Eager to hang out with her new-found friend, she quickly changed out of her dress suit. She stared at her suitcase, wondering what would be appropriate to wear. The pictures of Mac’s online showed what appeared to be a fairly laid-back sports bar, not unlike the one her Aunt owned; so she decided on a pair of skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and black ballet flats. Once that issue was solved, she redid her makeup -- just in case there were any attractive men there -- placed her work clothes in a dry cleaning bag, and set it outside her door to be picked up.
She ate a small dinner at the hotel cafe then took off down the street, following the directions on her cell phone. She had considered calling a cab, but it turned out that the bar they were meeting at was close by and the weather was pleasant. After sitting at a desk for most of the day, she longed to stretch her legs, so she plugged in her headphones and started off down the sidewalk. She looked around as she walked, taking in the tall buildings with their clean lines and the people hurrying here and there around her.
As much as she might long for the familiar streets of her home, she thought that she shouldn’t give up on her job so easily. It was only the first day after all -- things were bound to get better. Most jobs had learning curves, after all. Eventually Lance would get used to her presence, and if he didn’t, maybe Daryl could find a new position for her . . . or she could go to Human Resources for that. Daryl had more important things to do with his time, like filling the team roster.
Finally her phone beeped at her: “Destination is on your right.”
Sure enough, there was the short brick facade that Tori had seen online when she had looked the building up earlier. She unplugged her headphones and tucked them along with her phone into her purse.
Tori waited patiently while the bouncer checked her identification, and then entered through the heavy wooden doors. She was surprised at how small it was inside; cramped and crowded with a mix of hipsters, office professionals, and everything in between. They chatted amongst themselves, so absorbed in their conversations that they ignored the various sports playing on the flat-screens scattered around the room. And other than the occasional guy watching her out of the corner of his eye, everyone remained oblivious to her existence. Sighing, Tori scanned the room for spiky blonde hair but Steph was nowhere to be found, and she didn’t see anyone else from the office.
She hovered in the doorway, debating about what she should do. Maybe she had been stood up -- considering how Jen didn’t seem to like her, it was entirely possible that she was the reason why neither woman had show up when Steph said they would. But then Steph didn’t seem like the sort of person who would do that. Maybe they were just running late, or maybe she had gotten the address wrong . . . She glanced at her cell phone, wondering if maybe she should try to call them -- but then she quickly remembered that she had forgotten to get Steph’s phone number before she left work.
“Hey, are you just going to stand there and take up the doorway?” Someone asked, startling her.
“Sorry.” Tori apologized and stepped to the side, allowing the three men behind her to enter the room. They were all attractive, dressed in jeans and t-shirts that showed off their fit physiques. The first two ignored her, laughing about something, but the third glanced down at her as he passed.
Growing up, Tori had always assumed that she was the palest person she knew. If it hadn’t been for the freckles decorating her cheeks and shoulders, she might not have any complexion at all. However, this man was nearly as pale as she was -- possibly even paler. He was also strikingly handsome, with short dark hair, almond shaped brown eyes, and a heavy five o’clock shadow. He paused, as if he was going to say something to her, but one of his friends called out to him. Sighing heavily, he continued on after them, offering her an apologetic smile before he disappeared into the crowd.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and take up the entrance?” The bouncer repeated, glaring at her. “This is an exit; we can’t have it blocked. Fire marshal would be all over my ass!”
“Right. Sorry, I’m just trying to find my friends.” Tori apologized. “I think they’re running late.”
“It happens. Just make up your mind if you want to be in or out.”
“Yeah, sorry.” She decided to wait for them by the bar, and started to push through the bodies packed in front of it. After a few minutes of milling around she finally managed to find an empty bar stool that happened to be under a flat-screen showing a replay of an old Maple Leafs game. She quickly slid onto it before anyone else could.
“What’ll you have?” A bartender asked as he walked by.
“Blue moon.” Tori said as she flashed her identification at him.
He nodded. “You got it.”
Tori glanced over her shoulder at the door. There was still no sign of Steph or Jen, but she remained hopeful that they would be here any moment. She just hoped they would be able to find her in this crowd.
The bartender returned with the beer and Tori settled in to wait.
Chapter 4
An hour passed -- and Steph had still not made an appearance.
Tori sipped at her beer as she studied the hockey game. It was becoming more and more clear to her that she had been stood up. And, while a part of her still did not want to believe that it was intentional, another part of her subconscious chewed away at her self esteem. Of course those girls didn’t want to hang out with her. She wasn’t cool enough, didn’t dress properly, and had only gotten the job with the Pioneers because the General Manager was her father’s friend. Steph and Jen probably hated her guts.
She picked at the label on the beer bottle in front of her, as her thoughts continued down their dark road. Slowly, she became aware of the fact that someone was watching her. Why someone would be doing so, however, was beyond her. The hot guy she had seen earlier clearly cared more for his friends than he cared to talk to her, so it probably wasn’t him, and there hadn’t been any other men who seemed even remotely interested in her since then.
Tori couldn’t blame them. The crowd had shifted over time; as the hour had grown later, the office professionals had left, leaving behind a mix of hipsters, men and women wearing sports jerseys, and women who had decided to meet at Mac’s before going clubbing. Or, at least that’s what Tori assumed their intentions were; their dresses were short, revealing far more skin than she would ever be comfortable with, and they had done their makeup in bold colors. Any man who might be watching her instead of them was clearly off his rocker - or needed a pair of glasses.
But despite her low opinions of herself, the feeling of eyes on her continued, making her skin prickle with goose flesh.
Still determined to ignore it, she pulled out her cell phone again. She scrolled through her contact list, longing to hear a friendly voice, and considered who she could call. It was useless, though; her family was thousands of miles away and it was past midnight there. They were probably asleep already, and while Daryl had told her she could call him about anything, the prospect of having him join her for drinks made her skin crawl. For the first time since arriving she realized just how alone she was in Portland.
Sighing, she returned her phone back to her purse and tucked it between her legs where no one could steal it. She turned her attention back to the flat-screen above her and continued to nurse the beer before her. She would wait for the game to finish and then head back to her hotel, where she would crawl into bed and probably cry herself to sleep from homesickness.
Someone pulled out the stool next to her and sat down, his knee bumping against hers. Whoever it was cleared his throat, but Tori continued to stare at the flat-screen, hopeful that if she ignored him he would eventually leave her alone. He did not. Instead he bent down low next to her ear so she could hear what he had to say over the racket of the crowd and the old jukebox playing in the corner. “What can I get you?”
The thick Russian accent caught her by surprise. Forgetting her decision to ignore him, she turned to find the man who had b
umped into her earlier now sitting beside her. He was big -- taller than she was by at least a foot -- and well muscled to boot; his biceps were almost as large as her head, and they strained the sleeves of his shirt. The corners of his brown eyes wrinkled as he gave her a friendly smile that made her stomach flip flop.
She quickly glanced away. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
He didn’t take the hint; instead he lingered until the bartender came by and asked what they wanted. “A Stella and a . . .” He reached out and turned the beer bottle in front of her so he could read what was left of the label. Tori had to clench her hands into fists to keep from smacking him away; this was not one of her brothers that she could boss around. Instead she settled for glaring at him, but it had no effect. He merely chuckled and continued to place the order. “. . . Blue Moon for her.”
“I said I was good.”
“Really? Your bottle is empty.”
“Maybe I didn’t want another drink.”
“I would hate to waste good beer, but if you would prefer something else--”
“Can you not take a hint?” Tori groaned in frustration. After a horrible day at her new job and being stood up by people she hoped she would be friends with, having the hot guy she was so entranced with being such a pill now was just the icing on the cake.
“No.” He tapped his forehead. “Too many hits to the head.”
“Okay . . . well, let me spell it out for you then -- I’d really rather be alone right now.”
However, he still wouldn’t leave. She studied him, debating what to do next; she could complain to the bouncer that he wouldn’t leave her alone . . . but this guy and his friends would probably break that man in two.
“I can see that.”
“Then why are you still bothering me?”
“I have noticed that most people who say they want to be alone, they usually do not want to be alone.” He took a drink of the beer the bartender had left for him. “And you look sad. I do not like it when beautiful women are sad.”
“Oh. I’m fine.” She stammered. She didn’t know if she should be offended or flattered. Either he cared and was truly interested, or he was just taking pity on her. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, as it might crush whatever little was left of her self esteem.
As if he sensed that her resolve was wavering, he held out his hand. “I am Alexei.”
“Tori.” She shook his hand, noticing how they dwarfed and could crush hers, yet his grip was surprisingly gentle.
“Tori. That is much better than Fine.”
“Um . . . What?”
“You said earlier that you were Fine . . .” His voice died off and he shook his head. “Sorry, that was bad, was it not?”
“Oh, there’s worse out there.”
“Like?”
“Did heaven just lose an angel? Or are you a magnet because I’m drawn to you.”
“Bah.” He made a face, his eyebrows and nose wrinkling in distaste. She laughed at his expression. In return, he smiled back at her, revealing a chipped tooth.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier -- I’m not used to guys buying me drinks, and it’s been a crappy day.”
“Pitiful. A pretty thing like you should have a line of men offering to buy you drinks.”
“Thanks.” She blushed and looked away. It was nice to know that someone found her attractive; it had been at least a year and a half, maybe two years, since someone had looked at her the way Alexei was doing right now. And that person had been more interested in her gift with hockey than he’d actually been interested in her, as a person. “Well, having five brothers tends to scare guys away.”
Alexei looked around them, “They are not here, are they?”
She laughed again. “No, you’re safe.”
“Good, good.”
“I should warn you, though,” She nodded at the TV. “That has my undivided attention until the game ends.”
“Even during commercials?”
“Yes.”
“But it is a replay from five years ago.”
Play had resumed on the screen so she held up a finger, silencing him. He made a frustrated sound. One part of her still hoped that he would give up and leave her in peace, but a small part of her was pleased that he stuck around.
Chapter 5
“You are hockey fan?” Alexei asked when, nearly ten minutes later, the game cut away to an advertisement.
“Yep, all my life.” Tori smiled at him.
“Who do you root for?”
“The Maple Leafs.”
“Not Pioneers?”
She eyed him, wondering if she should admit that she worked from them. Though, after today, who knew how long that would last. Instead she just settled for shaking her head. “They’re so new I doubt they have many fans yet.”
He nodded. “And how are the Maple Leafs doing this off-season?”
“Not so great; we lost a couple of veterans over the summer. They were free agents who decided to sign elsewhere. I have faith the others will pick up the slack though.” The game resumed and on the screen a small figure broke away from the scuffle in front of the net with the puck. Even though it was a replay and she already knew the outcome Tori leaned forward as if she could urge the player on somehow by doing so. However, when his shot went wide, she groaned in frustration and took a sip of the beer Alexei had bought her. “I wonder if Chzov will break out of his slump this year.”
He smirked at her. “Why? Are you sweet on him?”
She coughed, choking on her drink. “Oh God no!”
“It is nothing to be ashamed of . . . I have heard lots of girls get crushes on hockey players.”
“I’m well familiar with that.” She had lost count of the times she heard her brothers whispering about that puck bunny or this one. Or the nasty whispers she heard in the bathrooms when she went to the games to watch her cousins play. Chzov was cute, but . . . she made a disgusted sound. “He’s the same age as my little brother!”
He laughed at that, and then waited patiently as the seconds ticked down and the game went to intermission. Once the commentators appeared on the screen and started discussing the previous period, she turned to face him. “So, obviously you are not from around here . . . what brings you to Portland?”
“Work.” He nodded at a nearby flatscreen where a commercial for a popular wrestling show was playing. “I am a wrestler, like them.”
“Oh.” Tori studied him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. She had a friend in high school who was obsessed with wrestlers, and had written fanfiction about them ‘pinning’ her. Alexei certainly was big enough to be a wrestler, and Tori wondered what it would be like to be ‘pinned’ by him. All the guys she had been with were skinny like she was . . . She blushed and quickly looked away.
“You do not believe me?”
“Forgive me for being skeptical, but back home guys will claim to be hockey players in order to pick up on girls, so I’m sure claiming to be a wrestler is the American equivalent.”
“I would think that Americans say they are football players or baseball players or something instead.”
He had her there. She shrugged. “I haven’t been here long enough to know.”
“Is it working?” His tone was nonchalant, but Tori could sense the sincerity flowing underneath.
“Maybe.” She repeated, smiling into her beer. “Are you with that federation event?” She had seen the trucks being unloaded outside of the stadium when she left work earlier.
He shrugged and avoided her eyes. “Sure. Do you watch then?”
“No, but my brother did.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a secretary, supposedly.”
“Supposedly?”
“It’s a long story. What’s it like to be a wrestler?” Tori asked, changing the subject.
“Painful, exhausting.” He jerked his head at the TV. “How did you get into hockey? Did you play?”
“
I wasn’t allowed to, but my brothers did.”
“Is one of them on the ice?”
“No -- I just really like hockey.”
“Ah.”
“You don’t seem to believe me.”
“I have never met a girl who liked sports.”
“There’s always a first for everything.”
“Yes . . . yes there is.” Alexei dragged his stool closer to her -- close enough so that his leg pressed against hers and the smell of his cologne wrapped around her. “Why don’t you tell me the rules of the game?”
Tori studied his face, wondering if he was honestly asking or if he was testing her. However his expression was inscrutable. She stalled. “It’ll take too long to explain . . .”
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