Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Florian
I leave the massage room. I can’t bear to sit opposite Mateo and have him apologize again.
I want to return to my apartment and lie under the duvet and see whether when I wake up all of this will have been a bad dream, and Mateo will be next to me telling me he loves me.
But that won’t happen.
This is not the murky world of nightmares. This is the bright world of reality, where water smells like citrus, and everything is light.
Coach waves at me in the hallway. “Having a good day?”
“Yes.”
“We’re about to go onto the ice. You can watch from the stands. Maybe you’ll remember something!”
I flinch. I need to tell him I remember. But then I’ll have to admit that I made up my relationship with Mateo and I don’t want to do it. I am selfish. I don’t want to see confusion on Coach’s face, on my teammates’ faces.
“That sounds good,” I say instead, and I follow him to the ice. I sit on one of the plastic seats where non-athletes sit. I lay my hands on my knees and keep my breath steady. I will not give in to the urge to hyperventilate.
I want to lift weights and concentrate only on the burn of every muscle. I watch my teammates practice in a way I’m not allowed to.
Some of them helpfully reintroduce themselves to me. Everyone is pleasant, straight out of an etiquette book.
But are they upset I got injured? Are they resentful I’m getting paid while watching them?
How could I have been so careless?
A few look at me with sympathy, and I don’t know if it’s because of my injury or if they can see the panic in my eyes.
I press myself against the seat and square my jaw.
Hockey sticks slam against the pucks, and Troy dives this way and that. My hands tense. I want to be gripping a hockey stick. I want to be flying across the ice.
I remember when I met Mateo for the first time. I liked him at once. I liked the way he looked, and I liked the way he filled my awkwardness and silence with words. And when he touched me…
Mein Gott, I liked that too much.
Dummkopf.
But he knows all that now. He knows my subconscious was crazy about him.
I am so embarrassed.
I got on my dream team, and met my dream man, and everything is ruined.
My pulse struggles.
I do not have the best boyfriend in the world.
I am alone.
Mateo
The team is practicing on the ice, and I sit in the massage therapy room by myself. I go over notes from their physical therapists, but I already know their information.
My mind can only think about Florian.
He remembered.
Fuck.
I slide onto the floor and bury my face in my hands. The massage table and the chairs where Florian and I sat loom above me. They should belong to someone more professional, someone who manages to avoid making a brain-damaged client think they are dating.
Florian was pale and polite and I’m pretty sure, completely devastated.
He should have been able to trust the staff at his job.
I won’t be going back to Florian’s apartment with its million-dollar view and its pool area filled with millionaires. I won’t be chatting with Florian’s very alive parents. And worst of all, I won’t be going home with Florian, having dinner with him and lying in his bed.
I will miss him. So much.
I met a sweet man, and all I did was turn his life upside down.
I wanted to be a massage therapist to help people, and instead, I’ve…
No, I don’t want to think about it.
I force my gaze to study my future appointments, but the black-and-white words turn to some type of blurry gray, and nothing gets back to normal, no matter how much lemon-and-cucumber water I drink.
Maybe Florian is telling everybody what I did now. Maybe Coach and Daniela will appear somber faced and tell me that I’ve been an abomination as a Blizzards staff member and to pack my things and leave.
A knock sounds on the door, and I jump.
I swallow in the eucalyptus-scented air and stride to the door. This is my fault. Whatever happens, I will be calm. I will not cry.
I open the door.
Troy grins. “Hi, loverboy!”
He saunters inside and hops on the massage table and starts stripping.
I’m pretty sure I’m staring at him in confusion. He draws his eyebrows together. “Because of—”
“Uh, right.”
Does that mean that Florian hasn’t told everyone? Or that he hasn’t told Troy? Is he meeting with Coach now?
Should I tell Troy? No. No, I can’t.
I need to speak to Florian again, I realize.
The team all think we’re together. Which we’re not. Obviously.
Does he want me to tell them? Resign perhaps? Find a hotel who needs a massage therapist where the guests change regularly, and am unlikely to mislead anyone into thinking I am their boyfriend?
I will do whatever he wants.
“Where’s Florian?” I ask.
Troy laughs. “Aw. You miss him already? He was watching practice. He’s probably in the gym now. Or speaking with Coach, maybe?”
I swallow hard. “Sorry. Roll over.”
Troy does so happily. The man loves massages.
All I need to do is remember to give one to him and not to spend my time staring off into the middle distance and asking about Florian.
Once I finish the massage, I hurry to find Florian.