Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
LUKAS
The first thing I notice when we step into the pub is how quiet it is.
No crowd spilling onto the pavement, no shouting over music, no bodies packed shoulder to shoulder.
Instead, there’s low conversation, the clink of glasses, and the steady hum of something playing softly through old speakers.
It’s only Callum and me today, though, so we go unnoticed by the locals when we’re not in pack formation.
Callum glances around and nods approvingly. “Good. I can actually hear myself think in here today.”
“That’s dangerous,” I reply, pulling my hoodie down as we make our way to the bar.
He snorts. “Says the man who overthinks nothing.”
I don’t answer that. Mostly because it’s no longer true.
We order pints of Molson, my favourite beer from back home, and take them to a small table tucked away at the back. It’s out of the way enough to feel private without being hidden, and I drop into the chair opposite him, stretching my legs slightly as I take the first sip.
The burn is familiar and grounding. For a minute, we don’t talk about anything important.
We soak up the atmosphere before we go over the game, picking apart moments as we always do.
Missed chances, clean plays, things we got away with.
It’s easy, automatic. The kind of conversation that fills space without effort.
Callum leans back in his chair after a while, studying me over the rim of his glass.
“You’re quieter than usual.” He points out.
“I’m drinking beer,” I say. “That requires concentration.”
“Mm.” He doesn’t look convinced. “You’ve been like this all day; in fact, you’ve been quiet for a couple of days now.”
I shrug one shoulder, looking down into my pint instead of at him. He lets the silence stretch just long enough to make it deliberate.
Then he says, “You missing home, or is it the teacher?”
I exhale slowly, a small smile pulling at my mouth despite myself. “You are obsessed with this teacher.”
“I’m interested,” he corrects. “There is a difference.”
I shake my head, but I don’t deny it this time. Callum leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “So, what’s going on?”
I roll the glass between my hands, watching the condensation gather at my fingertips. This isn’t something I usually talk about with anyone. Not like this. But Callum’s easy-going and steady. He doesn’t make things bigger than they are, unless it’s necessary.
“I want to ask her out,” I say finally.
He blinks once, slowly. Then sits back as though I’ve just confirmed something he already knew. “Right.”
“That’s not a helpful reaction, mate.”
“What do you want me to do? Clap?” he replies dryly. “You’ve been orbiting this woman for weeks.”
“I have not been orbiting.” I try not to sound irritated, but my accent doesn’t help.
“You stalked her work email,” he deadpans.
I wince slightly. “It sounds worse when you say it like that.”
“Because it is worse.”
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling through a quiet laugh. “I did not stalk her.”
“You absolutely did a little bit.” Callum chuckles at my slight unease.
“It was efficient research,” I correct.
Callum grins. “Of course it was.”
I shake my head, but the humour fades quickly enough. “It’s different.” That gets his attention.
He tilts his head slightly. “Different how?”
I take another sip before answering, buying myself a second to get the words right. “I don’t do this as a rule,” I say.
“Do what?”
“This.” I gesture vaguely between us. “Thinking about it. The whole planning it and caring if it works. It’s not my usual take on women.”
Callum watches me carefully now, the teasing edge gone. “What do you usually do?” he asks.
I huff out a breath. “You know what I usually do.”
“Say it.”
I roll my eyes. “I pick a girl. We have fun. It ends there.”
“Puck bunnies,” he smirks as he lifts his pint to his lips and takes a long drink. “You sleep with puck bunnies.”
I don’t argue, I nod in agreement. “Puck bunnies.”
“And that’s not what this is.”
“No, it’s not.” The words come easily. Certain. Callum nods slowly, as if fitting the pieces together. “She’s not…” I trail off, searching for the right way to explain it. “Kate’s not my usual type. She doesn’t care about any of this.”
“This?” he echoes.
“The game. The attention. Me a hockey player.” I shrug. “She looks at me like I’m just another man.”
Callum smiles faintly. “Tragic.”
“Be serious,” I say as I kick his foot lightly.
“I am,” he answers, affronted by my accusation. “You’ve never had to work for it before. That’s what’s freaking you out.”
I don’t like how accurate that is. “She’s got a son,” I add after a second. “He seems… careful and protective.”
Callum nods. “And that scares you?”
I shake my head immediately. “No.” But then I pause. “Maybe a little.”
Callum leans back, crossing his arms. “Good.”
I frown. “Why is that good?”
“Means you actually give a shit.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It should be,” he says simply. “You’re not some idiot who doesn’t know how to treat a woman, Lukas. You’re not a rookie, you know how this works. You’re an adult.”
“That’s debatable.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice is firm now. “You’re a decent bloke; solid. You just don’t bother when it’s easy.” I glance up at him. “And this isn’t easy,” he adds.
I shake my head again, but there’s less resistance in it now. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Callum raises an eyebrow. “What? You don’t know how to ask a woman out?”
“Not like this. I don’t want to mess it up,” I admit.
Callum leans forward again. “Alright, then don’t.”
I blink. “That is not helpful, mate.”
“It is,” he insists. “Stop overcomplicating it. You like her, and she likes you. Just ask her.”
“How do you know? She hasn’t said that.”
“She gave you her personal email,” he points out. “That’s basically a signed document.” I can’t help the smile that pulls at my mouth. “Email her,” he continues. “Ask for her number. Then ask her out properly.”
I hesitate. “Just like that?”
“Yes. Just like that.”
“She might say no.”
Callum shrugs. “Jesus, man, how old are you? I think you’ll survive, you’re a big boy. You’ve taken worse hits on the ice.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “It’s better.”
I look down at my glass again, turning his words over in my head. Better.
“Go on,” he says, nudging my foot under the table. “Do it now.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, now. Before you talk yourself out of it.”
I exhale slowly, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s a great idea,” he counters. “And you know it.”
I open my email, her name already sitting there from the last thread. My fingers hover over the screen for a second, then I start typing.
Hi Kate,
I pause and look up at Callum, who gives me an encouraging nod as he smirks, then I continue.
I realised after Friday that email might not be the best way to talk, especially if someone is watching over your shoulder.
A small smirk pulls at my mouth as I type the next line.
I would like to upgrade our communication methods. Preferably to something that does not involve school administrators or the possibility of someone else seeing our messages.
I glance up at Callum, and he nods. “Good start.”
So, I continue.
If you are willing, I would like your number. I promise to use it responsibly (this may or may not be true).
And because I’m trying something new, I’ll be direct. I would like to take you out. No hockey. No crowds. Just you and me.
Dinner, maybe. Or a drink, somewhere quieter than an arena.
No pressure. But I thought I should ask properly.
Lukas
I read it once, then I read it again. Uncertainty runs through my veins. This is so out of my comfort zone.
Callum leans across the table, scanning it quickly. “That’s annoyingly charming.”
“I try.”
He points at the screen. “Send it.”
I hesitate for half a second, then I hit send. The moment it’s gone, I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
“Well,” Callum says, lifting his glass. “There it is.”
“There it is,” I echo, picking mine up again.
We clink them together lightly. For a minute, nothing happens, but then I can’t resist checking my phone anyway.
“She’s not going to reply immediately, so stop staring at your phone.” Callum teases me.
“I’m not.” I drop my phone onto the table with a quiet thud. “See, I am not staring at it.”
He grins. “You’re worse than a teenager.”
“I regret telling you anything.” I cross my arms over my chest and huff like the child he accused me of being.
We fall back into easier conversation after that, drifting onto other topics, but a thread of tension sits under my skin now. By the time we finish our drinks and step back out into the cold night air, my phone is still silent.
Callum claps a hand on my shoulder. “Give it time. Because if you check it every thirty seconds, I will take it off you.”
“That’s theft.”
“It’s called intervention, my friend.”
I shake my head, pulling my hood up slightly against the cold. “Go home, Callum.”
He laughs. “Text me when she replies.”
“I will not.” But he knows I will.
We part ways at the corner, and I walk the rest of the way home alone, the quiet settling around me in a way that feels different tonight.
By the time I get inside, I drop my keys onto the counter and finally pick up my phone again, but still there’s nothing.
I huff out a breath, running a hand through my hair.
“Relax,” I mutter to myself as I toss the phone onto the sofa and head for the shower, forcing myself to let it go. But when I come back, towel slung low around my waist, steam still clinging to my skin, the screen lights up. One new email. My pulse kicks instantly.
I open it without thinking.
Hi Lukas,
That’s definitely a better communication method. For both of us.
There’s a pause in the text, like I can feel her thinking through the words.
Here’s my number:
The digits sit there, simple and direct. My chest tightens as I carry on reading.
Dinner sounds nice.
I stare at the screen for a second, a slow grin spreading across my face. No hesitation now. I save her number immediately, then switch to messages. My thumbs hover for a fraction of a second before I type.
Lukas: I was hoping you would say that.
I hit send before I can overthink it.
The reply comes faster this time.
Kate: Confident.
I lean back against the sofa, smiling to myself.
Lukas: Only when I am right.
There’s a brief pause before the dots start bouncing on the screen again.
Kate: We’ll see about that.
I huff out a quiet laugh.
Lukas: Tomorrow night?
Another pause, it’s longer this time, and I wait, watching the screen as my heart beats a faster rhythm in my chest.
Kate: I have Hudson.
Of course she does, so I adjust my approach instantly.
Lukas: Friday, then. I’ll plan something. You just have to say yes.
The typing bubble appears, then disappears before reappearing again.
Kate: You’re very sure of yourself.
Lukas: I have reason to be.
The bubbles disappear and show she’s gone offline, and I briefly panic before the ticks turn green again.
Kate: Okay. Friday.
That does something to my stomach that I’m not used to. Something sharp and warm all at once swarms through me.
Lukas: Good. I will text you the details.
Kate: I look forward to it.
I stare at that last message for a second longer than necessary. Then I lock my phone, dropping it onto the sofa beside me as I lean back, exhaling slowly. Callum was right.
This is different.