Chapter 37
ALIA
Me:
You sent me food.
Hockey Boy:
Oh, you got it. Is it good?
Me:
Delicious.
There’s enough here to feed my entire family, by the way.
Hockey Boy:
I know Irsia isn’t in town and I didn’t want you getting lazy
We know you’re a little couch potato when no one’s looking
Me:
I thought you liked potatoes.
Hockey Boy:
Baby, don’t tease.
Me:
I did nothing. You’re unreasonably excited at the mention of potatoes. It’s concerning.
Hockey Boy:
What’s concerning is that my game against Phoenix is about to begin and I still don’t have a picture of you eating
Me:
Is that your new kink?
Hockey Boy:
I have a you kink. Send me the picture
Me:
…naked?
Hockey Boy:
Goddammit, you’re going to give me a heart attack
Now I’ll be thinking of you eating things naked all game long
Me:
Sorry
Hockey Boy:
No you’re not.
If I blow this game…
Me:
You won’t.
But if you do, I’ll be the consolation prize and make it up to you.
Hockey Boy:
You’re not a consolation prize, Tots
You’re Olympic gold
***
Afortnight has flown by since my confrontation with Namik and he has finally gotten the memo that his presence in my life is completely unwanted. Or it might simply be the protective order my lawyer was happy to file on my behalf.
Unfortunately, the man who held my hand through it all has been absent since.
I think about Cal far too much for it to be normal.
He’s found renewed restraint after our tryst in the Ironhearts’ utility room.
Where my boundaries are steadily fading, Cal is determined to slow down and not overwhelm me.
I’ve been kissed and touched by him at every possible opportunity, touched him in return, and found more confidence in what I like. I’d be concerned he hasn’t taken me to bed except I’ve seen that his desire for me runs deeper than I gave him credit for.
I don’t mind the slow pace. Penetrative sex still worries me a little but, with Cal, I’m learning that pleasure comes in many forms. I’m sure when we finally go all the way, I’ll feel far more prepared than I was when I first embarked on this journey of self-discovery.
I’ve needed a lot longer to let go of my inhibitions than I’d initially realized.
Every day, I’m glad my previous dates failed.
Cal’s patience with me feeds the confidence I was lacking.
Irsia tries not to be nosy but even she’s been giving me the side-eye lately because every evening, like clockwork, Cal’s call lights up my phone.
Between his away games and the adoption event at the shelter which has kept me occupied, we’ve had to rely on messages and chats late into the night to make up for the lack of face time in real life.
I assume this is what dating feels like, though I am careful not to let myself get comfortable with that thought.
“Here you go. Enjoy.”
I thank the server as she places my salad on the table and dig in.
I glance across the road at the green field where children run about, this time with a man trying to herd and direct them.
He holds a bat and demonstrates the curvature of its swing.
He does this slowly so the range of motion of his entire arm is visible to me and, I’m certain, his captive audience as well.
A tiny hand shoots up, a young girl volunteering to be the first one to give it a go.
She runs up to the wickets and takes her position but fails to deliver on the hit.
The coach, a well-built man with a shock of black hair, bends down and pats her on the back.
He taps her shoulder and jiggles her arm to help her loosen up, making her laugh.
The sweetness of their interaction has me smiling.
She tries again, whacking the ball into the air. I can tell she’s put strength into it. Still, the hit doesn’t cross the boundary.
I know what her problem is. It’s in the way she’s angling her body. I could adjust that for her easily.
But I’m no one. Why would they take my advice?
I drag my gaze back to my meal, trying my best to block out the conflicting noises in my head.
Possibilities battle uncertainties, begging for a chance.
My eyes fall on the empty seat across from me.
Many months ago, in this exact café, at this exact table, Cal dropped by unexpectedly, claiming to be my friend.
If he was here, what would he say?
Unbidden, I hear his voice, clear as the day is bright. Be brave.
With him, I am. I’ve been changing. I know it. I’ve become more comfortable in my skin, more confident because he allows me space to grow.
Then what’s stopping me from doing that now?
I’ve been promising myself to move into the future as a stronger version of who I was. Maybe it’s time for me to do something to show I’ve grown. I can’t simply keep wishing for change when I don’t take steps to make it happen.
I exit the café before I change my mind and walk around the block until I’m standing at the entrance of the cricket club. The vinyl logo of a bat and ball on the glass greets me and I can’t help but run my fingers along the edge of the design.
Like a puzzle piece notching into an empty slot, my heart locks in place.
It’s been years since I last touched a cricket bat.
The ache is so visceral, my vision blurs.
But, instead of the fog of crushing bitterness, there is now the hope of something sweet.
With new beliefs giving me wings, I enter the cleanly maintained building and approach the lady working the reception desk.
“Hello,” she greets me, her polite smile growing confused by my nervous appearance.
I square my shoulders, clasping both hands together to stop them from trembling. In the most professional voice I can muster, I say, “I’d like to speak with your program director, please.”