11. Walker
ELEVEN
Walker
“Oh, my freaking God, Walker, move over !”
Harper drove an elbow into my side that Gordie Howe would have loved. I grunted but stood my ground. There was only one mirror. She was going to have to share. “Why are you even in here? Since when do you spend ten minutes trimming your nose hair?”
“Okay, first thing. I am not trimming my nose hair. I’m just making sure none are sticking out.” I tipped my head back. She made a yucky face, then used her ass to push me behind her.
“That is so gross. Why are you worried about your nose hairs? You said you were meeting the art guys for pizza and a movie,” she grumbled as she began applying eyeliner to her left lid. I reached up to rub my nose. “Dude! Do not bump me. Holy hell! Why are you so big and dopey?”
“This is a community space.”
“Like hell. Get out. Go pluck your nasty body hairs in private.”
Knowing I was likely to get a roundhouse kick to the mug, I shuffled out of the cramped bathroom. The door hit me on the ass on the way out.
“Chicks are so emotional,” I whispered through the door.
Profanities that would make my teammates blush flowed through the crack of the door.
Snickering softly, I padded back to my bedroom.
And that was when I hit problem number one.
What to wear. This was a special night. Finally, Finn and I were able to go out together.
That kiss we shared had lingered in my head.
I’d even gotten sideswiped by Bob in morning skate during a scrimmage.
Like totally laid out on my ass with a body check that really wasn’t all that robust. I’d just been daydreaming along the boards instead of paying attention to the locomotive named O’Ryan chugging down the tracks at me.
The other Copperheads found it humorous as hell.
Even Coach smiled. Bob patted my helmet and offered me a hand as I sat on the ice.
“Better get your head in the game, Han-Man.”
Rubbing my ass as I stood, I chuckled and nodded. It was kind of nice to have a nickname. That was a rather big sign of acceptance in hockey. Not that I would have chosen Han-Man, but The Great One was already taken, so Han-Man it was.
I pulled open my closet and folded my arms over my bare chest. There was really nothing that stood out in my wardrobe.
Most of my suits hung there, covered with dry cleaner plastic, having not been worn since I’d been in Rochester.
The pros had a strict dress code, citing that suits had to be worn to games.
This league was a little more lax. The Copperheads did ask that we dress respectably, with no offensive slogans on our clothing.
I usually just pulled on some clean jeans, a tee, and a Copperhead hoodie.
Maybe a toque in our team colors of cream, black, and gold. Some nice sneakers. Done.
But this was not a hoodie and jeans night.
I wanted to look good, impress Finn, and show him that even though I was a hockey player with some head issues, I could romance a man with class.
The eatery I had chosen wasn’t too fancy, but it wasn’t flip-flops and torn shorts either.
Not that anyone was wearing flip-flops as the temps were hovering around zero.
Aside from Arnaud, but I suspected he wore them just to try to prove how much tougher Canadians were than the American players.
I’d caught him soaking his cold toes in a hot foot bath before gearing up for last night’s game, but I kept that tidbit to myself for future use.
I began rooting through my clothes. Fifteen minutes later, I had five outfits tossed over my unmade bed. I hated all five.
With a sigh, I exited my room and crossed the hall to rap on Harper’s door.
She called me in, so I stepped into her domain.
She was on the bed in a baggy sleep shirt, legs in a lotus, and hair pulled up atop her head in some sort of wild do.
Her gaze flitted from the bottle of nail polish in her hand to me.
Three toes on her left foot were painted crimson.
“I’m painting,” she told me as if I couldn’t see that.
“Can I get your thoughts on what to wear?” I asked and instantly knew I should have just pulled on whatever.
Her slim brows narrowed, a small hoop in her right brow catching the light from a garage sale lava lamp beside her bed.
She was watching season one of some anime about a kid and his demon protector. Typical Harper show.
“Why are you worried about clothes to meet the guys for pizza?”
“Never mind.” I spun and left. I heard her feet hit the floor.
“Wait, just wait.” I walked faster. She thumped into my room behind me, walking with toes up and heel down on one foot but normal on the other.
“This is… shit, this is a mess. Okay, so this chaos,” she waved her red nail polish bottle at the heap of shirts and pants on the bed, “tells me that you are not having pizza with the art guys.”
“How did we even get that name?” I asked as I reached for a striped polo. She pulled it out of my hand.
“Do not ever wear that out in public. Are you going on a date?”
I thought to lie. I really did, but I could never deceive Harper. We’d been through too much together.
“I’m meeting Finn for dinner.”
Her brown eyes, the same deep cocoa shade as mine, went wide. She squealed at top volume, then did a funky little dance. I rolled my eyes and folded my arms.
“Yes! I knew it. I knew you liked him! I could tell by how you talked about him. I insist on meeting him soon!” She gave me a fast hug, passed over her bottle of red polish, and started flinging clothes about the room.
“Nope, no, oh God, this has stains. Nope, ugly, super old.” Shirts and pants were tossed over her shoulder with wild abandon.
“I’ll just wear a suit,” I said, and got a dark glower over her shoulder.
“No, a suit is too stiff. I think we can use some dress slacks and dress them down.” She started shoving clothes into my chest. Dark gray slacks, a light blue dress shirt, and a smoky ash sweater. “Do them. Oh, and a watch. Do you have boots?”
“Uhm, maybe? Like hiking boots?” I shuffled the clothes in my arms.
“Well, yeah, if nothing else. Are they black? Let me see.” She dove into my closet, emerging a few minutes later with black suede shoes I’d forgotten I owned, a sleek belt, and a coat that would keep me warm for about five seconds.
“This is what you wear. The coat is for looks only, so don’t plan to be outside for too long.
Dress socks. Do not pull on some ugly old tube socks that you’ve jerked off into.
Right. Get dressed. I’m going to call the girls from the gym and tell them I’m running late to get to the club. I love that you’re dating!”
She gave me a quick hug and then ran off, leaving me standing in a pair of fleece joggers with an armful of date attire, chuckling.
Five minutes later, I was dressed. I had to admit my sister knew how to clothe a man for a night out with his art teacher slash hopeful steady dating guy. Man, that was a long title.
“Take it one step at a time, Walker,” I whispered to myself before heading out to meet the man I had pulled on too-tight boots for.
Chrysanthos’ Café was packed. I was really glad I had reserved a table because the tiny club was wall-to-wall diners. Stepping out of the cold, I waited as instructed by a sign telling me the hostess would seat me. I removed my coat and hung it up on the coat rack to my left.
My nerves were on edge. Glancing into the dining area, I saw that most of the tables were occupied by couples.
This was a really nice place to go on a date—small but trendy—with a three-piece band of older men seated on a triangular stage in the far corner, playing a lyra, a bouzouki, and a small drum, performing soft Greek tavern songs.
The lights were low, the music mellow, and the aromas of veal stew, the special tonight, filled the warm air.
A blast of cold air blew in behind me. I turned to see Finn hustling inside, his hair coated with soft flakes, his cheeks bright pink.
“Hey,” I said as he skidded to a halt just inside the door.
“Wow,” he replied, his eyes moving over me from head to toe. “You look incredible.”
He shrugged out of his coat with my help.
I gave him a quick head-to-toe. “I clean up okay. So do you. Look incredible, I mean. Really sexy,” I replied and found a hanger for his winter coat.
His outfit was much like mine. Slacks, a sweater over a shirt, and a dark green scarf that made his hazel eyes pop.
I wanted to tell him I thought he was pretty, but that seemed a private thing. “My sister picked out my clothes.”
Thankfully, the hostess, a lovely young woman with long black hair and olive skin, appeared with two menus and a gracious smile.
A true savior, she was, because Finn must have thought I was an untrained ape who couldn’t match pants with tops.
That was kind of true, but still, I didn’t need to broadcast my lack of style.
She led us to a round table beside a window that looked out onto a snowy veranda.
Little blue fairy lights outside turned the snow a soft sapphire.
I hurried to pull out a seat for Finn, who blushed prettily before taking his seat.
“The waiter will be over shortly. Kali oreksi,” she said before moving off.
“I hope you enjoy Greek food,” I said as a waiter appeared with drink menus and a lighter to spark the wick in a slim candle in the middle of the table.
“I love it,” Finn replied. We both ordered a non-alcoholic orange spritzer, then stared at each other over menus. “I really like the ambiance of this place. Also, I called my brother to ask which shirt to wear with this sweater. I was nervous.”
Hearing that lessened my embarrassment. “I was nervous too. I wanted to show you that I’m not just some violent jerk.”
“I know that.” He reached out to touch the back of my hand. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think you were a good man.”
I may have puffed up a bit hearing that. “Thanks. I’m trying. So, how was school today?”
The warm smile he had been wearing faded.
“It was a little stressful,” he confessed and shook his head.
“But that’s not a conversation for a date.
Do you want to do some appetizers? I see they have mini dolmas stuffed with lamb.
” I couldn’t stop watching his mouth as he spoke.
His lips. They were so pink, so soft. I knew what they felt like under mine, and I longed to feel those pliant—“Walker?”
“Oh, sorry, yeah, sure. Love that.” He could have ordered pickled leg of brontosaurus for all I cared.
“Get whatever you want. I love Greek food.” He gave me a tilted little smile.
Which, for some reason, engaged my damn mouth.
“When we were kids, we had this old neighbor couple from Greece, Mr. and Mrs. Doukas. They lived right next door, and sometimes when things got intense, they would stand on their side porch and sing old Greek songs to let us know they were home. Harper and I would slip over when Dad was sleeping off the rage, and they would patch me up, feed us lots of moussaka and lamb meatballs, and baklava that would melt in your mouth.”
He reached over the table to touch the back of my hand. I felt that gentle caress all the way to my marrow. “I’m so glad you had the Doukases to comfort you in trying times.”
I nodded, uncomfortable. “That was not date talk. Sorry. I, uhm… ” I looked around the busy dining area for our waiter but couldn’t find him.
Finn squeezed my hand before returning his attention to the menu.
Relief washed through me. That was one thing I really liked about Finn.
He knew I had a tractor-trailer load of bad shit in my past, but he never judged or pushed me to talk about it.
He was just there, patient, kind, understanding, and willing to let me say what I wanted when I wanted.
And that was why he had gotten the best teacher statuette.
“Well, I would love to try the lamb meatballs for starters. Someday, I would love to visit Greece. Have you ever been?”
“No. I’ve been to cold countries. The Vipers played an exhibition game in Finland last year. That was pretty cool. Got to see the Northern Lights and eat lots of fish. Like, lots of fish.” That made him chuckle. “Maybe someday we can visit Greece.”
And as soon as that fell out of my gob hole, I wished I could suck it back in.
Sadly, there was no way I could. The comment floated by on a wave of warm air scented with the delicate aroma of braised pork a server was carrying past our table.
“I mean, like on a tour or something. As friends who date.” He blinked.
I blew out a breath. “Okay, no, not as friends who date. As men who date. Dating men. Who kiss. And like each other. Together. To Greece. In the summer when I’m not playing and school is out.
That kind of thing. But if that’s too pushy, and it probably is, because I have no class when it comes to being a decent person. ”
“Walker, I think a trip to Greece as men who are dating sounds wonderful. If we are still dating come summer, of course.”
“Oh, nice. Well, sure, of course. I hope we are.” I seriously wanted to slap myself in the face with a goalie stick.
A big, fat paddle was the only thing that would do at this point.
“I’m not sure why I’m being such a putz.
Guys are not supposed to say how much they like someone or how they hope a new relationship works out. ”
He placed his menu down. The candle flickered. The hostess joined the trio in the corner to sing “I Agapi Ine Zali” for the diners. She had a really pretty voice. A few couples rose and moved to dance in front of the musicians. There wasn’t much room, but nobody seemed to mind being elbow to elbow.
“I think guys should say what they feel. Right now, I’m hoping that we’re still dating come summer, as well.”
Feeling all kinds of things that I wasn’t skilled enough to put into pretty words like Finn could, I placed my hand on the table beside the candle, palm up.
He laid his smaller hand over mine, and that was when I moved from a heavy crush to falling in love, which scared me to death while it also made my toes tingle.
“Wanna dance?” I asked and got a nod. We joined the older folks on the dance floor, the only queer couple swaying back and forth. If the others surrounding us gave us funny looks, I wouldn’t have known. All I saw, once he stepped into my arms, was Finn. He eclipsed the earth and those living on it.
Yeah, I was free-falling hard and fast. I hoped the landing was a gentle one.