14. Olivia
14
olivia
H ayes is beside me, my pulse racing as our thighs touch on this very small porch swing. He’s still in his suit from the game. It’s royal blue and nicely tailored, and he’s paired it with a crisp white dress shirt and a navy tie. He’s also wearing some surprisingly trendy black dress shoes with no socks. Most men’s dress shoe selection is lackluster, but Hayes’ shoes are sharp. I don’t know why the dress shoes with no socks and a suit does it for me, but oh…it does it for me. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Hayes these past few weeks. I’ve woken up several times, my heart pounding against my sweat-slicked skin after having feverish dreams about what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted that night at Walt’s. The emotional roller coaster of the past few weeks has been crippling, a constant tightness in my chest draining me of all energy. The weight of suspecting my boyfriend was hiding something, the guilt of dreaming about another man, and the deep ache of wondering if the relationship needed to end, all while fearing the uncertainty and loneliness that might follow, has been overwhelming. But right now, I just feel…safe.
“What made you get into hockey?”
He shrugs as he pushes his feet on the ground to rock the porch swing back and forth. “I went to a friend’s birthday party when I was really young. Five or six, maybe? It was an ice skating party, and I remember being super excited about getting cake. I have a bad sweet tooth.”
“Fun fact - I happen to be an excellent baker. You like peach pie? That’s my specialty.”
“I love peach pie. Any pie actually. Especially when it’s warm with a nice scoop of good quality vanilla ice cream. Not the cheap generic ice cream. It has to be one of the good brands where you can see the little flecks of vanilla bean in it. That’s my dream cheat day. How fast can you whip that up? Like ten minutes or so?”
I laugh at his intimate description of the good vanilla ice cream and his dessert request. “Sadly, it takes a couple of hours, but I’ll make you a deal. If I buy some peaches, and you can help me peel them and cut them up, I’ll make a peach pie for you.”
“Deal. I’m a horrible cook, but I can totally peel your peach.”
I sit up straight at the thought of him peeling anything off of me. “Actually, wait right here,” I say as I head in the house. I come back out with a plate of caramel brownies I baked yesterday. “It’s not peach pie, but I made these, and they are sweet.”
Hayes’ eyes grew wide. “Oh. My. God. Seriously? These look dangerous. I’d better sample them to make sure,” he says, taking a brownie and inhaling it in almost one bite.
“Hory shiiii. Eese are ‘elisious,” he tries speaking with a mouth full of brownie crumbs spraying across the porch. He swallows, his fingers dancing over the plate as he fights with himself over eating another. “These are definitely dangerous,” he snatches another one off the plate, “but I cannot stop eating these.”
I smile, pride filling my chest at his compliments, knowing he means every word. I take the final brownie for myself, setting the plate on the wicker table beside me. “Glad you like them. Now that we’ve gotten your sweet tooth settled, finish your story about the skating birthday party. I want to hear how you fell in love with hockey.”
“Oh, right! So, when we got to the party, I got my rental skates on and went out on the ice. I stumbled for a few minutes, but I caught on and got the hang of it quickly. The only way my mom got me off of the ice was by reminding me about the cake,” he continues, and I chuckle at his serious love of sweets. “After the party, I asked my mom if I could take skating lessons or something, and she found an intro to hockey program. Thankfully, it’s a big sport in Minnesota because they don’t have these programs in every part of the country. I was just one of those kids who had a natural knack for it. And now, here I am, an opening night MVP for the Riders. Overnight success,” he says as we both laugh.
God, I am a sucker for a guy with a great sense of humor. Add together a nicely tailored suit, trendy dress shoes with no socks, a sweet tooth, and a sense of humor, and I’m lost. This has been a rough night, but it’s surprisingly trending upward.
“Yeah, I’m sure the league had you in their draft at age seven, right? No hard work after the pee-wee leagues at all,” I taunt, my voice thick with sarcasm.
“Yep, no hard work at all. It’s a miracle,” he replies, raising his hands in the air like he’s at church. “Seriously though, it’s like I said the other night at the bar. You can have God-given talent, but it’s up to you what you do with it. I worked hard, really hard, and ended up at the top of my game at the right time. I was drafted right out of high school, went to college for development, and then finally got the call up to the big show.”
“So, all that talk about talent and hard work the other night wasn’t just about me. You’ve done the same thing?”
He smiles and nods, his leg resting fully against mine.
“I can only imagine the amount of hard work required to be a professional athlete. I do a thirty-minute workout on my spin bike and want to die. I can’t imagine skating up and down the ice as fast as you do. I would pass out after one trip across the rink.”
Hayes' laughter fills the air, gently shaking the swing beneath us. “It’s a lot of hard work, that’s for sure, but I love it. I love the game. I love the look of the ice right after it’s been resurfaced by the Zamboni. I love the camaraderie with my teammates. It’s indescribable, just a great game. But you seem to know a bit about hockey yourself. Did I catch you using the term deke earlier? How do you know so much?”
My cheeks flush, my eyes staring out at the quiet street. “Only from the Mighty Ducks movies. Gordon Bombay and his famous triple-deke,” I say as he laughs. “I mean, it’s only the greatest movie of the 90s. I always imagined I’d be Julie ‘the Cat’ Gaffney. Except, I’m a horrible skater. I look like a baby giraffe learning to walk. So, my hockey dreams, along with my dream of being an astronaut when I realized I wasn’t great at science, quickly vanished. If I wasn’t on a little rug when I sang, I’d probably fall flat on my face.”
He laughs, his joy contagious as a smile spreads across my face. “Well, maybe I can help you with the skating since I have a little experience with that. Or, at least, help you learn to walk on the ice and not fall.”
“I may take you up on that,” I say with a nervous smile. “But, seriously, I probably do know more than the average person when it comes to hockey. When I was younger, my dad used to take me to games at the local college. He knew the coach, and that’s where I fell in love with the game. And, as a teenager, there was a cute goalie I wanted to see.”
Hayes raises an eyebrow, a smug look morphing his face. “Oh, do tell me about this cute goalie. Have you always had a thing for hockey players?”
“I don’t have a thing for hockey players,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest and bumping his arm in the process.
Well, maybe I have a small, teeny-tiny thing for one hockey player.
He waits, lifting his brows in mock intrigue and interest, leaning in closer than I expected. I can smell his shampoo and see how the ends of his hair curl as they’re drying. I sigh, rubbing my hands along my legs as I suck in a fortifying breath.
“I was fifteen, and it was a cute college guy. I honestly only saw his picture in the program since he was wearing a goalie mask during the game, so I can only assume he was cute in real life. But lil’ ol’ fifteen-year-old Olivia didn’t care.” I lapse into a comfortable silence, the memories of that game skating through my mind. “The game was fun. I loved the violence and the fights; they were exhilarating. It’s probably my favorite sport.”
“Probably? It is going to be your favorite sport now. Don’t make me put you in the penalty box for liking a sport more than hockey,” Hayes replies playful, nudging me with his elbow and adding a little gruffness to his voice.
“Oh, I didn’t realize there was a penalty for such a thing. I really enjoy college basketball. March Madness can get pret-ty crazy, especially when my bracket is winning at the office. But…” I cheekily tap a finger against my chin, pretending to be deep in thought, “which sport do I like better? They both have a lot of action. Basketball has more scoring, but the hockey scoring is way more intense, and I get to see grown men brawl.” I peek at Hayes out of the corner of my eye, his gaze locked on my lips. “How. To. Choose?”
“Olivia,” he says in a much more serious tone. “Let me walk you to your door.”
“Oh. O-okay,” I say, shocked and a little nervous. My eyes widen and my stomach churns as I stand and move towards the door. Did I say something wrong? I hope he knew I was just joking. Biting my lip, I fight the growing panic in my chest. Oh God, now you’ve done it, Olivia; you’ve pissed him off. “I’m sorry. I was just joking; I didn’t mean to -”
Hayes places his hands on my face and presses his lips to mine. My heart races as his kiss calms all of my worry. My body struggles to stay standing as I melt into his touch. If I’m being honest, I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks. I wrap my arms around him as I open my lips to deepen the kiss, his tongue stroking mine. Damn …his tongue is powerful. I’m not sure if this is a muscle needed for hockey, but he’s got skills. He’s kissing me as if I’m the last person on the earth, and he’s been starved of human contact for years . He tips my head back to press against me fully, and I let out a small moan, craving the feel of his muscles against the curves of my body.
Dear God, how does this man do these things to me?
As he pulls away, he takes a step back. “I hope that made your favorite sport decision a little easier,” he says with a smirk while I wipe the drool from my face, a little stunned and in disbelief.
“Jury’s still out.”
He laughs a deep belly laugh and smiles back at me, his eyes practically sparkling. “Olivia, thank you for the pleasure of driving you home tonight and allowing me to walk you to your door.”
“No, Hayes, seriously, thank you . After everything that happened today, this was exactly what I needed.”
“And what is it that you needed?”
I think for a second, a small smile twisting my face. “Perspective.”