by April Fire
“It’s already off,” she promised. “Here, look.”
I inspected the small device for a second and, seeing no obvious activity, I patted the bench next to me. By the time she wrote this story, I either would have gone or I wouldn’t, so having the world find out about it wouldn’t matter. Besides, I needed someone to talk to this about, somebody outside the game.
“I’ve been offered a position,” I began, talking slowly. It was the first time I’d spoken these words out loud to anyone since I’d first heard them a couple of days before. They’d been zooming around my head at such a speed, however, that I almost felt practiced reciting them.
“Where?”
“Philadelphia.”
“Not with the-“ she raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, with the Soars,” I finished her sentence for her. Even saying that out loud, it didn’t feel real. She stared at me for a moment.
“And you’re thinking about it?” She sounded incredulous.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“How?” Emily’s mouth dropped open after she spoke, the word hanging the air between us.
“I’m just…not ready to go yet,” I looked at my feet, mumbling, feeling the way I did when I told my Mom that I wouldn’t be attending college. “I’ve still got so much to do here.”
“That you couldn’t do with the Soars?” She pointed out. “Come on, if any of the guys in that locker room got offered this, what do you think they would do?”
“I think they’d take it,” I admitted. “But they’re not me, are they?”
“No, but I bet some of them wish they were,” she snapped, getting to her feet.
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” I looked after her as she rolled her shoulders back.
“Nothing,” she replied, her voice steady and suddenly cool. “Maybe we should sit down tomorrow, have a proper conversation about this.”
“I’m fine, I don’t need you to-“
“For the article,” she cut across me, smiling slightly at the fact that I’d forgotten. I nodded, feeling chided.
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed, glancing down. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
“See you then,” she began to walk away, and I looked up after her. Why did it feel as though I’d just let her down? I thought things were cool between us after what had happened last night- but it felt as though I’d just firmly put my foot in whatever was still lingering between us.
Chapter Seven
I arrived back at my apartment, and immediately grabbed the handful of takeout menus sitting in the kitchen drawer. I was still feeling the hangover, and all sitting that freezing cold stadium had made me want was a nice, hot pizza and my bed. As soon as I was through the door, I wriggled out of my shirt and bra and pulled on an enormous t-shirt. There, that was better.
I grabbed my phone and ordered my usual- a large Hawaiian with a Sprite. I had to hold myself back from ordering it with half-pepperoni, like Joel always had it- I felt a short stab of pain when I hung up, and wondered how long this would last.
That said, my encounter last night had made things a lot more…palatable, I could swear to that much. Yeah, it had been a bad idea and I kind of wish that I had at least thought it through beforehand- but hey, most of the truly fun things in life were terrible ideas anyway. He was good, and he’d been at least nice enough to drive me home afterwards and act like an adult about it the next day. I could handle a few knowing looks from his teammates if it meant that we could still talk like grown-ups.
I lay back in bed and let out a sigh, reaching down under the covers to kick off my pants. I found my mind drifting to the conversation I’d had with Sam earlier that day. I felt a heavy sense of dread over it, mainly because I knew that I had found the story around which to build my article- there was no doubt that a guy like him, a small-town boy with the chance to get out for good, was a decent hook to hang the piece around. But it meant, of course, that I’d have to spend a whole lot of time with him in the coming weeks. Nice one, Emily, way to fuck the main subject of your article.
My pizza arrived, and I went ravenously to town, having been to wobbly to eat earlier in the day. I grabbed my laptop and stuck on a few episodes of whatever dumb sitcom I could find streaming, desperate to pull my mind off the situation for a while. But if I was nothing else, I was an overthinker- and soon I found myself going back to everything Sam had told me today.
I could see from the look in his eyes that this opportunity terrified him. Hell, I could see why- it would be scary to anybody. But the difference was that most people- well, most people that I knew, anyway- would suck up the fear and do it anyway. Hell, I had. The Soars were one of the biggest teams in the country- how they’d come to hear about a player in a smalltown team like the Kingstown Crows was beyond me, but they had, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that happened every day. Sam needed to jump on the opportunity, and soon.
I cleared out my bed, sticking the leftover pizza in the refrigerator before curling back up in bed and looking through all the notes I’d made over the last couple of days. Was there another angle I could approach this story at? I knew it would be hard getting any of them to talk- Johnson obviously didn’t intend for me to know, and I wasn’t sure any of the rest of the team knew anything that was going on. That just left Sam- and Sam himself seemed scared even just talking about the proposition, as if even considering it too deeply might force him to make a decision. Grabbing my Dictaphone, I began to go through some of my recordings and transcribing them.
As I listened and typed, I began to feel a creeping sense of recognition. Sam’s story- it was the same as mine, in a way. He had this opportunity halfway across the country and it was down to him to take it or not; no-one would know (or would have known, barring my article) if he said no, and if he said yes, well, great celebration as he took this brave next step. It wa strange to me, considering the idea that someone might be handed an opportunity like this and think twice. Maybe I could find some way to relate to him based on what I’d been through? I needed to find a happy medium between getting him close and not scaring him off because he thought I was trying to pursue something more serious.
I grabbed my phone, and weighed it in my hand for a second or two; Johnson had given me his number. He’d been a great help with the story, but I had the feeling he didn’t want me to know about this. I wondered how he felt about Sam’s offer- did he want the best for him, or did he want him to stay and drag the Crows out of the lower leagues and towards something more concrete? He hadn’t mentioned it to me, which made me think he was leaning towards the former. I dialled his number before I had the chance to back out, and held the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” He answered after a ring or two, sounding confused.
“Hey, it’s Emily,” I greeted him. “I was wondering if you had Sam’s number?”
“Uh, yeah,” He rustled around, sounding distracted. Then, he seemed to register what I’d said.
“Why?”
“I want to meet up with him outside training,” I replied, and he paused for a moment; I knew what he was thinking, that I’d already done a lot more than meet with him. But I wanted to get this story rolling while he was still open with me, while he was still vulnerable. Yes, it was harsh, but I needed it now.
“Sure thing,” he replied, and reeled me off his number. I typed it into my phone, thanked him, and hung up; okay, time to make this happen. I called the number Johnson gave me, and the phone rang for almost thirty full seconds before Sam picked up; I was on the brink of abandoning the call before I heard his voice, distant and echoey, down the line.
“Um, hello?”
“It’s Emily,” I jumped straight in. “What are you up to right now?”
“I’m at some family thing,” he replied with a sigh. I felt a twinge of sadness when I remembered how far away my own parents were- then thankfulness when I recalled what they’d have had to say about my current state.
“Oh, sorry to disturb you-“ I prepared to hang
up, but he spoke again.
“If you’re offering me a way out, I’ll take it,” he promised, turning away from the clatter and chat in the background of the call.
“Then I guess I am,” I leaned back on the bed and grinned. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Anywhere but the bar?” He suggested.
“Your call,” I responded, already reaching for my clothes.
“There’s a coffee place not far from yours, it’s open late-see you there in half an hour?”
“Sure thing,” I agreed, pulling on my pants and getting to my feet.
“See you soon.”
He hung up, and I scrambled to grab my Dictaphone. Now I just had to figure out how to get him to see my side of the story- and get the best possible hook for my article in return.
Chapter Eight
As I made my way across down, I flexed my fingers against the wheel and let out a small sigh of relief. Jesus, thank God I was out of there.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family. It was just that sometimes I found it quite hard to like them. I know everybody feels the same way once in a while, but with my parents, it was getting harder and harder to keep the happy face on for prolonged periods of time.
As soon as I was through the door, Mom had been on my back about how training was going, where the team was playing next, and whether or not I’d gotten the pay rise she had insisted I ask for since last time we saw each other. I knew it came from a good place, but none of this had been relevant before I started hitting the big time; in fact, I could still remember the looks of their faces when I told them that I wasn’t going to go to college.
“And how long will you be dedicating to this…hockey stuff?” Dad furrowed his brow, taking Mom’s hand comfortingly. He hadn’t been to see one of my games at that point, and it would be another year and a half before he turned out to the stadium to watch me play.
“As long as it takes,” I shrugged. “I know it seems crazy, but-“
“Think of everything you could be doing with your life!” Mom exclaimed, cutting me off- she had always been the more emotional of the two of them. “You could be…God, you could be travelling the world. Getting a good job. Meeting a nice girl…”
“I can still do all of those things,” I reminded her gently. “I just want to try out this hockey stuff first. See how far I can go.”
“And what kind of prospects would you have for your career if you stayed there? At the Ravens?” Dad pressed, leaning forward.
“The Crows,” I corrected him. “I don’t know, but I want to give it a try. Coach says I’m good enough to make a career out of it, if I want to, so-“
“And what would he know?” Mom snapped. “He’s been at that place for years and he hasn’t exactly made anything of himself.”
“We’re doing better than we have done in a long time!” I protested. “Please, I’m not asking for money, or-“
“You best not be,” Dad shot back sharply. “Because we’re not paying for you when all of this goes up in smoke. You going to get another job to support yourself while you’re at it?”
“I won’t have time,” I shook my head. “But I won’t need one-“
“They’re barely paying you enough to live under our roof, let alone one of your own,” Mom replied tersely. “You can’t stay here forever, Sam.”
“I don’t want to!” I narrowed my eyes without thinking, my back already up at their comments. Mom raised her brows at me, and I knew I’d overstepped the mark.
“Well, then, maybe you should go,” She nodded to the door. “If you’re so certain you can make it with all this hockey stuff.”
“I’m not certain,” I admitted. “But I want to try.”
“Fine,” Dad held his hands up. “But don’t come crawling to us when this doesn’t work out for you, you hear?”
I moved out later that week, on to the couch of one of my teammates- it would be a few months before I could afford a bed of my own. Things cooled down after a while, but even now, my parents didn’t seem to regard my hockey as anything other than a hobby that had vastly overstayed it’s welcome. And yet, I knew they loved having a son who was so well-known about town- and that was what annoyed me the most. They wanted me as a trophy and nothing more, and I had to admit, it was getting harder and harder to pretend like I didn’t notice.
I made my excuses and left right after I got the phone call from Emily; it wasn’t exactly a vastly preferable alternative, but it would do for now. After a few minutes, I drew up to a halt outside the coffee shop, and spotted Emily nursing a coffee through the window. She glanced up, and when she laid eyes on me, offered me a small wave.
I made my way inside, picked up a drink, and joined her at the table.
“Hey,” she smiled up at me as I sat down, and then apparently took in my expression and frowned. “You okay?”
“Just family stuff,” I shrugged. “You know.”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied, not taking her eyes off of me. “What are your family like?”
I glanced around for her voice recorder, and couldn’t see it. That was a relief- I wanted to be able to talk without worrying that every word out of her mouth had a double-meaning attached to it.
“Ugh,” I grunted. “Irritating. You know? They spent so long criticising me for wanting to play sports for a living and then as soon as I started getting noticed suddenly they can’t wait to show me off.”
“Do they know about the offer?” She cocked her head to the side, and I could see her analysing me. I felt a little shiver of annoyance-it felt like everyone I spoke to these days had an ulterior motive to conversation with me, had something they wanted, and it was starting to get on my nerves.
“No,” I shook my head. “Just you and Johnson.”
“What do you think they’d tell you to do if they did?” She prompted me.
“I think they’d push me to take it,” I shrugged, wrapping my hands around my drink to warm them against the cold of the evening outside. “Which is why I don’t want to talk to them about it.”
“So you’re leaning towards not going?” She asked gently, and my head snapped up. It felt as though my hackles had raised all of a sudden, and I didn’t like it- I wasn’t used to feeling out of control, but I could feel the mist of discontentment descending as I looked at her.
“I’m not leaning towards anything,” I shot back. “Except making my own fucking decision for once in a while.”
She held her hands back and leaned back, as though putting space between us was the only way she could feel safe. I felt instantly embarrassed by my sharpness; she didn’t deserve this. We barely knew each other, and she was just here to try and get her story.
“Sorry,” She replied, her tone defensive. We stared at each other across the table, and a moment of loaded silence lurked between us for a second.
“I just…I don’t want people telling me what to do, or thinking less of me for the decisions I make,” I tried to keep my voice steady but I knew that the words were tumbling out of me without restraint.
“I wasn’t trying to push you either way,” She lowered her voice, glancing around as a few people glanced over in our direction to see what the commotion was about. “I was just asking, for the article.”
“Oh, so this is all going in?” I threw my hands in the air. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here to talk to you about this.”
“It won’t go in if you don’t want it to,” she promised. “This could just be some background research, it’s cool.”
She paused for a moment, staring at me, examining me closely as though she was looking for something else, something new.
“What is it?” I demanded. Her eyes seemed to be penetrating me, deeper than I felt comfortable with.
“You came out here to talk to me about this?” She wondered aloud. I shrugged, then nodded.
“I guess,” I mumbled. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I supposed she was right; I had needed to come out and blow off s
ome steam after the bullshit of spending an evening with my family. It wasn’t like I could call up one of my teammates or whatever; they’d be out drinking and partying, and the last thing they wanted was me dropping a massive downer over their good time.
“Is there…no-one else you can talk to about this?” She asked gently, cocking her head at me.
I frowned at once; she was onto me, and I hated that. I needed something to throw her off the scent, needed some way to distract her…and then I found my eyes drifting down to her mouth. God, it had felt good on me the night before. She flushed slightly, and I knew she could tell what I was thinking. I smirked at her, and she smirked right back- fuck, were we really doing this? Less than I day after we agreed that it wouldn’t happen again?
Before I could stop myself, I leaned across the table, slipped my hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her. I was glad the place was almost empty- less gossip to go around, less people to bare witness to what was about to happen. I pulled back, and she met my gaze, her breath coming quicker than before. Mine was too. I let my eyes trail down her body, and flashed back to the sight of it writhing on top of me. Jesus, I needed this girl- needed her bad, needed her right that second.
“My place is just around the corner,” she suggested, and we got shot a look of deep and barely restrained disapproval from an old man sitting opposite us. We exchanged a look, and she giggled, sounding giddy.
“Let’s go,” I held my hand out to her, the awkwardness of the conversation forgotten at once as I felt the heat that had been between us the night before growing once again. She slid her hand into mine, and we left the coffee shop, our drinks abandoned, and our bodies pressed as tightly together as was appropriate to be seen in public.
Chapter Nine
As soon as we were through the door, our clothes were coming off; I knew he was just trying to divert my attention from the seriousness of the discussion we’d been having, but I couldn’t resist him. I assumed that our attraction existed only after a few drinks, but it turned out that it sprang to life whenever we were alone together.