ryan doesn't think he could even think about dating someone who doesn't care about the sport he lives for.
Wait. Ryan's only just met the girl and he's already thinking about asking her out. "In that case... I'm John Tavares like I said before. This kid is Ryan Strome. As I said, we play for the New York Islanders. In the NHL." Dylan nods in understanding.
"My dad's from Boston. He's a huge Bruins fan." Ryan almost cringes at the mention of the Bruins, their recent game against them having brought a fight between him and Torey Krug. Ryan's knuckles were still healing. "I remember he did mention Ryan and his fight against a Bruin guy. I was rooting for you; don't tell any of my family this but I hate the Bruins."
Ryan's pounding heart soars at her saying this. John elbows him in his arm, then makes up some excuse about going to get something from another part of the store, leaving Dylan and Ryan alone.
Ryan goes back to his awkward self with no help, and Dylan thinks about just saying goodbye and never seeing him again. However, he finally gets the nerve to say something, pulling Dylan back into the conversation. "So, uh, do you paint?" he asks, gesturing to her shirt covered in splatters of different colors.
She nods and moves to another stand of fruit, gesturing for Ryan to follow. As she grabs some bananas she responds. "I'm an art teacher at an elementary school. I majored in art theory in college and I originally wanted to teach an advanced class at a high school or college. But I'm pretty happy where I am."
"You've already graduated?" Ryan asks, surprised, as he dodges carts in an attempt to keep up with Dylan as she weaves through the aisles.
"I'm older than you," she confirms. "June 1, 1992." Less than a year is all Ryan can think of.
"Wait. How do you know you're older than me if you didn't even know who I was ten minutes ago?" Her face turns a deep scarlet.
"Lucky guess?" she mumbles. Ryan smirks as he realizes she knew who he was all along. "I know what you're thinking, but I know you from all the times my friends say how hot you are and all that, and it's kind of ridiculous how much unnecessary information I know about you without really knowing you."
Ryan can't help the smile on his face. "Well your friends think I'm attractive, but do you?"
"We're not doing this, Strome," Dylan says pointedly.
Ryan follows Dylan through the aisles for the remainder of her trip at the store in silence. Ryan is afraid he's scared her off after asking about that, while Dylan thinks about which new grocery store she can go to so she won't have to face his ego ever again.
"Stromer, let's go!" John calls from the other side of the checkout line, already having paid for his things.
"See you," Ryan mumbles to Dylan. He catches up with his teammate and after a final sympathetic wave from John, they leave.
-
The next week, Dylan comes back to the same grocery store, though at a different time, in an attempt to avoid anymore hockey players. She's almost made it through her trip when she runs her cart into another person. "I am so sorry- oh, uh, hi, John."
John stands at the handle of his cart, a small smile on his face. "Not a problem." Dylan's about to move on, but John catches her before she can leave. "Actually- this may seem a little weird, but Stromer told me about what he said to you last week and he won't shut up about how much of an idiot he is. And I guess we both agree with him.” Dylan can’t help her smile. "But listen, I was kind of the reason he even spoke to you in the first place, so I feel like it's my fault. Can I make it up to you?"
"How?" Dylan questions.
"I'm having a bunch of the guys and their wives and girlfriends over for the Blackhawks game on Saturday- I got the vibe from you that you actually do like hockey. You free?" What Dylan didn't know is John had no intention to hang out with her on Saturday, Ryan would have his head. But Ryan had been off ever since his blunder with this girl, and it was starting to affect his game on the ice. The captain had decided it was time someone stepped in.
"Yeah, I'm free." Dylan was actually looking forward to a potential second chance with the boy.
-
Dylan tugs self-consciously at the seam of her shirt as she gets out of her car in John's driveway. She decided on a plain t-shirt, a pair of leggings and her knee-high spiked boots, but she suddenly regrets those decisions when she sees an effortless WAG in an Islanders jersey and sweatpants.
"Dylan!" John calls from his front door. She plasters on a smile and walk up to his front porch.
John almost throws her into the party scene, then leaves her behind to socialize on her own. She finds herself gravitating towards Johnny Boychuk's wife, Sheena, with their twins. To Dylan's relief, she has Dylan sit down and starts a conversation. By the time the game is about to start and Johnny comes over to the couch, the two are still talking.
There's an empty spot on the couch next to Dylan, and she's about to offer it to one of the other girlfriends, but someone is practically shoved into the spot. Dylan turns to see who it is and finds Ryan, rubbing his arm and glaring off in another direction.
"Hi, Dylan," Ryan seems to force out. Dylan tries to make her smile seem less genuine.
Halfway through the game, Dylan confirms to herself that John invited her in an attempt to give Ryan a second chance. But Ryan's not taking it. She can't decide if she really did completely deter him from her outburst at the grocery store, or if it's nerves holding him back.
Ryan was beyond nervous, sitting as close as he was to Dylan. His stupidity at the grocery store last week made him nervous he could do that again, or somehow do something even worse to scare her off. Nothing he thought of to say sounded completely perfect, so Ryan decided to not say anything at all. He had maintained complete silence between the two of them until halfway through the third period when Sheena decided to step in and help the pair out.
"So, Dylan, you're an art teacher right?" Dylan gave a curt nod in response, keeping her eyes on the TV in front of her. "Well, I've been to Ryan's place and he has some pretty impressive art on his walls."
Dylan takes a glance in Ryan's direction and sees he's blushing. When Ryan stays silent, Sheena searches for anything else the two have in common. She tries again with hockey, but for the second time, neither budges.
Finally, the game is over and Sheena gives up. As she stands, Dylan follows and the two exchange phone numbers as Sheena suggested earlier. Ryan glances around, trying to make an escape, but he can feel John glaring him back into his seat.
Dylan stands hovering near Ryan’s seat glancing at everything around John’s house, just as long as it’s anywhere but him. She can’t be the one to give in; that shows weakness, and she does not recommend that. And it shows a willingness to compromise, and Dylan knew that she was not the one in the wrong here, so she shouldn’t have to compromise for shit.
“Hey, uh, Dylan?”
She spins around to see Ryan getting to his feet and stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “Yeah?” she responds hopefully.
He glances to his side then stares down at his feet. “Did you wanna hang out sometime?”
“Just hang out?” She questions, almost a little disappointed in her own expectations. He stutters for a response before she continues. “Nevermind. Sure.”
His face lights up when she agrees and he fumbles for his phone so they can exchange phone numbers. When he meets her gaze again, he seems calm, but she can see the excitement in his eyes.
-
I’m allergic to tulips by the way -Dylan
Yesterday, Ryan had sent a dozen of the orange flowers to her house after more than likely prying her address from Sheena. And while Dylan was more than thankful for the gesture, she ended up having to give them to her neighbor. Dylan could almost see the grimace Ryan probably made when her text is noted as read.
Sorry... -Ryan
She questions what to respond with when he texts her again.
So our first attempt at plans were ruined, are you free Sunday? -Ryan
Dylan remembers their first try at making plans. Ryan had completely forgotten to check his own schedule, and he had a game the day that they agreed on so he had to cancel last minute.
You check your schedule this time? lol -Dylan
Not making that mistake twice -Ryan
Dylan felt herself blush at his determination to take her out.
Anyway, yeah I’m free. Where are you taking me? -Dylan
It’s a surprise. See you Sunday -Ryan
Sunday came around quicker than Dylan was ready for it. She couldn't deny that she was beyond nervous. Ryan picks her up at her apartment at one, then they head to to the shopping center that included the grocery store they met at. Except, Ryan heads to the other side of the rows of stores to a paint your own pottery store.
The lady standing at the front of the store sets them up once Ryan's picked a bowl and Dylan has a mug in her hands.
Dylan starts with white paint, knowing exactly what kind of design she wants to do, but Ryan stares blankly at his clay bowl. She looks up after a minute and sees that he hasn't even gotten a brush. "Fair warning, I'm probably going to ruin this bowl," he says, glancing to his left at Dylan.
"I don't care," she laughs. "Just paint."
"How?"
Dylan huffs. She grabs a brush from the cup in the middle of the table and dips it in the white paint, swiping it across the inside of the bowl. "Like that," she instructs before pushing the brush into his hand.
She turns back to her mug, then Ryan comes up with another question. "What should I paint?"
"Do your team colors, orange and blue or something. It's your bowl, Ryan, you decide."
Dylan pulls her mug towards her and shifts herself away from him so he can’t see what she’s painting. In the meantime, he splatters his bowl in orange and blue, scribbling out his team logo on the front of the bowl in pencil before filling it in with paint.
He finishes long before Dylan does, so he sits back and attempts to catch little bits of the painting on her mug.
A few minutes later, Dylan leans back against her chair and drops her brush. Ryan looks over and sees a close up of Spongebob. “If you couldn’t tell before, I’m still a child,” she laughs when Ryan looks at her questioningly.
The lady comes over when she sees that they stopped painting, and offers to take their pottery to the kiln. She takes Dylan’s but Ryan tells her that he wants to put a finishing touch on his before she takes it.
He dips his thumb in blue paint then presses it against the inside bottom of the bowl- the only spot he had left untouched. He offers her the orange paint, which she presses her thumb into cautiously. But when he gestures toward the bowl, Dylan’s eyes go wide. “No- I know exactly where you’re going with this. Just- stop, please.”
She stands up abruptly, rushing out of the store without giving a call back number so she can be notified when her mug was ready to be picked up. It takes Ryan a second to realize that Dylan’s gone, but when he hears the door slam open, he snaps out of it and goes after her.
“Dylan- I’m sorry.”
She whirls around, visibly fighting the tears. Whether it was because she was actually wearing makeup today or because she felt like she couldn’t break in front of him, Ryan didn’t know. “Just leave me alone, okay? We tried. It didn’t work. I’m gonna go.”
She starts walking away, but Ryan calls after her again. “At least let me drive you home.”
Dylan shakes her head. “No, no, I can call someone,” she says, already reaching for her phone in her pocket. Ryan nods, defeated, and goes back inside to pay and give the lady his bowl.
He had fucked up. Again. Now he was left with nothing but a meaningless pottery bowl with half of a blue heart that Dylan had refused to complete.
-
"So wait, you're telling me that I fucked up?" Dylan whispers to her friend, Abigail as her third grade class works on their art assignment for the day.
"He was trying to be romantic!" Abby insists, sitting on Dylan's desk at the back of the class room. She glances behind her shoulder every minute or so to keep an eye on the chattering kids.
"You know that kind of stuff scares me," Dylan mumbles, rolling her eyes.
"Miss Reynolds, I finished!" one of the boys calls to Dylan, his hand shooting up. She stands, going to collect his paper and check on everyone else. While she's busy, Abby decides she needs to intervene. She reaches down for Dylan's bag to find her phone and manages to copy Ryan's number into her own phone before Dylan comes back.
"Look, I appreciate that he tried," Dylan continues obliviously as she sits down in her chair. "But I panicked. So I'm going to just let him be."
"Fine. If you're okay with that, then I'll drop it too."
-
Just my opinion, you're in idiot for letting Dyl run away like that -Abby
Who is this? -Ryan
I'm Dylan's friend. She told me about what happened the other day. Like I said. You're an idiot. -Abby
Ryan groans. He had been hearing enough shit from his own teammates about how he had fucked up with Dylan- again.
So what do I do? -Ryan
Abby has to think about that for a minute. Romanticism and narcissism sent Dylan running in the past, but Abby could see that she really did like the guy, despite his blunders.
Relate to her. Nothing too romantic, and don't let your ego show up either. -Abby
"That helps," Ryan mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "What the fuck do I do with this?" He tosses his phone at John who sits in a chair watching last night's highlights. John scans through the messages.
"Invite her to a game?" Ryan shakes his head. He doesn't think throwing her into an unfamiliar situation in front of 17,000 people is a good idea with how he's been doing alone so far with her.
"What about art again?" Griffin suggests from his spot next to Ryan on the couch. "You said she's an art teacher right?"
"What like visit her during one of her classes?" Griffin shrugs. "That's perfect. You're both coming with me."
-
The next week, Ryan, John and Griffin get to school five minutes before Abby told them her class has art. They awkwardly make their way to the receptionist's office where the weird glances begin. When Ryan tells the secretary why they're there, she visibly ogles the three of them as she calls Dylan down to the front office.
Dylan's face is bright red by the time she makes it to the office, glaring at Ryan. When she sees the bags of art supplies, she stops. "What're you all doing here?"
Ryan lifts one of the bags, "We're going to sit in on one of your classes."
"I'm only letting you guys come because I know Abby has to have something to do with this." With that, she leads them out of the office and down the hallway to her room just as Abby's class files into the room. Dylan plasters on a smile as she walks in behind them. "Okay, guys, I have some special guests who are going to be sitting in on class today."
The three hockey players walk into the room with their introduction, easily recognizable with their jerseys on. They leave all the supplies Ryan had bought on a table at the front of the room, the three guys dispersing themselves among the kids, though Ryan is careful to stay near the back where Dylan heads, probably to chew Abby out.
"What the hell, Abs?" he hears even over the chatter of the kids. "Why did you bring him here? I told you I wanted to get over it and you said you would drop it!" Ryan turns just enough so he can see the sheepish look on Abby's face.
"You like him, you can't deny that. I was just trying to help you," she counters.
Dylan huffs and Ryan snaps his attention to one of the kid's paintings as she stands up. "I don't want him here," she says so quietly that he almost thinks he misheard her. But when he sees Abby's sympathetic look, he knows he did hear right.
He goes up to John at the front of the room. "Give me the keys."
"What?" John questions, turning away from a girl's painting.
"I know when I'm not wanted and I can take a hint. I'll sit out in the car and wait for you guys."
John is still completely clueless about what Ryan is going on about, but he hands him the keys anyway. Once Ryan's left the room, John nods at the girl reassuringly and tells her he'll be right back. He moves across the room to Dylan.
"You need to go talk to him."
"Who?" she asks, glancing up at John.
"Ryan. He just walked out."
"Why does that concern me?" Dylan moves to the front of the room with a boy's painting, putting it on the drying rack.
"That kid spent almost $300 on art supplies. The guy at the store probably took advantage of him- he's so clueless about that kind of stuff. And I'm sure if you asked him, he'd say he did it for the kids, but we both know that he's desperate to impress you and this is the only way he knows how."
-
"Ryan?" he hears from beside him. He opens his eyes and sees Dylan, leaning against the door of John's car, looking guilty. "Why'd you leave?"
Ryan laughs sarcastically, "I heard you in there talking to Abby. And don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I don't think you understand-"
"But I do. Don't you have a class to teach?" Ryan knows he's being harsh, but he rationalizes it when he remembers all the times she went running because she was uncomfortable in a situation.
"Fine. I know you're mad at me and you have every right to be mad, I was a bitch to you," she relents. "But I didn't come out here for that. I just wanted to give you something." With that, she brings her other hand into Ryan's line of vision. In it, is his bowl he covered in Islanders colors at the paint your own pottery place. She puts it on his lap then backs away, heading back into the school.
Ryan glances it over before he notices something different about the bowl. The heart on the inside has been completed with an orange thumb print overlapping his, much smaller than his own.
"Dylan! Wait up!"