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“Okay.” I nod, wondering if it’s the best idea.
I think I’m on good terms with Oakley and Chase now, but she was once my girlfriend. And we didn’t exactly part amicably at the time. I haven’t seen either of them in a while. I’m hoping there is no more bad blood between the three of us and that an intimate dinner won’t be awkward later. But it sounds like a better option than ordering room service alone.
Ollie moves past me, and I head in the other direction, taking long, languid strides to warm up my muscles. We’re in the afternoon skate around, which is optional. But I like getting a feel for the ice and stretching my legs after traveling. I line up some pucks and start taking shots on our backup goalie. The muscle memory is second nature at this point, and it allows my mind to drift.
My memory flashes with images of Doe again. I can’t stop thinking about her, though I’m not ready to admit that yet. The way she looked that night at the bar. The way she looked at me later during the walk home, like I was the key to solving all her problems. No woman has ever looked at me like that before. Not even Oakley.
I’m not sure what’s happening between Emerson and me. I just know that it feels good, and I seem powerless to stop it. I hope that kissing her wasn’t a mistake. She was drunk and not thinking straight. Did I take advantage of the situation? Did I take advantage of her? Did she want it as much as I did at that moment?
I have tendencies to be impulsive, doing whatever feels right at the time. It’s gotten me in trouble more than once. I don’t dwell too much on the future or think everything that happens must mean something monumental. But that kiss … it felt like it meant something.
After the other night, I can admit to myself that Emerson caught my eye, even though she wasn’t trying to. But now that I’ve kissed her and we’ve crossed some invisible line, I want to do it again. But I’m uncharacteristically cautious. I have this innate desire to do things differently with her, and I’m not sure exactly where that originates from. I want to take things slowly and go at her pace, whatever that is. I don’t want to mess things up. I’ve gotten to know her these past few weeks. I’ve seen the woman beneath the surface, and I like what I’ve seen. She’s soft and gentle, but she can be fierce and go toe to toe with me when needed. That woman has no trouble putting me in my place, which never fails to bring a smile to my face. I didn’t realize that was something I needed until recently. I get bored quickly with women I can walk all over.
The interaction between Emerson and her sister was eye-opening too. Their relationship seemed complicated, though what family isn’t? There was an unspoken tension there, but Em never mentioned it in the aftermath. I could see the strain on her face when Eve popped up at the bar, though I didn’t realize it was her family at the time. Emerson couldn’t walk away fast enough, and after she left, Eve was all over me. Running her fingers up my chest. Touching my arm. Pressing her fake tits against my arm. It’s the same song and dance I’ve experienced countless times over the years when a woman serves herself on a platter to me. But I was surprised that this was Emerson’s sister because they are complete opposites. Where Emerson is understated and challenging, her sister is brash and forward.
When I let Eve know that I wasn’t interested, it only seemed to motivate her to pursue me harder. I finally begged Cruz to take her out of my hands. She’s hot, so it wasn’t a hardship on his part.
The funny thing is, Eve is exactly my type. My body count consists of countless women just like her. But that night, I didn’t look twice in Eve’s direction. And that had everything to do with her sister and the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
What is happening to me?
I’ve always been emotionally unavailable. I guess I prided myself on being untouchable. And then this girl-next-door type was forced on me with her sharp tongue and soft angles. Her raspy voice stirred something in my stomach, mostly anger in the beginning, especially when those golden-brown eyes threw accusations at me from across the room. But somewhere along the way, I started to enjoy our conversations. I pushed her buttons to incite her anger, taking pleasure in the banter that followed. Her opinion began to matter to me. I no longer wanted to disappoint her.
And now, life is thrust into black and white and hues of gray because she sucks all the color out of every room.
I don’t know if I love or hate it, but I’m sure it has me off-balance. I’m having emotions that I’ve never felt before. And I’m not quite sure I know what to do with them. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll have a choice the next time we come face-to-face because I seem to be led by instincts that I don’t understand lately. Like the other night when we kissed, even though there were a million reasons why we shouldn’t. But I couldn’t not kiss her.
Our time on the ice ends, and the afternoon goes by quickly. The game goes by even quicker. We win 2–1, but not without some effort. Chase is one of the best defensemen in the league, and he doesn’t make it easy for our team to score. But I wouldn’t expect him to. Our two goals are scored when he’s off the ice.
Ollie and I shower and leave the arena together afterward, taking a rideshare to a restaurant Chase and Oakley suggested.
“Do they know I’m coming?” I ask Ollie as the car is pulling up to the curb.
“They know,” he assures me, smirking at my nervousness. “Relax … we’re all friends here.”
We exit the car and walk into the restaurant. Ollie gives his name to the hostess at the front, and she leads us to a table in the back, where Oakley and Chase are waiting. They rise as we approach, their faces all smiles. Chase reaches me first, pulling me into a one-armed hug.
“Anderson,” he says.
“What’s up, Matthews?” I respond, slapping his back. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
We exchange partners, Chase greeting Ollie while Oakley turns to me. She’s just as beautiful as I remember, maybe even more so now. Her dark hair is long and still falls in waves down her back. Her big turquoise eyes glow through the dim lighting of the restaurant, and she’s smiling up at me with that gentle smile of hers. I pull her into a friendly hug.
“Hi, Sam,” she says, her cheek momentarily pressed against my chest.
“Hi, Oakley.”
She’s familiar and foreign at the same time.
I release her. “How are you?”
“I’m great. How are you? Are you liking Chicago?”
“I’m loving it,” I say honestly. “It’s been a good move for me.”
We settle into our seats, Chase and Oakley on one side of the table, and Ollie and me across from them. We order drinks when the waitress appears, study the menu for a few minutes while making small talk, and then focus on each other.
