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“Ah, so Italian,” I said while making our way past the newly added weight room.
“Possibly. Either the bakery over in Elmira that’s run by some distant relative of his that’s fifteen times removed or the gas station in town for a breakfast burrito. Want to wager on which one?”
I took that bet, banking on the bakery. And I won. Bean bought my baked goods and coffee, and I got to send Marcus a text with six little words that made a world of difference to us.
The guys are cool with us. ~ B
***
“Babe, stop fiddling with your tie. You look amazing.” I forced my hands back to my lap as we crept through the snowy streets of Wilkes-Barre. “I’m not sure why you wore a tie anyway. I told you this was casual.”
Staring at the modest homes all decked out in their holiday finery, I felt acid churning in my gut. Probably too much coffee, some would say. That someone was obviously not Thai.
“I wanted to make a good first impression,” I replied flatly. Marcus chuckled softly. I snuck a peek at him sitting behind the wheel, looking so damn fine in his white sweater and black jeans.
“Baskoro, my love, they already know you,” he pointed out. “The first impression took place two years ago when you shut us out in your debut game against the Comets.”
“No, that’s not the true first impression,” I politely argued, happy for something to dwell on other than this impending dinner with Marcus and his teammates. “That was a professional first impression. This is a personal first impression that has to be made to some of your closest friends. The debut game was hockey. This is off the ice, two different things. And I know you said they were down with us being together—”
“They are. Totally down with it, so please, stop chewing on that pretty bottom lip of yours. That’s my lip to nibble.” He reached over to rub my thigh. “It’s a small party, just Ooni and Crispy, plus any dates they bring. Most of the other guys have hightailed it home for the holidays, like your team.”
Right. Yeah, I knew all of this. Deep down I had all the details about this little gathering on the evening before Christmas Eve day. Small dinner with half a dozen people at most.
“Are they bringing dates?” I asked just as we pulled to a stop sign. The snow that had fallen earlier as I’d driven down from New York State gave the roads a slight icy sheen so driving was a little dicey. Marcus handled the slippery streets with practiced ease of one who had grown up in a cold climate. I tended to tense up whenever the roads got the least bit slick, a tic picked up from my parents who abhorred driving in bad weather. Yes, parents, your kids could inherit your fears as well as your propensity for male pattern baldness.
“Not that I heard,” he replied, easing away from the stop sign, and then turning left onto a tiny street filled with middle-class homes. Each house on the street had lights in the windows. Some had those huge inflatable decorations as well. One was of a round little bear in a Santa hat and it made me smile. I’d bought Banyu a Santa teddy for his first Christmas. One of about two thousand gifts he would get, I was sure. Between his grandparents, his uncle, and his parents, the child would be buried in presents on the big day.
“Okay,” I answered, pulling my gaze from the wobbly lighted bear to the small home we pulled up in front of. “Is this Ooni’s place?”
“It is. Nice, huh?” Marcus asked as he unbuckled and tossed his door open, allowing all the warm air to get sucked out of the car.
I nodded. It was a nice place. Nothing grand but nicely tended. That was obvious. Blue siding, white shutters, and a string of multicolored lights wound around a naked white birch in the front yard. I got out of the car, rubbed my hands together, and took a deep breath. Marcus tapped my shoulder. I looked his way. His lips found mine, the kiss sweet as the candy cane Kyleen had forced me to eat when I’d arrived at Marcus’s place a few hours ago.
“It will be fine,” he assured me, then slid his fingers between mine. With his kiss lingering on my mouth, I followed, his grip steady, to the front door. No sooner had he rung the bell than the door opened to show Ooni wearing an apron over a green sweater and jeans, the apron imploring people to kiss the cook. “Hey, man, something smells good.”
“Everything smells good,” Ooni replied with a smile and hustled us inside. There he took our coats, then offered me his hand. “Welcome to my house, Baskoro. The food is almost ready. We’re going to eat in the kitchen as it saves me toting everything to the living room.”
“He made so much that it would take several hours and a forklift to move it all,” Crispy joked as he entered the hallway where we were toeing off our snowy shoes. Ooni gave him this odd look and snorted in amusement.
“It is true, I did make far too much, but I did not know what you enjoyed, Baskoro, so I maybe overdid. Finnish food is very delicious but sometimes Americans have issues with some of it, but I did make some Thai food for you in case you dislike all the fish.”
“Dude, I love fish,” I hurried to reassure him as he handed us slippers to slide our feet into, then led us into the kitchen. It was obvious even to my non-cooking eye that this food prep area was well loved. The appliances were all state-of-the-art, shiny and sleek. There were pots and pans and dried herbs hanging from hooks along the ceiling. The smells that greeted us were mouthwatering and the food…well, the long table was holding so many varied dishes that finding a place for a plate was going to be tricky.
“I thought we could eat at the island?” Ooni offered, sheepishly. Crispy laughed and hugged the lanky blond goalie into his side, holding him close for perhaps a few seconds longer than just buddies might hug. I threw a fast look at Marcus, but he hadn’t noticed the moment. His attention was on all the food.
“Ooni, this spread could feed the whole team,” Marcus said, passing me a dish from a stack on the island.
“I told him to cut back, but you know how he is when he gets cooking,” Crispy said as he handed me some flatware. “Dig in, Basky. You’re the honored guest, so you get to go first.”
And so I did, with gusto. I filled my plate with all kinds of new foods as well as some of the salmon curry that was so delicious I had seconds. Then asked for some to take home. We ate and laughed like old friends, sipped mulled wine that was served warm over blanched almonds and raisins, and then shared stories of our youth hockey days. By midnight, I was sleepy, my head fluffy fuzzy from all the warm wine and a full belly. Marcus nudged me awake a few times, then decided it was time to go home.
“Are you not fuzzy?” I asked as he helped me get my coat and shoes on. Ooni and Crispy seemed rather giggly, but not Marcus.
“No, I only had one cup of wine with the meal. Someone had to stay sober,” he teased as I swayed a bit and lunged at Ooni to hug him goodbye. “Easy now,” he said when we both teetered into Crispy, who had donned a set of stuffed reindeer antlers sometime in the past few hours. How had I missed that? A burp rumbled up out of me. The silly ones all sniggered as I was helped out into the cold.
“I don’t like the cold,” I informed Marcus as he buckled me into the passenger seat.
“I know, babe.” He patted my cheek and kissed it.
