Chapter 72 Let Loose, Try New Things #2
Evan pays the bar tab and says he’ll see me later.
Dissatisfaction.
That’s what I’m feeling right now. It’s not just about being here in Vegas.
It’s about life in general. Evan’s got me thinking.
What do I love about Emily? I felt like we barely connected when she was in town.
It could be blamed on her hyper-focus on schoolwork, but really, I think we don’t have that much in common.
And if her negative, somewhat patronizing comments were anything to go by, I think she feels that way too.
There was a constant, uncomfortable strain between us that I’d never noticed before.
I slept in the spare bedroom and Emily didn’t even comment about it.
There was no kissing, no cuddling, no…connecting.
The first real smile I saw was when she was texting someone just as she got to the airport to return to Montreal.
Am I a fool for trying when she’s probably already left our relationship?
Am I simply coldhearted that I can’t see clearly what I love about her?
It’s as I’m pondering this that I receive three texts from Emily. Ones I should have been expecting if I’m honest.
Emily: I think we need some space.
Emily: This weekend was weird, and I think the distance is hard.
Emily: I’m sorry. I just need a break.
I have no idea how to respond to them, so I walk out into the evening and look for a bar with live music. It’s what I need right now. Music. When I find one worth listening to, I step in and take a seat at the bar, ordering another beer.
The music is good. Not as good as Billie’s band, if I’m comparing.
Thinking back on our impromptu jam session, she really is an amazing drummer.
Expressive about music in a way I could never be.
I feel a little badly about how I reacted to the low-cost musical equipment she purchased for the program.
In hindsight, I was still smarting from the weekend with Emily, which did not go as I envisioned.
I think I took it out on Billie, who was totally valid in her point about buying cheaper equipment for kids who are just starting to learn the instruments.
I’m two beers in when someone sits next to me. A woman, with dark hair. At first, I pay her no attention as I watch the band. The crowd is picking up, and the music is growing on me.
When I turn, though, I realize it’s Billie. She smirks at me. “Hello, Cal.”
“Hello.”
“Wondered when you’d realize I was sitting here.”
“Just here to listen to some music,” I say, taking a sip of my beer.
“Well, don’t let me stop you. I just wanted to say hi since I saw you sitting here.”
“Okay.”
Billie’s nose and mouth do a crinkly thing that’s cute but makes me think I didn’t answer the way she wanted me to. I don’t know. I’m not good at reading people, I guess.
“Can I buy you a beer or drink of choice?” I ask after a moment.
She shrugs. She’s dressed simply, in a white T-shirt, jeans, and tall boots.
Her hair is piled up big on top of her head in a wild way.
It’s pretty though, the purple ends falling down, making me want to touch it.
I like how she looks. Real and approachable.
Sexy, but in an understated way that I like very much.
“You look nice,” I say before signaling the bartender, who comes over and gets her drink order.
“Thanks. You look tired.”
“I am. I had a strange weekend and a strange practice today. I’m having a hard time settling in here.”
“I gathered that. Sorry it hasn’t been an easy transition for you. I read about you. You got a crazy-good deal when you came here. Most pro players would be thrilled.”
“Most pro players would, you’re right.”
Her beer arrives, and she clinks it against mine before taking a swig. “Do you like this band?”
“They’re okay. The energy is better now than when they started.”
“That happens sometimes. Bands get energy from the crowd, for better or worse. This crowd seems good.”
“Do you know them?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “As much as we play out, you’d think I’d see more live music, but I really don’t. This is the first time I’ve come out in a long while.”
“By yourself?”
She looks around and gestures. “Me and all my friends,” she jokes with a laugh.
“You surely have friends, Billie.”
“I do, but no one wanted to come out tonight, and I was in the mood for a drink and a listen, so here I am. And here you are. Small world.”
“Small world,” I repeat for lack of an original thought of my own.
Things feel awkward as we sit next to each other, drinking our beers, listening to the band. It’s not a bad feeling, so much as I don’t know what to say to her. I’m glad for her company, though.
We have a few more drinks, commenting on certain songs or funny things people in the crowd are doing.
As the night goes on, it becomes more comfortable between us, and I enjoy her company, the conversation, the music vibe of the club.
It’s a good time with her. Even more than that, if I’m truthful.
I’m fixated on her lips, remembering the kisses we shared on that first night we met.
I try to shake it off. I am still, technically, with Emily. I am still, technically, committed to trying to make our relationship work. And Emily is still, technically, with me, though her actions over the weekend certainly gave a different impression.
When one particularly good song comes on, Billie jumps up and claps her hands over her head, her hips swaying.
She crooks her finger to get me to dance with her, but I shake my head, unable to stop myself from grinning.
She rolls her eyes and dances in front of me for at least three songs, shaking her butt and being silly before grabbing my hands and saying, “I’m hungry! ”
“Want to go get food?”
“Yes, sir, that’s why I said it!”
I stand, tossing money on the bar to close out our tab as she tows me out the door.
“I want chicken and waffles,” Billie announces, holding my hand and pulling me down the street to a small take-out place.
“Chicken and waffles?” I frown at her. “That just sounds weird.”
“You’re gonna love it, I promise.”
“I’m not so sure…”
Twenty minutes later, I’ve devoured my portion, a whole fried chicken breast, and a crispy waffle, both slathered in maple syrup.
“I stand corrected.” I rub my stomach. “That was tasty.”
“See? You need to let loose and try new things.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I can tell you’re a little uptight. You like your life to be tidy and predictable. Which is why I have a hard time figuring out why you play hockey. How you play hockey. It seems like the inability to control the outcome would drive you crazy.”
“I don’t worry about anything other than my own job. I can control my own outcomes.”
“Spoken like a man who likes to be in control.”
“It’s not a control thing really,” I try to explain it to her. “It’s a routine thing. I like routine.”
“So, you had your routine in Montreal and now you’re figuring out what your routine will look like in Vegas?”
“I suppose I must because it looks like I’m going to be here for a while.”
“Hmm.” She puts her lips together as she makes the sound. Billie has very pretty lips.
“Can I get you a cab to take you home, Billie?”
“Will you share the ride with me, Cal?”
“I don’t know where you live. Does it make sense to share a ride?”
“We’ll figure it out,” she says with a smile.
She goes to hail a cab. I can’t help but think about Emily’s text messages earlier.
I think we need some space. I’m sorry. Should I be texting Emily back, agreeing with her?
Should I be telling her that while we have space and while she needs a break I’m going to sleep with another woman? Would. She. Care?
I look up as a cab pulls up and Billie hops in, leaving the door open. “You okay there, Cal?”
Seeing her beautiful, eager face, I make my decision. I nod, sliding in next to her. “I’m fine.”
“Where to?” the driver asks.
“Just drive for a minute,” Billie tells him. “We’re figuring it out.”
The cab starts moving, and I’m confused.
Just as I’m about to ask what she has in mind, she crawls onto my lap, puts her hands on my cheeks, and kisses me hard on the mouth.
She bites softly at my bottom lip, and I open my mouth, our tongues mingling, our mouths a mix of beer and chicken and the sweetness of maple syrup.
It’s weird and hot at the same time. As our kissing intensifies, she grinds her hips against me.
I’m getting hard when I find my hands have moved to her hips, holding her against me.
A firm yank pulls her even closer. She feels too good to resist.
I break from her mouth to kiss her neck, her hair tickling my face. She sighs and then rolls away, taking her seat next to me, fanning her face with her hand as she giggles slightly.
“I’m not drunk,” she says breathlessly. “I just want you to know that.”
“Okay?” It comes out as a question, because I feel I should ask her what she wants here. I think I know, but then I’m worse than bad at reading interactions with people I barely know.
“What’s your address?” Billie asks abruptly, breaking through my spiraling thoughts.
I don’t know if I should do this…if we should do this. But then I think of Emily’s texts…
She wants her “space” and needs “a break.”
Well, she’s had both, hasn’t she? I’m far away, in another country even. And I’m all alone. She’s got Nick, whoever that is. The guy she can’t stop messaging when she’s spending what little time I made for us to be together.
Billie is real. She’s here, and she’s warm, and her mouth feels good on mine.
She doesn’t seem to care that I’m awkward, that I’m strange.
She doesn’t care that I’m a hockey player.
She seems, at this moment, to simply want me.
And I think I want her too. It’s a hard pill to swallow, to believe you’re in it for the long haul with someone, only to see it fall apart at the first challenge.
But then, a bright light appears in the form of a woman who can beat the hell out of a drum kit, a woman who shows up right when I seem to need her the most.
I look over, and she’s obviously awaiting a response. What’s my address? She asks again, more insistent this time.
I tell the driver my address.