Page 79 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know you did anatomical drawings. I didn’t realize you were that precise. For some reason, I thought you were just into... actually, I don’t know what I thought, but that’s cool. Can I see the heart piece, as well?”

“Maybe another time,” I say quickly. “We should mingle and see what else is out there. There must be much better artists than me here tonight.”

I grab her hand, and she looks at me in surprise.

“What? Can I not hold your hand?”

“I mean, you can. But I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because then I might think this is a date.”

“Is it not?” I ask her softly.

“Is it?” she asks, and her eyes flutter for a second. “Because you don’t have to say it is if it isn’t.”

“I mean, we’ve already done the deed. This is a date if you are willing,” I say. “And just because we’ve done the deed doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again. And it doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know you better, even though you know me in all the ways.”

“I don’t know you in all the ways. I mean, I know you in some ways.” I wink at her. “And I love those ways. But I don’t know you in all the ways, nor all the ways that matter.”

“Oh, Mr. Kane, I do think you’re trying to get to my heart,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes and moving her head back and forth. “I do declare that if you continue charming me so, I may quite fall for you.”

I stare at her and wonder if she’s joking. She bursts out laughing.

“Oh my gosh, your face! If you could see your face right now.”

“What about my face?”

“You look nervous as heck?—”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You sure about that?” she says, giggling. “You do know that I don’t think that just because we slept together it means anything.”

“Well, it doesn’t mean nothing,” I say.

“Then what does it mean?”

“I think we both know that neither one of us really knows,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say. I like being with her. I enjoy spending time with her. She’s beautiful and fun, and she makes me feel light and happy. But I don’t want to commit myself to something else without fully understanding who I am and where I’m going.

I’d done that once in my life before, and I’d held resentment toward my sister and my mom—and I’d let it out. I know I hurt their feelings. I know Muriel told my mom and my other sister about our conversation based on how tense the last call had been. And I don’t want anyone else in my life feeling like I resent them or that I feel used, when I love them.

I loved them. And yet, because I hadn’t put myself first in so long, I’d harbored something that I hadn’t even realized was beneath the surface.

“Oh my gosh. Look at this piece,” Erica says, distracting me from my reverie.

She points at a painting. “It’s a seashell, and it looks realistic. I feel like I could touch it,” she says. “I feel like I could pick it up and put it against my ear and hear the ocean.” She smiles. “Man, if I could paint, I’d love to be able to paint something like that.”

“You can paint.”

“Not realistic images. They are hard.”

“Yeah, that’s true. So, you like going to the ocean, then?” I ask as she continues staring at the painting.

“I feel like I could touch each granule of sand and wade into the ocean.”

Her eyes are bright with happiness.