by Mia Fox
As I waited in my car at the field, I found myself both excited and nervous at the prospect of seeing him again. The chances were slim; who was I fooling? Just because he showed up on Tuesday at 4 p.m. doesn’t mean he would be here at the same time on Thursday. And even if he did show up, there was the matter of what I would tell him about why I was here. It wasn’t like I could tell him that ever since he ran his hand over my leg I’ve been having hot fantasies and decided in a drunken state that it would be a good idea to blab those thoughts all over the internet.
Thankfully, he was not the target demographic of the site and probably wouldn’t have seen the post. Then again, even if he did see it, he would never know that I was the one to have written it. And just as I was having this lengthy conversation in my own head, I heard his voice. “Are you waiting for a field hockey lesson or one in scaling fences?”
I turned to find he had parked his car in the next spot, making my car seem even worse than I already knew it to be. When I looked up, he approached and leaned over my open window. I had previously noticed his eyes, but now my attention was diverted to his arms, strong and lean, the type that would feel amazing if wrapped around me.
“So which is it?” he teased.
“I don’t normally do either, but since you’ve offered…a lesson sounds good. Hockey, that is. I’ve still got that cut from the scaling fences attempt.”
“Lucky for you I’ve got an extra stick.”
I got out of my car feeling giddy and followed him to the field. “Actually, I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Oh yeah? I have that affect on people.”
I quickly caught his eye to see if he was serious and fell into the category of being a total tool or even worse, a player. But relief filled me when I saw his eyes sparkling, letting me know that he was playing with me, but definitely not a player.
He handed me a stick and kept chatting easily. “And here I was getting worried that you were going to sue me for medical malpractice before my career even got off the ground.”
Wow, I was in trouble. He was as witty as he was handsome, a dangerous combination considering that I believed women fell for men when their brains found the guy as attractive as their eyes did…and don’t even let me start with what happens when the heart follows soon after.
“So how’s it healing?” he gestured to my leg and let his eyes follow, taking his time to take in the length of them.
I couldn’t help myself. I felt my cheeks blush. “It’s doing fine, thank you.”
“So if you weren’t here looking for me, then…,” he let the question hang in the air.
“I’m a blogger and I’m working on a sports series.”
“Ahh, so you were looking for me. I knew it.”
I smiled at his confidence and repeated attempt at the joke. “I guess that’s not entirely false. My last interview…the day you helped me…didn’t turn out very well. You see, the website is for women and I write about insights into different…”
My mind was wandering. What could I say? I write about men and the way they think so women can get the upper hand? I don’t think so.
Or, I could say I write about men and what they’re thinking after you mistakenly fall into bed on the first date? Certainly not.
Think think think. “I’m putting together a series on what it’s like to do something you’ve never done before. So…I picked field hockey.”
There. It wasn’t a total lie. I did sort of pick his sport…or rather him.
“So, could I shadow you for a bit?” Why was my heart beating so erratically? I could barely breathe, let alone form a sentence without licking my lips and swallowing nervously.
“You mean like a stalker? Kinda the way you showed up today?”
I was so not calm. My mouth dropped open at his comment and I could feel the color drain from my face.
“Kidding. I didn’t mean it.”
I shook my head. “You have to stop that. I’m going to get a serious complex.”
“But it’s adorable.”
Once again, he had me dead in my tracks. It was my turn to stop. I told myself to get a grip. It’s not like he really meant I was adorable. It’s just a phrase and I could use this as material for my next post. This is exactly the type of interaction that women read too much into. He’s just making conversation. Flirting even. But it doesn’t mean what women want it to mean. It doesn’t mean that he wants to date me and only me. Wake up and be a psychologist, for heaven’s sake. I shook myself out of my internal thoughts long enough to formulate a simple sentence.
“So you wouldn’t mind helping me out?”
“You’re beautiful. I obviously wouldn’t mind if you wanted to follow me around.”
This was going to be hard if he kept this up. He said he wasn’t a player, but he had all the signs of being one. “Well, thank you. You’re not bad to look at yourself.”
“So you’re attracted to me?”
I couldn’t help but laugh aloud at that one. “I didn’t say that. I just meant that you possess a certain biological aesthetic that most women would consider attractive.”
He nodded as if trying to get a read on me. “Ahh, you’re a biologist and a writer?”
“I studied psychology.”
“That explains it.” He handed me a stick and when I put my hand on it, he slid his over mine.
Come on heart, don’t pound your way out of my chest, I silently begged. “Explains what?”
“Why you prefer to be a reporter and ask the questions. Revealing truths about your own mind is too difficult. But, you’ll get over that…you actually want me to get to know you. I think you want to tell me something about yourself.”
“I didn’t say that.” How was it possible that in just two conversations he was already getting inside my head?
“You didn’t have to. You ready to get started?”
I didn’t know if he meant about revealing more of myself to him or the hockey until he came around behind me to demonstrate the proper grip for the stick and even then, his intention was unclear.
His body blocked the cool wind. It felt good to have him stand so close. He adjusted his grip on my hand, guiding me on how to hold the hockey stick for maximum effect. It made my mind wander. I could feel the hardness of his chest and abs against my back, his arms wrapped around my waist. I wanted to turn around and face him.
His voice whispered in my ear. “Maybe I should know your name?”
“Katharine…Kat”
“Kat…I’m Cole.”
My heart did a back flip and I had to bite my lower lip to keep a ridiculous smile from forming on my face.
Chapter Eight
He passed the ball to me, his stick making it smack with a loud crack, and miraculously I stopped it and passed it back the way he had shown me. Thankfully, I didn’t suck.
“You want to try some footwork drills?” he yelled from across the field and then jogged over to me easily. If I had jogged across the length of the field I probably would be breathing even heavier than I was in his presence.
The idea of footwork drills had me a tad nervous, but I focused on his instructions. “You’re going to run forward and take the ball off me, then sidestep with it, turn and hit toward the goal.”
“Sure I am.”
“Just try it. I can tell you’re a natural.”
The first time I tried the maneuver I actually landed it. I got the ball, turned and whacked it toward the goal.
I heard him say my name. I couldn’t quite make out what else he said from where I was standing with the cold wind blowing, but I heard my name. I think he said something about the way I hit, but it didn’t matter. It was the way he said it…letting my name roll off his tongue slowly, holding the “a” and emphasizing the “t,” as if testing it. As if he was seeing what it would be like to say it under more personal circumstances. Or maybe that’s only what I wanted to hear. All I knew was I liked it.
It made the idea of this assignm
ent more palatable. Hearing him say my first name rather than something like miss or even worse, ma’am. I’d gotten used to both of those from the bagging clerks at the market. The cocky ones would say miss as if they were trying to flatter me and the clueless ones called me ma’am as if not knowing that’s a word best reserved for people’s grandmothers. But to hear a young guy call me by my first name…it was more intimate and it made me think of what it would be like to hear him say it while we were being intimate.
And that thought only made me think of Rachel’s instructions. I couldn’t get them out of my mind. Both because it was so shockingly horrible…being paid to get this guy to take me to bed…and, there was something that wasn’t so horrible at all about the idea.
The pull from both sides of my brain was enough to make me dizzy as I suddenly tripped over my own feet. So much for my beginner’s luck with the footwork drill.
“Careful.” In a flash, he had his hand on my elbow, his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me up as if I might fall again. “When the turf is dry it can just grab your shoe and trip you up.” He hadn’t yet let go of me and I didn’t move a muscle indicating that he should. Instead, I stared back at those brown eyes again, now noticing how impossibly long his lashes were, his straight nose and those lips that looked so soft. He also smelled so good and he must have noticed me staring at his mouth because he started to lower his head, and then, he stopped. Just stopped.
He righted me onto my feet and took a step backwards, averting his eyes and then offering up a weak apology. “Sorry. I was out of line.”
I didn’t reply that every inch of me wanted that kiss and I have no idea what just happened. I couldn’t beg for the kiss, but I couldn’t let it slide either. Instead, I just replied in a voice that was cooler than it should be. “For what?”
“I met you yesterday. Actually, I didn’t know your name until half an hour ago. I shouldn't have tried to kiss you.”
Once again, I found myself looking into those eyes. Maybe it was the fact that my job was on the line, but frankly that’s not what I was thinking when I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him toward me. I’m never this bold. I’ve never been the one to take the lead, but I knew he wouldn’t. It’s not like I wanted to live out any Mrs. Robinson fantasies and be the aggressor with a much younger man, but I couldn’t let this moment pass because it might never happen again.
When I pulled him toward me I couldn’t quite get enough air in my lungs and my nerves were threatening to take over. Please don’t let him be horrified. I hoped I hadn’t misinterpreted his body language. Most of all, I prayed he wouldn’t turn me away.
Our faces were mere inches from each other and I let my eyes find his. I knew that mine had desire in them and thankfully, the way he looked at me told me he felt the same. I lowered my gaze, bit my lower lip in anticipation of what might happen and took a deep breath to try and calm my pounding heart, but it only beat more wildly. In spite of being young, the confidence he portrayed earlier extended to his romantic moves as he placed a hand under my chin and led me to his waiting lips. His kiss was so sweet and gentle, I felt like I was floating.
We didn’t break the connection. Instead, his hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me in even closer as his other hand trailed a line slowly up my spine until it buried into my long hair and gave a little tug as our kiss intensified.
What started as a sweet kiss ended up leaving me breathless. Not only hadn’t I been kissed like that in ages, I hadn’t wanted someone to do that. After the experience of my ex-husband and the abandonment, I never wanted to let myself get close again, but now I found myself not wanting to pull away.
But this was insane for so many reasons. He was still virtually a stranger. And he was young. How young I wasn’t sure, but finding out the answer was both a necessity and a truth I wished I could avoid. Yet, that was the point to all of this.
We pulled apart from each other, but our foreheads bent forward touching lightly, not wanting the contact to fully end. “That…that was unexpected,” he told me.
My body was pulsating from his kiss and my mind was screaming at me that I was a pervert. “Unexpected bad or unexpected good?”
“It was something I wouldn’t mind experiencing again,” he said with total calm.
Myself, however, couldn’t think straight. “Maybe we can set up a schedule?” blurted out of my mouth.
He laughed. “A schedule? For kissing?”
“No! For hockey. I assume you’re a student here?”
“Well no, I just use the college’s field. I’m on the national team and we’re spread out around the country. So, I try to get in practice time each day even when we’re apart.”
“Wow, that’s impressive…doing all that and school.” I was still trying to get a handle on him. The nagging question wouldn’t leave my psyche. “So, you attend a different college?” I asked hoping that the answer was yes. Please let the answer be yes, but before he even responded, somehow I knew.
“Again, no. I’ll be here next semester. I’m 18, in case you were wondering.”
“Um, I have to go.” I should have just gotten into my car and driven away, but like a crazy person my thoughts ran from my mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time?”
“Looking forward to it…Kat.”
I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road, glancing in the rearview mirror to get one more glimpse of what was sure to be heartache. At the time, I just didn’t know whose.
Chapter Nine
I arrived home hoping to find an empty house where I could be left alone with my thoughts — the good ones, the confused ones, the ones that said no job is worth this, and of course, the ones that told me this was so worth it. Instead, I found Megan’s latest overnight guest in my bathroom, trying on one of my scarves…and nothing else.”
“What the hell, dude? Put on some clothes!”
“I saw this,” he shrugged, indicating my cashmere scarf. “It’s really soft. Have you ever thought of using it as a restraint? Do you mind if I borrow…”
“No, you may not!” I grabbed the scarf and turned on my heel. “And get out of my room,” I yelled as I left the house, jumped back in my car and decided one more night at Luci’s was in order.
“Oh Luci, he’s so gross. Why do I have to be exposed to him?”
“A better question might be why does he insist on exposing himself to you?” she quipped. “I’m telling you, when it comes to men our age, there are some slim pick-in’s out there. How’s your hockey man?”
“My man…” I emphasized the word. “He is all man, except…he’s in high school! Rachel can’t expect me to still go through with it.”
Luci raised her eyebrows with a knowing expression. “I think the fact that he’s in high school is going to solidify her decision. It makes it even more salacious.”
“It makes it more wrong.”
“Does it?” For some unfathomable reason, Luci shrugged, as if to say ‘c’est la vie’. “What’s his body like?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Fit. Strong. Hard.”
Luci pursed her lips and made a slight ‘pop’ noise with her mouth. Her own way of saying ‘bingo!’ “And the men you know who are in their 40s? What are their bodies like?”
“Soft with beer guts.”
“Yeah, that sounds so much more appealing. Come on, Kat. Let me live vicariously through you. Why don’t you just pursue the lessons and see where it takes you. Maybe he doesn’t want to jump you.”
I’ve never been very good at hiding my expressions or emotions. It didn’t take but a second for my friend to notice that a heated blush had spread across my cheeks.
“He tried something with you! You’re not telling me everything so spill it!”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Then why the guilty expression? The thought police aren’t hovering nearby and if you don’t tell me I will figure it out.”
I hesitated for a second, t
hen took a deep breath and blurted it out. “He almost kissed me, but then stopped.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I literally grabbed him and pulled him towards me.”
“Wow you are totally embracing that aggressive older woman stereotype. Good job.”
I cringed. “That is so not what I want to be.” I stood up and paced around her living room, the thought of being the aggressor wasn’t in my nature. Then again, a year without any romance wasn’t good for me either. Maybe I was due for a change both in my love life and the way I approached it.
As if reading my thoughts, Luci chimed in. “It could be fun…taking charge and all.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to be a teacher. I still want to be pursued. I haven’t had a lover take control…and take me. I’ve never…,” my voice drifted off thinking of the love I craved. “Ahh Luci, what am I doing?”
I sat down again and flipped open my laptop, hoping for a distraction and a reprieve from the conversation. Instead, the stat counter notifications from my blog came up and the numbers were unbelievable. The rise in click-throughs continued and with them, comments on my post from readers across the globe. I had never had such response to a post. It was as intoxicating as the experience of kissing Cole.
Looking over my shoulder, Luci pointed out some undeniable facts. “That, my friend, is another viral post. Trust me, with the right inspiration you’ll keep writing like that and the readers will keep coming. You know what that means?”
I looked up, waiting for her take on the situation.
“It means you’ll save your job and you’ll be able to move out.”
I smiled. “No more undesirable overnight guests.”
Luci smiled back. “No, but you might find a more suitable one.”
Chapter Ten