Chapter 7
When the nextafternoon rolls around, I am freaking the fuck out. Ralphie has given me approximately zero information on where he is taking me except that it’s casual, and I can ‘wear anything.’ Unhelpful brute. Doesn’t he know getting ready for a date, especially a first date, takes hours of preparation and thought?
Not that I have been on many recently. I’d hardly call what Chet and I did dating. He tended to call them ‘outings,’ which is one of the reasons I was surprised by his attempts to label our relationship.
After trying on everything in my closet, I debate sending Ralphie another text. He seems to value directness, but I also don’t want to come off as needy before whatever this is has a chance to blossom. Part of me thinks he pities me over what happened and is taking me out to make up for it. A larger, unacknowledged part hopes that isn’t what this is and that he wants to date me. I know better than to listen to that part, though. Girls like me don’t end up with sexy, hot-shot pro athletes.
“Whoa,” I hear from behind me as I primp in the mirror. “Did a Forever 21 explode in here?”
“I know,” I groan to Madison. “I have no idea what to wear on this date!”
“Where is he taking you?”
“He won’t tell me.”
“Where are you meeting him?”
“I’m not.”
“What do you mean?” she questions with a tilt of her head.
“He’s coming to pick me up,” I reply.
“Wow. I can’t remember the last time a first date picked me up. I can’t remember the last time my boyfriend picked me up.” Bitterness tinges her admission. Madison picks men about as well as I do. Something we have commiserated the few times we’ve found each other on the couch drowning our sorrows.
“Yeah, I thought it was strange, too. He’ll be here soon, and I have nothing to wear.”
“Hold that thought.” Madison leaves my room before returning a few minutes later with a blue off-the-shoulder dress. Thankfully, she is a similar height to me, so it isn’t too short.
“This is perfect,” I squeal as I pull her into a hug. Not the most physically affectionate person, she freezes for a moment before returning the gesture.
“Okay,” she says as she pulls away, “save the touchy-feely stuff for your date.”
“I’m not sure how touchy-feely it will be. I haven’t found any PDA pictures of him. Since he was adamant about going out this early, I don’t think he’ll want to risk it. He doesn’t exactly strike me as a hand holder anyway.”
“You never know. I’ll let you finish getting ready.”
Thanking her again, I touch up my hair and apply a shiny, pink gloss. I went for a natural makeup look, but it takes almost as many products to achieve as my glam looks do. At seven on the dot, I hear a loud knock as I tie the straps of my wedges.
Opening the door, I practically drool at the sight before me. Ralphie is dressed more casually than I’ve seen before in a white polo and navy shorts. I try not to fidget at the heat in his gaze as he takes me in.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hello, Zlatí?ko. You are a vision.”
“Thank you. Is this okay for what we’re doing?” I twirl around so he gets the full effect of my outfit.
“The dress is perfect, but you may want different shoes. We will be walking a decent amount.”
“I could walk miles in these,” I scoff. He eyes me skeptically.
“I’ll change into something more comfortable, though.” The slight lift to his lips makes the change of footwear worth it.
Now in Keds, I saunter out of my bedroom and join him back in the entry. “Better?”
He nods, opening the door for me to walk out in front of him. It’s easy to guess which car in the parking lot is his. It’s not that his luxury SUV is flashy, but it is way more expensive than anything else around despite its sensibility.
When we approach it, my hand lands on top of his on the handle. Shooting him a puzzled expression, I remove mine, allowing him to open the door. As he lets me get situated, he leans slightly into my space.
“When we’re out together, don’t expect to touch any doors.” I mull over his declaration as he walks around the car, I wonder where this man came from and how I can keep him here.
Throughout the ride,we make idle small talk, which is really me talking with the occasional interjection from him, usually in response to a direct question. Wherever he is taking me isn’t too far from my apartment because, after fifteen minutes, he is pulling into a parking lot in Santa Monica. Glancing around, I see people milling about on a blocked-off street.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing now?”
“You’ll see,” he replies with a smirk. When I reach for my door handle, he makes a disapproving grunt. I guess he plans to open it so I can get in and out. With a sigh, I wait for him to come around and take his help climbing down from his SUV. While I may pretend I find it silly and unnecessary, I’m swooning inside.
Ralphie leads us toward the cordoned-off area, and that’s when the sights and sounds hit me. It’s a street fair! Stalls are set up on either side of the road, where vendors sell goods and food. As we get closer, I can read the banner at the top: Santa Monica Crafts Fair.
“You brought me to a crafts fair?” I ask, a lump caught in my throat.
Cataloging my features, I see doubt creep into his expression. “Is that okay? If you don’t want to go, we can do something else. I figured you might be interested in this since you like to crochet.” The uncertainty in his voice, combined with his accent, melts me almost as much as the gesture.
I expected him to take me to dinner at a swanky restaurant or maybe to a publicity event. I didn’t expect him to plan a date that catered to my interests. Interests I don’t openly talk about to many people.
Placing my hand on his arm, I squeeze to reassure him as much as to ground myself. “It’s perfect.”
Ralphie gives me a self-satisfied nod before turning back to the fair. He allows the hand on his arm to slide down before he grabs it and interlocks our fingers. I guess I was wrong about him being the hand-holding type.
We walk silently, surveying everything before I am drawn into a stall called Handmade Jewelry by Tina. Looking at the delicate pieces, I smile at the owner.
“These are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she replies in kind. “Are you searching for anything particular?”
“We’re just browsing. I don’t know much about crystals,” I reply sheepishly.
“When is your birth month?”
“June.”
“That’s a good one. Moonstone,” she says as she searches around her stall.
“I thought my birthstone was a pearl?”
“It is. But your birth crystal is often recognized as a moonstone. It symbolizes new beginnings, good fortune, and inner peace.”
I glance over to see what Ralphie thinks of this. I doubt he buys into ‘hippie mumbo jumbo,’ as my dad would call it. But I see nothing but neutral expression reflected at me.
“Ah ha! This one,” Tina exclaims. In her hands, she has a short necklace made of tiny diamond-shaped whitish stones. When she fastens it behind my neck, it sits at the base. She holds up a mirror for me to see once it is secure.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous,” I mutter.
“It looks good on you,” Ralphie replies.
“How much—” The question halts on my tongue as I see Ralphie pass several bills to Tina.
“What are you doing?” I question.
“Buying the necklace,” he states matter-of-factly.
“I was going to pay for it.”
“And I did instead. The result is the same,” he retorts as if buying me jewelry on a first date is normal. It isn’t expensive, but it’s still jewelry. On a first date.
“Did you see anything else you wanted?”
“Why? Are you going to buy that, too?”
The expression he gives me says that, obviously, yes, he was.
“I’m good for now. I’m actually kind of hungry.”
Waving bye to Tina, we head to the section of the fair where most of the food trucks are set up. Surveying the offerings, I get lost in my head until my eyes meet Ralphie’s. He’s watching me as if I’m the most interesting thing here.
“Tacos?” I suggest.
Ralphie nods and leads us to the Mexican truck nearby. After placing our order and fielding a glare when I tried to pay for dinner, we grab our food and sit at a table. Eating my fish tacos as daintily as I can, I watch Ralphie scarf down his steak carnitas.
“You’re from the Czech Republic originally?” I ask as if I didn’t Google him at least four times already.
“Yes, I lived there until I was eighteen and then came to the US to play hockey.”
“Do you go home often?”
“No, my time spent there was not the best. I send money back to my mother and sisters but haven’t been back since I moved. Home is here now.”
“You aren’t close with your family?”
He shrugs. Needing to fill the silence, I tell him about my family and how my parents had me young. I detail how close my little brother and I are despite begging my parents to exchange him for a girl when they first brought him home from the hospital.
“He was drafted recently, right?”
“Yes! He was picked up by Seattle in the first round. I’m so proud of him. He has been working toward this goal forever. When all the other kids were drawing in the dirt during Little League, he was testing out bats to find out which one helped him hit the best. I’m surprised you remember that. He was drafted the night of your friend”s bachelor party. There was a lot going on.” I muse.
“Of course, I remember. You beamed every time you mentioned it.”
I blush at his assessment as I recall that night. I may have brought it up a couple times. In my defense, they’re professional athletes so they understand the unique pressure. I hope Rob find a group of teammates to support him the way they seem to.
“It’s nice you have such close friends here since your family is far away. I’ve lived here my entire life and don’t have a bond with anyone the way you all seem to.”
He snorts, but his face softens at my wistful tone. “We”re as close as a bunch of men who spend three-fourths of the year together can be. If you asked most of them, they would probably say they don’t know me that well.”
“Why is that?”
“Hockey has always been serious to me. It was a way out of poverty and into a new life. I don’t take it as lightly as many of the American players do, which can make me come off as a hard ass. My agent, Andre, would tell you it’s because I’m a grumpy asshole. Coming from a similar background to me, he understands my mindset.”
“I don’t think you’re an asshole. If anything, I would call you quiet but sweet. It’s okay to be serious; I should be more that way.”
“You are perfect the way you are,” he states firmly. “And I am only sweet to you. If you told the guys or Andre that I was sweet, I am not sure they would believe you.”
My cheeks heat at his compliment. There is something endearing about his words being both gruff and gentle. Embarrassed by my reaction, I quickly change the subject. “Do you miss anything from home?”
“I miss some of the food.”
“But we have tacos,” I tease, wiggling mine at him.
“You do have tacos,” he laughs with a gleam in his eyes.
“What food do you miss the most?”
“Do you want to see?”
“Like a picture?” He shakes his head.
“There is a truck over there that serves kolaches. They were my favorite as a child.”
“What is a kolache?”
“There are many kinds. It is delicious filling surrounded by pastry. Sweet ones are filled with fruit or cheese and savory with sausage. The savory ones are not as authentic but make for a great breakfast.”
As we saddle up to the truck, I notice several flavors that sound yummy. “What”s the best kind?”
“My favorite is apricot or cream cheese. It all depends on what fruit you like.”
I choose a blueberry and cream cheese mixture while Ralphie orders apricot.
“These are incredible,” I say over a mouthful.
“I’m glad you enjoy them. The truck owners opened a cafe near my house last month. I’m afraid the team nutritionist will have my head with how many I’ve eaten this off-season.”
“That’s lucky,” I muse.
“I wouldn’t say it’s luck as much as choosing a location near their biggest investor.”
“Is that investor you?” He shrugs in response, and I can’t stop the giggle that spills out of me. It’s cute that a this two-hundred-and-thirty pound polar bear of a man can still be shy.
“Come on. We have more of booths left to check out. Don’t think I missed you eyeing the one full of yarn.”
We finish the pastries and continue walking around the fair, stopping at a few stalls. When Ralphie is distracted at a wood carving display, I splurge on a set of hand-carved crocheting hooks. He sends me an unimpressed glare but doesn’t say anything when he spots my bag.
After we’ve made a few laps, Ralphie drives me home. Walking me to the door, he kisses my forehead before listening to me lock up behind me.
It’s only 10 p.m., and I’m perplexed. On one hand, I appreciate him showing me that he wants to spend time with me for more than my body. On the other hand, I want his body. He must be old-school and waiting until date number three.