Chapter 7
STONE
Iwonder if she knows how peaceful she looks when she’s sleeping.
Even though I woke up half an hour ago, Harlow is still in a deep slumber. I’m sitting up in bed, admiring the sun streaming in, even though I can tell that clouds will arrive soon. Maybe it’s the morning light that makes her appear softer and striking.
This isn’t me. Not in the slightest. Going slow.
Is that what we’re even doing? Are we heading somewhere, or are we just friends who have an elevation of something more?
Either way, I’m not used to any of this.
I’m the guy who has dated with clothes off on date one, and normally by date two, we’ve upgraded it to more provocative physical activities, and date four or five, I let her loose to avoid attachment from their side.
But now, I’m drawn to Harlow and apparently have patience and a side of me that’s gentler than my persona would suggest or than I believed possible.
Harlow begins to stir and groan as she wakes up and stretches her arms over her head. I wonder if she realizes a smile is fixed on her mouth. Her heavy lids begin to lift until her eyes open.
It takes a few seconds, but then she soaks in her surroundings and shoots up in bed.
“Morning.” I have to smirk because maybe she forgot I was here.
Harlow adjusts her body until she’s looking at me. “Morning,” she rasps, and her smile changes to one of more ease and euphoria. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long. You were out like a light.”
Her face puzzles. “I was?”
“The whole night. I woke up a few times. That pillow should be burned for what it does to people’s necks,” I explain as I begin to massage the back of my neck.
“I slept? The… whole night?” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
Harlow’s eyes widen slightly. “I slept a whole night,” she repeats to herself, almost as if this is profound.
My hands splay out. “See? I kept my promise.” Our eyes lock, and a bittersweetness shades across her face before her smile widens.
“It’s been a while. And I feel… rested.”
I slide off the bed, energized. “Good. Shall we order some breakfast?” I’m unsure if I should let her ponder on the significance of this moment or keep her mind occupied.
Turning the television on, it opens to the hotel channel, and I quickly use the remote to get to the room service menu.
For some reason, I don’t want her to overthink this.
Maybe it only brings up everything she wants to forget.
“Croissants and fruit if we want continental. Eggs and bacon, even fake bacon, if we want to go all out. Ooh, oat pancakes. I bet you love those.”
Harlow makes her way out from the covers, clearly content to start her day this way. “You’re right. Oat pancakes sound great.”
“Perfect. I’ll order us some things, and I will quickly head to my room to get dressed, unless you don’t want to be alone.”
She chuckles. “It’s fine, you can disappear for a little bit. Ah, you actually made a reservation here.”
“I wasn’t going to assume anything.”
“You just deliver apples. And yeah, sounds like a plan.”
We stare at one another, realizing that we entered a new realm. At least for Harlow. Me? I’m still kind of in shock that I’m in a patient state and wish I could make all her bad thoughts vanish, so I’ll just try.
Harlow’s lips twitch, and her eyes tell me that she’s thankful.
I nod once before I head out.
By the time we’re sitting around the table in her room eating a breakfast that admittedly is more food than we probably need, I want to plan the rest of the day.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” I ask.
A sound from the back of her throat escapes. “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting you, remember?”
“You never were,” I rasp to myself, and I don’t mean just last night, instead the first moment we met. And I know I feel the same about her.
Harlow seems to grasp the meaning behind my words as she quirks her lips to the side. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Making me sleep.” Her eyes dip down to the fork that she’s fiddling with. It’s the way her voice weakens that makes me not answer her, as I feel she wants me to patiently wait and listen.
Her mouth parts open and a sound scrapes from her throat.
“It was two years ago…” She doesn’t seem sure where to look until she flicks her eyes to me.
“I-I…” she quivers then swallows, gathering courage.
“It was late, and I was walking to my car, when out of nowhere, this guy… he was too strong.” She blinks her eyes rapidly.
Not wanting to remember yet, she wants to share.
Harlow avoids looking straight at me. “He took advantage of me in the worst possible way. I didn’t just end up with ripped-up clothes.
My world was ripped away from me, and my life changed after that. ”
I wasn’t going to push for her to share, but she has, and it feels like a rock hits me between my stomach and heart with every word she says as she relays the events of that night.
I appreciate that she’s opening up, but I honestly don’t know what I can say.
The rage inside of me is hard to simmer, even though my intuition has already prepared me for how dark this memory for her would be.
She must pick up on that. “The police never found him, and I let it go after a while. Completely shutting out the thought that he’s walking around somewhere was my first step to finding a sliver of normalcy.
Maybe I’ve moved on for the most part. Well, I mean, stopped being angry or asking why.
Yet the panic attacks still hit when I least expect, and the feeling of suffocation just restricts me at moments that I can’t predict.
So, there you are. You don’t need to try to piece the details together, and we never have to replay it again. ”
I stare at her blankly, in awe that she unwrapped the mystery to me. “You didn’t need to explain, but I appreciate that you did. Doesn’t mean I hate that it happened any less.”
Harlow dips her gaze down before striking back up. “I never really talk about it… except with you it seems. My friend Flo knows and the therapist I tried a few times only seemed to overanalyze. Why are you, Stone, a key for a lock I thought could never open?”
I reach over the table to touch the top of her hand. “I’m not sure. But I am.”
Her eyes catch mine again, and they seem heavy yet optimistic.
We shouldn’t sulk in this serious conversation for too long. I want to see her smile again and to relax or be distracted. Diversion seems to be my talent today. “Hey, you’ve never seen a hockey game, right?”
Harlow sniffles a sound as she rolls her eyes. “Remind me of my failed book research. But no, never have.”
I cluck my tongue. “Let’s go to a game tonight. My brother can easily get me an extra ticket. I was going to watch it anyway.”
“Uhm, sure, why not?” Her mood inches up the ladder to a barely-there smile appearing as she agrees.
“Awesome, and before then… we could walk around?”
Her smile crawls a little wider. “Sounds perfect.”
The sound of the crowd keeps us stuck in the adrenaline of the hockey game. We’re sitting where there are a lot of Spinner fans, and the curses at the referee and other players that quickly changed to cheers could give anyone whiplash.
We spent the afternoon walking around, holding hands, because suddenly I’ve gone a little chaste, and checking out Pike Place Market. Then, after heading to a coffee hotspot where Harlow had tea—sweet of her to tag along for my coffee needs—we headed back to the hotel and took a cab to the arena.
“I don’t quite understand.” Harlow is studying the ice where players are heading toward the attacking zone.
“It’s called a power play. Because someone on the Seattle team got sent to the penalty box for two minutes, they are one man down.
Which means the Spinners have more players on the ice.
Therefore, a better chance to score,” I explain as I look forward, only to glance up to the VIP boxes where I see my brother busy looking out the window and speaking to a man next to him.
“Okay, that makes sense. But why are there literally like twenty people on the bench when only six play on the ice?” Harlow grabs another handful of popcorn from her box.
“Because you never know when someone will get hurt, tired, or the coach needs to swap players due to performance. Especially, if the goalie gets hurt, then they need to have another player ready. That’s why you have alternates.”
She brings a finger up to the air. “Okay, I think I’m getting this. And the captain isn’t an official role but pretty much is the lead on the hierarchy of players on the team. More, a morale booster who just so happens to play exceptionally.”
I laugh. “You’re doing well. I should give you a test after all this.”
Harlow lolls her head to the side when she gives me side-eye.
“Truthfully, this is all kinds of exhilarating. It moves superfast and is kind of entertaining. It’s almost like if you blink, you miss something.
Although I would hate to be sitting behind those clear wall thingies down by the ice. You’re too close to the fights.”
I curl my arm around her shoulders, and she doesn’t seem to mind.
“It’s called the boards, and it’s probably one of the best seats in the house.
You are aligned with all the action, as if you’re on the ice.
Not to mention, you have more chances of getting a few words from the player when they leave the ice.
When I played, I mostly focused unless a kid was there with a sign pleading for anything, a stick, a puck, a wave.
There was also an old lady once who had a sign saying it was her first time at a live game after sixty years of waiting, which was kind of cool. ”
Harlow gives me a knowing look. “Miss it more than you thought?”