by Sarina Bowen
“But you can? Your exceptional ego can handle it?”
He grins. “Most of the time.”
“I don’t know if I buy it,” I confess. Still, it’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.
Jason’s smile doesn’t dim. I’ve never met anyone like him. My other boyfriends always wanted me to agree with them. Jason seems just as happy when I argue. Now he reaches out and pulls me onto his chest. He smooths my hair back with one hand and lets out a contented sigh.
I never expected him to be cuddly, damn it. It’s nice. I like it a little too much.
“My ego didn’t like one thing, though,” he says. “What’s this bullshit you were spinning earlier about spending the night in Bayer’s bed?”
“Ah.” I’d meant for him to get the wrong idea, and I guess it worked. “It’s true that I was going to sleep there. But Bayer wouldn’t have been in the bed. He can’t climb up the loft stairs, so he’s sleeping on his sofa. I should text him and see if he needs anything.”
I sit up to look around for my phone.
“Not yet. Don’t go.” Jason pulls me right back down again. It’s gentle, but still bossy.
“You just manhandled me,” I complain from a comfortable spot on his pec. My fingers find his happy trail, and I trace it softly.
“We’re still naked, so I’m still in charge,” he says, stroking a hand down my shoulder. “Now tell me about the rest of your week.”
“Oh, it was just the usual. Working at the rink. Looking for cheap apartments and grocery shopping for hockey players. Oh! Listen—I had an idea for Silas’s birthday next month.”
“Time to hire the strippers!” His perfect abs bounce with a chuckle.
“No!” I argue. “My idea is so much better.”
“I’m only kidding. When it’s someone’s birthday, we usually go out for a ridiculously pricey dinner and make a rookie pay. But what’s your idea?”
“Well, my plan is still pricey. I saw that Delilah Spark is playing Madison Square Garden the night before his birthday. And the team should be flying back from Seattle that morning.”
Jason cackles. “You think we should buy him a ticket to her show?”
“No, we should buy a bunch of tickets. Let’s get a block of them—maybe even VIP access. It would be a hoot.”
“Holy shit! If Silas met Delilah Spark he’d wet himself.”
“It would be a really cool gift. It’s not often when you can give a grown man something that would make him so happy.”
“That is true.” Jason puts his lips against my cheekbone and gives me a slow kiss. “You made me happier tonight then I’ve been in a long time.”
My heart gives a stunned little flutter. “I don’t know what to say about that.”
“Just say you’re happy, too.”
“I am happy,” I say slowly. “But what happened to Mr. One Time Only? I don’t know what to think.”
“You don’t trust me,” he says.
“Would you?”
“Well, I’m pretty great. You just need more convincing. Now, how do we get these concert tickets? Won’t it be sold out?”
“There’s a price for everything.”
“Ah. And I’m sure I’ll be paying it. Do I actually have to go to this concert? Her music is not my taste.”
“Someone has to go. And why not you?”
“Let’s make a deal,” he says.
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll go to the Delilah Spark concert and sit in the front row. I’ll give her a standing ovation after every song. But only if you’ll be my date.”
“But…” Did he even do the math? “It’s a month away.”
“I heard you the first time. You and I are going to be a thing.”
“A thing? What’s that?”
“It’s whatever we want it to be. It’s our thing.”
“And our thing lasts a month?”
“At least.” He shrugs maddeningly. “A month from now I’ll still want you in my bed. Isn’t this nice?”
It is, damn it. But I don’t know if I can have an ill-defined relationship with Jason Castro. “I didn’t agree to date you yet.”
“You will.” He says this like it’s not infuriating. “Hey—did you get those cookies I asked for on my shopping list?”
“No,” I say immediately, and I’m not even a little sorry.
“Why, because they’re not healthy?”
“No, because I was mad at you.”
He laughs. “You weren’t mad at me a few minutes ago when you were having your second orgasm.”
“Don’t rub it in,” I warn him. “Unless you’re, um, rubbing it in.” I feel a happy spasm just thinking about it. Even though he’s confusing, I’m ridiculously attracted to him. I don’t think I can walk away from him. Not just yet.
“So you’re saying I deserve those cookies?”
“I suppose,” I grumble. “The best I can do is ice cream. I hid a quart in the back of your freezer. I bought it for myself.”
“Heidi,” he whispers. “Will you share your ice cream with me? Fantastic sex makes me hungry. And then will you share my bed, so I can hold you all night long?”
“Okay,” I say, caving in immediately. And I have a feeling this might become a trend. “But I also need to check on Bayer.”
“We’ll get Silas to do it,” Jason says. “I don’t want to share you tonight. I’ll text him right now.”
He gets out of bed, and I admire his shapely backside as he jumps into a pair of sweatpants.
I don’t want to share you tonight. Such a bossy sentence!
It makes me tingle, damn it.
We’re sitting at the kitchen table eating Chunky Monkey out of the container when Silas eventually comes home. He takes one look at us and smirks. “I see how it is.”
“Don’t judge,” I say with a sigh. Jason and I are dressed in hockey T-shirts yanked from his drawer and we both have sex hair.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He drops his jacket over a chair. “So this is how it’s going to be?”
“We’re having a thing,” Jason says, digging his spoon into the ice cream.
“A thing?” Silas asks. “Is that, like, a relationship? I thought you were over those.”
“So did I.” Jason shrugs. “Did you get my text?”
“Sure did. Just came from Bayer’s place. I brought him a glass of water and tucked him in, so you’re off the hook.”
“Thank you.” I feel guilty, though. “How is he?”
“Fine, but…” Silas shakes his head. “He keeps saying the R word.”
I’m stumped. “Relapse? Revenge?”
“Retirement,” Silas and Jason say at the same time. And I swear both of them shudder. “That’s horrible, man,” Jason says.
“Yeah.” Silas clears his throat, and the mood is as somber as if someone died. “Early pre-game skate tomorrow.”
“I’ll set an alarm,” Jason promises.
Silas gives us a wave and heads off to bed.
“You have to work tomorrow?” Jason asks.
“Sure do. At the stadium, too.”
“What’s your new job this week?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” I promise. “You won’t be able to miss me.”
23
Jason
The next morning, I feel…reflective. I guess that’s the right word. It’s not that I regret asking Heidi to trust me. Our “thing,” as I insisted on calling it, is something I want.
But as I shower after the morning skate, I wonder if my rusty heart still knows what to do. Let’s face it—the last time I started dating anyone I was sixteen years old. I didn’t have to shave every day, and I thought a trip through the drive-thru at McDonalds was a fun night out on the town.
Heidi deserves only the best. I just wonder if that’s really me.
On the way home, I stop at the florist’s. Flowers never go out of style, right? “What should I bring home for my new girlfriend?” I ask th
e tattooed woman behind the counter.
“Honey,” she growls. “This is New York City. I have seventy-six different flowers in that cooler, from all over the world. Columbia. California. Ecuador. The Netherlands. Even Thailand. You gotta give me some guidance.” She opens a binder on the countertop that’s filled with photos of arrangements. She flips to a tab labeled Clueless Boyfriends & Husbands. “Here. This is your section.”
“Wow. You got us all figured out?”
“You’ve got no idea. Prices range from forty bucks to three hundred and fifty. And if you need to narrow down the occasion, I can guide you.”
“Guide me, then.” I point at an overflowing bouquet of pink flowers. “That’s nice, right?”
“Yeah, but those orchids say I’m sorry I forgot our six-month anniversary.”
“Oh.” When did flowers get so complicated? “What does this one say?” I point to another bouquet in red.
“That’s for when you canceled a dinner date because you had to work late.”
“Well, I’m looking for the bouquet that says we had a fun time together. That’s all. I want her to know I’m thinking happy thoughts about her.”
“Ah. You’re not up to page three yet. You’re still on page one.” She turns back a page.
“How many pages are there?”
“Thirteen.”
“What’s on page thirteen?”
Her glance is filled with disdain. “You don’t want to know. Listen up, Mr. Page One—we have some nice Peruvian lilies that just arrived. They look smashing with yellow roses.”
“Sold,” I say, slapping my credit card down on the counter.
“Okay. I’m on it.” She moves over to the cooler and opens the door. “How big a bouquet are we talking about, here?”
“Impressive,” I say. “But not obscene.”
She turns to me slowly. “Can I give you a word of advice?”
“Okay?” I’m not sure I have a choice, anyway.
“I’ll make you up a medium-sized bouquet, and she’s going to love it. But save the impressive bouquet for another time.”
“Why? Not enough roses in there?”
She shakes her head. “It’s easy to celebrate new relationships. You haven’t fucked it up yet. But someday you’re gonna come through my door again and say, ‘I need some flowers because I’m an imperfect human and started a fight about nothing.’”
“Yeah, okay,” I agree just to move things along.
“You don’t believe me,” she sniffs, pulling some pretty orange lilies out of the cooler and laying them gently onto a work surface. “But the rough times always come.”
“Yeah, thanks.” As if I need help remembering that.
Fifteen minutes later I walk into my apartment building carrying a very pretty bouquet. “For me?” Miguel asks. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Who’s a smartass?” I ask him, and he laughs.
“Nice choice for Heidi,” he says.
“How do you know they’re for her?” I ask as he presses the elevator button for me.
“Cause I got eyes. Have a good game tonight.”
“Thanks, man,” I say as the elevator door closes on his smirk.
I open my apartment door, hoping Heidi is already home. Striding into the living room, I find that she is. Unfortunately, half my hockey team is there, too, taking up all the sofa seats and sprawling on the floor.
To a man they all swivel their heads to watch me enter the room carrying a bouquet of flowers.
Heidi is seated at the front of the room, her computer on her lap. She looks up quickly, her eyes widening as she takes in the flowers and my startled expression.
As I watch, her cheeks pink up, and her mouth parts. And—boom—every hesitation I had this morning is gone. There’s just her intelligent eyes and that pencil behind her ear. She’s busy taking over the world, and I’m the lucky guy who gets to be here to watch.
“Hi,” I say into the silence.
“Hi.” Her blush deepens. “You’re late.”
“For…?” I’m a little confused right now.
“The meeting!” Bayer says, his bad leg propped on my coffee table. “Somebody doesn’t read his texts.”
“Whoops,” I say cheerfully. Then I cross the room, set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and lean in for a kiss. Our lips meet in a quiet snick, but there’s nothing quiet about the way I feel. I’m filled with a rush of optimism and gratitude as I help myself to a quick taste of her perfect lips before forcing myself to stand up again. “Carry on, then. Anybody want a water?”
When I turn around, I’m met with a row of astonished faces. Nobody raises his hand.
Whatever. I head into the kitchen to help myself. Someone joins me a couple seconds later. It’s Leo Trevi.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself. What’s this meeting about?”
“Silas’s birthday surprise. Georgia is going to be pumped when I tell her we’re going to a Delilah Spark concert.”
“Heidi found the tickets already?”
“She’s called, like, six ticket brokers, asking them to compete on price.”
I laugh because my girl is hilarious.
“So?” Trevi says. “You and Heidi? I didn’t see that coming.”
“Apparently you and I are the only ones.” I reach into the fridge for an apple that I didn’t have to shop for.
“That’s big, man. Her dad is going to lose his shit, though. Didn’t he threaten you at the fundraiser?”
I just shrug. “He hated the idea of his little girl in a trashy blog post. But that won’t happen again. Besides, he’s not the coach. He’s not the team owner or the GM. What’s he actually gonna do to me?”
Leo grins. “I don’t know, but maybe we need a secret panic phrase. If you think your life is in danger, text the secret phrase to my phone.”
“What phrase should we use?” I ask, humoring him.
“Butt pimple,” Leo suggests. Then he laughs.
“Somehow I don’t see myself needing a rescue. But thanks, man.” I fill up a glass and hand it to Leo. Then I get one for myself.
“Checks are fine,” Heidi says as we reenter the living room. “Or you can use the Belle Pepper Pay Portal.”
“Awesome,” O’Doul says, rising. “I’m in, but I gotta get back to my place now. It’s nap time.”
“Class dismissed,” Heidi says. “Watch for my invoice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Leo says. “Hey—when do we get to tell Silas? I need a video of his face when he hears.”
“Not yet!” Heidi says. “I want the whole plan nailed down before he hears about it.”
“Can I just pay and not go to the concert?” Bayer asks, planting his crutches on the floor and rising carefully.
“No way, man,” I argue. “If I’m going, you’re going.”
“It’s like a suicide pact for our ears,” Bayer complains.
“Nah, I like Delilah Spark’s music,” Leo says. “So does Georgia.”
“Whipped,” someone mumbles.
My teammates file out of my place with the usual amount of bickering and smack talk. And when the door finally shuts on them, I have Heidi all to myself. At least I think I do. “Where’s Silas, anyway?”
“Getting a massage,” she says, snapping her computer shut. “He’s in goal tonight.”
“Awesome.” The moment she stands up, I cross the room and pull her into my arms. “That means we’re home alone.”
Her arms wrap around me, and it feels fantastic. I’ve gone years without regular affection, and I’d forgotten how this feels. “It’s nap time,” Heidi says, laying her head against my shoulder.
“Then let’s nap. Naked,” I suggest.
She gives me a squeeze. Then she lets go and steps back. “No can do. You need your rest.”
“We’ll rest,” I argue. “Between rounds.”
Heidi shakes her head. “There will be no sharpening of your pencil before this game. Talk to me aft
er you beat Tampa.”
“Wait, really?” I step closer to her and kiss her smooth forehead. “So if we lose, I’m cut off? What if it isn’t my fault?”
She takes my face in her hands and smiles. “How about this—if you score, then you score. I hate Tampa. Always have. They’re the smuggest expansion team.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Okay, sure. But if I obliterate Tampa, what do I win?”
“You’ll just have to find out.” She yawns.
“Hey.” I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself, so I hug her again. “You need an actual nap.”
“Don’t you? We didn’t sleep much last night.”
It’s true. “If I keep my hands to myself, would you lie down with me?”
“Can you be good?” She tips her face toward mine.
We’re nose to nose. Heidi feels just right in my arms. “I think so,” I confess. “It won’t be easy. Let’s try.”
She takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom. Heidi takes off her jeans, but replaces them with a pair of my Bruisers shorts. We lie down together in the bed, and I’m aware of the unique silence as she settles into my arms.
This is new. It’s been a while since I held someone without removing all her clothes. I still like it, though. I like it a lot.
And then it’s almost like Heidi reads my mind. “How come you never told me that your high school girlfriend died?”
Oh, fuck. “It’s not the kind of thing you just bring up. It was a car accident. I wasn’t there.” That last thing is my confession, but Heidi probably won’t catch on to that. But it’s true. I wasn’t there when she needed me. And now she’s gone.
“That’s so sad,” she says. “How old was she?”
“Eighteen. We’d known each other forever. You know how I have all of Romeo & Juliet memorized?”
“Yeah. You’re kind of famous for that.”
“She was Juliet. I was Romeo. Ninth-grade play.”
“Oh God!”
“See? I don’t talk about it because there’s no making sense of that.”
Heidi doesn’t try to. She just tucks her body a little more tightly to mine and holds my hand.
While I drift off to sleep, she’s breathing slowly beside me. I feel more peaceful than I have in a long time.