The Bowl

The first time that Ryan used the bowl was on his and Dylan’s next date, a week after she had given it to him. The kiln had shrunk it considerably, but it was big enough to hold enough popcorn for the two of them as they sat on Dylan’s couch in her apartment, watching a movie.

Dylan had flushed when he came around the corner of the kitchen into the living room and she noticed the bowl, and Ryan smiled. He was always the one flustered when they were together, and it gave him a sudden surge of confidence as he settled next to her and put his arm across the back of the couch.

He noticed that once the bowl was empty and the movie had ended, Dylan was peering into the bowl, a small smile on her face. She looked up at him from her spot curled into his side, and boldly, he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. Dylan hid behind her hair for the next movie, but by the end, she had practically crawled into his lap, half asleep.

Ryan, unwilling to disturb her, tried his best to pick her up and find his way to her room. Once she was under the covers, he kissed her forehead, “I’ll call you in the morning. Goodnight, Dylan.”

Dylan mumbled something unintelligible as a response which only made Ryan laugh as he backed out of the room, turning out all the lights and locking her front door behind him.

-

With the approaching summer came a tighter schedule for both Ryan and Dylan as he prepared for the playoffs and she wrapped up her school year. There was only time for cursory meetings after the dwindling number of regular season games, and the occasional dinner date on a Friday or Saturday night when Ryan didn’t have a game.

The bowl reappeared weeks later as Dylan sat with Ryan at the island in her kitchen. He was trying his hardest to not let the fact that the Islanders had been eliminated from the playoffs earlier in the week effect his mood as they chatted idly while Dylan cooked dinner for the both of them.

Once they had finished and the plates had been cleared, Dylan went searching in her cabinets for the piece of pottery before filling it with three scoops of ice cream. She grabbed two spoons then rejoined Ryan at the counter. When she had regained Ryan’s attention, he immediately noticed the vivid blue and orange. He couldn’t help the smile as he took one of the offered spoons and dug in.

From their spot on Dylan’s bed an hour later, Ryan lifted his head to look down at her where she was laid against his chest. “Thank you,” he practically whispered. She gave a smile and pushed herself up to kiss him before they both resettled for the night under the covers.

-

The bowl became a staple in the pair’s meals whenever they were at Dylan’s apartment or when she brought something over for Ryan. Somehow it always ended up back in Dylan’s cabinets no matter how many times she left it over there. Ryan insisted that somehow he would manage to drop it, so Dylan was continually met with their bowl being practically shoved back into her hands whenever he came over.

It followed them across the border when Dylan went home with Ryan to Mississauga that summer. Every morning, Dylan woke to see Ryan in the kitchen of his childhood home, hunched over the bowl full of cereal. He would smile when he saw her, and pull her into his side as he kissed her good morning. Dylan was simply surprised that a basic piece of pottery could hold enough meaning for Ryan to go looking for it every morning for breakfast.

-

Two weeks before the start of training camp, Ryan and Dylan were in her bedroom, busy emptying Dylan’s apartment and filling boxes with its contents. Summer had been good to them—they had spent almost all of July apart because of Ryan’s training and classes that Dylan had signed up to teach, but the moment Ryan got back to New York, he was at Dylan’s door, ready to ask her to move in with him. The month apart had been driving both of them crazy, only being able to communicate on the phone or skype and Ryan was desperate like he always seemed to be in the six months since he’d met Dylan.

They had been talking as they packed about the season and Dylan’s classes when she cut herself off in the middle of her sentence. Ryan looked over at her with a confused expression before he saw their bowl in her hands. He walked up to her and smiled when her eyes met his. They hadn’t been able to use the bowl in well over a month. “I brought it in here a few days after you left,” she laughed, “I honestly forgot about it I’ve been so busy. I thought it was still in the kitchen cabinet.”

Ryan pressed a kiss to her lips, sliding the bowl out of her hands. “Packing can wait a few minutes for popcorn, right?”

-

He had been gone on the first road trip of the season when Ryan and Dylan had gotten into the fight. They both knew it had been petty, but like all of the disagreements that they had so far, neither was willing to budge on their opinion.

Ryan had been out with a few of the guys after their win in DC, and had decided to call Dylan in hopes that she was still awake. She was, but she was in no mood for talking. He didn’t even remember why she was upset before he had called—he didn’t think he even had the chance to ask before Dylan had started up on her lecture, scolding him like he was one of her students.

That only set off Ryan, and he made no attempt to hide the argument from his teammates, though he could tell they were doing a very bad job at trying to hide the fact that they were listening.

They both went to bed that night angry, and they didn’t talk for the next three days while the Islanders wrapped up their road trip with another win in Pittsburgh.

However, Ryan had to face it when he came up to their apartment door late the night the team got back into New York. It was well past one in the morning by the time he had made it home, and he was banking on the idea that Dylan was asleep already, too angry still to want to wait up for him. He was beyond exhausted and needed sleep, not another argument.

Instead of either of those, he was met with the TV in the living room still turned on, and Dylan sat on the couch, facing the door, waiting for him. She gave an apologetic smile that Ryan could only see because of the light of the TV. When she got within a foot of him, his anger at whatever he was originally upset about had vanished, and he took her into his arms. She cradled his face as he bent to kiss her, both of them whispering a sorry when they pulled apart.

Dylan took his hand and led him to their room once she had turned off the TV. “I’ll be right back,” she said. Ryan took the time before she came back to get out of his suit and into a pair of sweatpants.

She came back with a bowl and a spoon, offering them both to Ryan. He couldn’t help the grin as he saw the familiar blue and orange of his team colors across the bowl full of ice cream. They snuggled together, bathed in the dim light of the TV as they shared the ice cream.

Dylan drifted off a while later, practically on top of Ryan as her head was nestled in the space between his neck and collarbone. Once he had finished the ice cream, he could just make out the heart that his and Dylan’s fingerprints made at the bottom of the bowl.