Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three

by Ting, Melanie

  Arthur was one of my favourite people at work. He went everywhere since he coordinated promotions between the radio, television, and print areas. Frankly, I suspected his job was a cover to pick up gossip from every corner of C2C Sports. But I always enjoyed talking to him because he was hilarious and opinionated.

  “Kelly, have you seen this?” He barged in front of me and pulled up a website on my computer. It had photos from the NHL Awards.

  Shee-it. There was a photo of Jimmy and me together on the red carpet. We were holding hands. He was smiling, but I looked as nervous as I had felt. Although with all that makeup and the new dress, I appeared sophisticated and terrified.

  “What about it?” I hedged.

  “It looks exactly like you! And you were in Toronto then too.”

  “I went for a family reunion,” I said, sticking to my cover story. Meeting some of Jimmy’s hockey family counted.

  Michael Hauser was walking by and added his two cents. “That doesn’t look anything like Kelly. Well, maybe a little, but that chick is way prettier. And look at her tits.”

  We all peered at the screen where my boobs, thanks to engineering help, were way more prominent than usual.

  “That chick’s at least a D-cup. Kelly’s a B, tops,” Mike continued, not content with insulting only me. “You gay guys never notice the details that real men would. Anyway, what would an NHL superstar be doing with our receptionist?”

  Now I was torn. Part of me wanted to protest that it was me in the photo—so there. But I didn’t want to deal with the fallout once word got out that I was dating James Frechette. Brian Ford, as well as every other producer in the place, would be leaning on me for interviews and inside scoops. And everyone else would be weighing in on my love life. They already had too many opinions on my relationship with Phil.

  Mike drifted away, but Arthur was still darting looks between the computer screen and my face, like some C.S.I. scanning device.

  “Lots of people have doppelgängers,” I commented. “Especially half-Asians.”

  He sniffed. “Contraire to what that lunkhead may think, gay men are renowned for their observational skills. I do know that a little makeup can make some very significant changes, as well as a good push-up bra.” Then, thankfully, he left.

  * * *

  I saw Phil the next night. He had to work late—as usual—but we met at his place for dinner. Phil grilled salmon and asparagus on their balcony BBQ. I was grateful not to have to pay my share of yet another meal out.

  “Everything smells delicious,” I told him. Phil was wearing a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his nice forearms showing. However, what I really found attractive was the fact that he was cooking.

  “How come you’re such a good cook?” I wondered.

  “Survival. I like to eat well, and I don’t have tons of cash. How come you’re not? What did you eat at university?”

  “Yogurt and cereal. And Montreal has lots of cheap restaurants.” Learning to cook had never been my priority, but now I felt guilty. “Can I help?”

  “Sure, if you could make a salad, that would be great.”

  I went to the kitchen where Dave was standing by the kitchen counter and eating some leftovers from a container, while looking in the fridge.

  “Damn, PD didn’t buy me any frozen perogies when he went shopping. I’m complaining.”

  “Excuse me? Phil works ten hour days and has to buy your groceries too?”

  Dave’s eyes narrowed. “I work hard too. It’s just the way we split the household chores.”

  “What do you do?” Dave didn’t strike me as the Happy Homemaker.

  “I’m the organizational genius.”

  “So—in other words—you tell everyone else what to do. Nice.” I pulled out some spinach and apples from the fridge and started on the salad.

  “Hmmm, what are you guys having? It looks good.”

  Phil walked in carrying a platter with the fish and veggies. “We’re having dinner for two. Only two.”

  Dave bitched a little, but eventually left. We took our plates out on the balcony to enjoy the summer evening.

  “Everything is delicious,” I told him.

  Phil smiled at me, but I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he wasn’t talking too much.

  “We can skip the after-dinner walk if you want,” I told him. We had talked about going along False Creek and finding some gelato.

  “Yeah, maybe. We could watch a movie on my laptop.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Did you want popcorn too?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty full. Thank you though.” Suddenly, I realized that this was the ideal date that I had described to April. It wasn’t surprising that she was trying to help Phil.

  Since Dave and Elliott were home, we went to Phil’s bedroom. He had minimal furniture. We sat on the bed, leaning against the black iron frame, with pillows behind and his laptop in front. For some reason, it wasn’t a sexy situation though.

  Phil had been pretty well-behaved throughout the dating game. He was publicly affectionate, but never pushed me privately. I moved a little closer, and he put his arm around me. The movie was a foreign film about a man’s life after the tsunami in Thailand. Phil’s trip had inspired an interest in the countries he had visited.

  However, being this close to Phil and in his bedroom was giving me ideas. He was very attractive and the warmth of his body through his shirt was bringing back some sweaty memories.

  I was worried that what happened with Jimmy had softened the way I felt about him. So, what if I fooled around with Phil a little? That would make things right and equal. Not to mention being an awesome pleasure for me. Actually, I could keep making mistakes with one and then making it up to the other. This kind of logic underlined why sex was a problem for me.

  I put my hand on Phil’s thigh. He jerked his head around, then smiled and leaned over to kiss me. He tilted his head and as his lips touched mine, I felt a little thrill coursing through my body. Phil’s kisses were bliss—his mouth warm and soft, and the pressure perfect.

  I put one hand on the back of his neck and moved the other up his jeans towards his cock. I wasn’t really sure how far we would go, but everything was feeling great. We were kissing and touching when Phil stopped. He put his laptop on the bedside table.

  “What’s going on here, Kel?”

  “Duh, we’re making out.”

  “Why are we making out?”

  “Because it feels good, Philly. Now let’s stop talking.” I tried to kiss him again, but he put out a restraining hand.

  “Does this mean that you’ll be doing the same thing with Frechette on the weekend?”

  “No.” Shit. Why couldn’t guys just shut up and do what I wanted them to do?

  “And that would be because…?”

  I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to. Phil was going to get this in five seconds.

  5, 4, 3, 2—

  “No, don’t tell me.” Phil was all snarky and sarcastic. “Let me guess—four days alone with him in Toronto, and you couldn’t control yourself. The asshole didn’t even win the Calder, but he sure got the consolation prize.”

  “I didn’t have sex with him,” I said miserably.

  Phil scowled at me. “You know, Kelly, this was all your idea. You wanted to ‘get to know each other’ and not have sex so you could make up your mind. It’s been over a month now, so what’s it going to be?”

  I shook my head. “I actually haven’t spent that much time with either of you.” I had only seen Jimmy for three weekends, and Phil worked a lot of hours. I got to see him at hockey and maybe one or two other nights a week. It wasn’t really enough time to settle anything in my mind.

  “I don’t know yet. I really like being with you, Phil.” Honestly, I was more confused than when I started.

  “But maybe you wanted to do a little comparison shopping? To see how I stack up in the sack.” Phil’s vo
ice was dangerously calm. In one smooth movement, he pulled me down onto the bed next to him.

  He kissed me, and this time his mouth was hot, wet, and passionate. He moved down and kissed this special spot at the base of my neck that made me moan aloud. He raised himself up and ran an expert hand down the side of me—not even touching any erogenous zones—and lit me up like a neon sign.

  “Oh God.” I tried to pull him onto me, but he shook his head.

  “There’s no way you’ve forgotten how hot things can be between us. I know a lot more than I did back in high school, and I can’t wait to show you. But I’m playing by your rules, so I’m not making love to you again—until it’s for keeps.”

  Then he abruptly let me go and got off the bed. He put on his shoes and looked down at me—still lying on the bed and breathing hard.

  “Let’s go. I’m taking you home now.” He turned and left the room.

  I got straightened out and ran after him. “Phil, wait.”

  We were in the parking garage before I finally grabbed his arm. “I’m really sorry. I know I shouldn’t have—”

  Phil interrupted me. “You know what? I prefer those ground rules where we don’t waste one second talking about the asshole. All I have to say is that if you make the wrong decision—it’s your own fault. You need to have a little self-control and not let your body rule your mind.”

  I should have been angry, but I knew he was exactly right.

  22

  Compare and Contrast

  On my 22nd birthday, I walked into the office to find a huge arrangement of exotic flowers on the reception desk. I pulled out the card and looked at it.

  Happy Birthday, Kelly. See you tonight.

  Love, JF

  “Who’s JF?” Arthur asked from behind the bouquet.

  “You read my card already?”

  “Of course I did, the envelope was not sealed, this bouquet is gigantic, and it came from Thomas Hobbs, which is the most expensive florist in town. That means something huge and romantic. Are you going to tell me, or do I have to start guessing?”

  “Please no, not in front of everyone.” This place was worse than high school. The combination of flowers and Arthur’s loud voice had attracted people to the lobby. Full-scale eavesdropping was in progress. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Arthur gave me a disbelieving look but went back to work. I toted the flowers over to the boardroom so I could actually see anyone who arrived. The arrangement was so heavy that I was going to have to take a cab home.

  Just before noon, Phil walked in. He was wearing his on-site work clothes, which were casual and dusty. He flashed me his cocky grin, and I smiled back. He had never ever forgotten my birthday. When he called to book a dinner with me, I had to regretfully decline since Jimmy had put this on our schedule back in May.

  “Can we go for lunch?” he asked. “It is a special day.”

  “Okay,” I smiled at him, “but not a long one, I’ve got stuff to get done today.” I knew he didn’t have much time either. Phil had been working a lot of hours, and he looked a little tired.

  “Here,” Phil pulled a posy of purple pansies and lime green nicotiana from behind his back. They had a pale purple ribbon and tissue around them.

  “Awww, pansies are my favourite flower,” I told him. “How did you know that?”

  “I double-checked with your dad when I ordered them.”

  Arthur breezed into the lobby. He seemed to have a sixth sense for any drama going on.

  “Hellooo! I’m Kelly’s friend, Arthur Kim.” He held out a hand.

  As they shook, I introduced them. “Arthur, this is Phil.”

  “Oh, Phil. Your fiancé who wasn’t really a fiancé? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” If he inspected Phil any harder, he’d be doing a body cavity search.

  I buzzed Annalise, who covered my lunches, and then excused myself to put the flowers in water. Arthur followed me.

  “Is there no privacy? Are you coming in the ladies room too?”

  “Of course not, that would be the last thing my image here needs.”

  As a florist’s daughter, I put the posy in water right away with a dash of Sprite stolen from Mindy’s desk. Although Dad should have included a packet of preservative. When I came out, Arthur was still waiting. Did he not have work to do?

  “Hmmm,” said Arthur. “The flowers aren’t as spectacular, but Phil is extremely hunky. If I was JF, I’d be worried. But perhaps JF has other qualities you find attractive.”

  “Do you not have work to do?” I asked.

  “Is it James Franco?”

  “What? Get real. Look, I’m going to lunch now and we can dish later. Sometime next year would work for me.”

  Arthur leaned in and whispered, “Why don’t you pull that doppelgänger story on me again? I think if I searched your closet, I’d find the exact yellow dress of the gorgeous girl that James Frechette took to the NHL Awards. And a matching push-up bra.”

  “No comment,” I said and walked away.

  “I knew it,” he hissed after me. “And someone’s social life seems to be picking up, big time!”

  When I got back to the lobby, I plunked the flowers on my desk. Once we were out of the building, Phil took my hand and led me down the sunny street to the Japadog street cart. The usual line-up was mercifully short. We both ordered Terimayo dogs and drinks, then walked to a little cement parkette near the waterfront.

  “Never let it be said that I don’t know how to treat my special girl,” he remarked as we sat down on a bench and started eating. I was glad that he wasn’t being all jealous and resentful about dinner. Phil’s mood swings were extreme lately, but I had blamed them on myself. Today seemed to be a good day.

  “Are you kidding? I love Japadogs!” I took a big bite of its teriyaki, nori, mayo, and sausagey goodness.

  “Of course, they’re just like you. The best of Japanese and Canadian culture.” Phil laughed. “Oh, that reminds me.” He put down his hot dog and reached into his pocket. He handed me a little cloth pouch, which opened up to reveal a cord with a carved charm on it.

  “I got this for you in Japan. It’s called an omamori, a charm for protection and good luck.”

  How embarrassing was it that Phil knew more Japanese than I did? I picked up the charm. It was antique looking: a metallic bean with a little carved animal and Japanese lettering on it. Very beautiful, with a nice worn look to it, as if it had been loved and handed down with affection.

  “It’s cool. It does feel spiritual or something.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s older. It was that or Hello Kitty.”

  I tied the cord around my neck. “What does it say?”

  Phil shrugged. “I don’t read Japanese.”

  Really? I highly doubted that he would buy something he didn’t know the meaning of.

  “Thanks so much, Phil.” I leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he smiled. We started eating again, and he told me about being in Japan. I had never been there, and even my dad had only gone once. Phil had had some funny lost-in-translation experiences there.

  “They’re always telling you what actor or celebrity you look like. In Tokyo, I had people ask me if I wanted to work as a model.” Phil laughed dismissively. “They say that to any tall Westerner.”

  “You could be a model,” I told him. Phil was tall enough, slim, and handsome, with great cheekbones. Even in the twenty minutes we were sitting here, more than a few women had checked him out.

  He snorted in reply. Then he looked at me closely.

  “You’ve got a little sauce,” he motioned to my upper lip. I reached up with my serviette, but he shook his head. He moved closer, put a hand under my chin, and tilted my face towards him. He stuck his tongue out and licked my lip, then kissed me. His mouth was warm and insistent. I kissed him back, feeling a growing breathlessness. When he finally stopped, I collapsed against the bench.

  I started stammering, “Uh, well gee, I think I better get back to—”<
br />
  “Work?” suggested Phil, grinning.

  “Yes. Work.” I swallowed hard.

  * * *

  Jimmy flew directly from Chicago to Vancouver, just for my birthday dinner. After I cabbed it home, I put the flowers down on the coffee table and started to get ready. A quick shower, a little extra makeup, and I got dressed. I knew it would be a fancy dinner, so I put on the nice black halter dress I bought for Phil’s family party. I tried to do my hair up smoothly as Magenta had, but had to settle for a messy twist. Unfortunately, my roommate/personal stylist was out. The dress looked a little bare, and I was trying to remember what accessories April had made me wear before when Jimmy knocked on the door.

  “Come on in,” I called.

  He found me in my room and pulled me into his arms. “It’s been a long day. Seeing you is the highlight.” He bent his head down and kissed me. His kiss was hot and demanding. My whole body was gravitating towards his—with the physical memory of the feel of his mouth on my breasts, my belly, and between my legs.

  Finally, I broke away. “I’m almost ready.”

  “I see you got my flowers.”

  “Yes, thank you so much. They’re really lovely.”

  He sat down on my bed and watched me get organized. I was looking for the little evening bag that April had gotten for me in Chinatown, after I horrified her by bringing a big hobo bag to some evening event.

  “You look beautiful tonight.” He looked pretty slick himself in a dark grey suit with a white shirt and a lavender tie.

  “Thank you. I’m getting better, but accessories are still beyond me.” I tried on a gold bracelet, but it didn't seem quite right.

  “Well, maybe I can help you out there,” Jimmy offered. It was true that he had better taste than me, but rooting through my jewellery box would be a little too gay-best-friend. Then he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a slim aqua-coloured box. “Happy birthday, Kelly.”

  I undid the white ribbon and the box read Tiffany’s. Yikes. I panicked since I wasn’t really the fancy jewellery type. Cautiously, I opened the box and saw a beautiful silver key with crystals all over it, with a long silver chain attached. It was gorgeous in a low-key way, and I really liked it.