Eighteen #2
“They’d been together since they were fifteen. Seventy years together is a lifetime. I can’t even begin to imagine losing someone who has been by your side your whole life.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry for your loss, Alex.
I know it’s only words, but I’m so sorry.
” He squeezes my hand, his eyes brimming with sympathy.
“You two are doing incredible. They’d be so fucking proud of you and what you’ve achieved.
Yeah, it probably feels like shit at times, but I mean it—if I can help in any way, I’d be happy to. ”
Taking a deep breath, I blink away the tears. “Thank you for today. I didn’t realize how much I just needed someone to be there for me.” I give him a small, shaky smile.
His face lights up, but he downplays it by giving a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I think I aced it, to be honest.”
I laugh, grateful that he’s trying to lighten the conversation. “You did.”
“Those people loved me, and I think I look pretty fucking sexy in an apron.”
“Yeah, you do.”
He'd taken his hoodie off within ten minutes of being behind the counter, and the white apron against his gorgeous, bronzed skin. His thick, corded forearms and bulging biceps that looked ready to burst the seams of his athletic-fit Chicago Thunder tee.
Yes, it was very distracting, and oftentimes I found myself wanting to stand and stare, possibly drool a little. The thought of how he would look wearing just the apron ran through my mind a lot.
A dark brow kicks up. “Bet you’re wondering what I’d look like in nothing but an apron.”
I roll my lips to stop the laugh from coming out. “You got me.”
“I knew it!” He grins, stretching his arm across the back of the booth. “You think I’m hot, and you want to see me naked.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I raise my hands to cover them, and my skin is hot to the touch.
I can’t deny it. I really do.
Who wouldn’t want to see this Adonis of a man naked?
“I can’t confirm or deny that accusation.”
“I can honestly say I’ve wanted to see you in only an apron before, so it's only fair.” He winks.
My earlier conversations with Nate and Jacob come flooding back into my mind. It may be too late to keep my defenses up, because if today's act of kindness has proven anything to me, it’s that Blaine isn’t here just to get me in bed.
I think he actually cares about me.
If I was just a meaningless fuck, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to bring me lunch when he knew I was busy. He wouldn’t have stepped in to help, and he wouldn’t still be sitting here, just holding my hand, after I opened up about my struggles.
“Is there anything else you need me to do?” He asks.
Stop being so damn dreamy!
“No, I couldn’t ask any more from you. I need to get started on some custom orders; I’ve only got two, so it shouldn’t take me long, then I’ll get cleaned up and check on Jacob.”
“I can help clean if you tell me what to do.” He suggests.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Perhaps I can come over and make you dinner tonight?” He rubs the back of his neck. “Like, if you don’t mind? I don’t want to intrude, especially with Jacob being sick. I just thought maybe—”
“That sounds great.” My heart squeezes at his nervous ramble while I toy with the napkin again. “You know, you’re nothing like I expected you to be.”
“Um…” He chuckles. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yes.” I snort. “I had this impression that you were a cocky and arrogant playboy.” I sigh, feeling awful for even voicing this now that I’m starting to see what I think is the real side of Blaine.
“I’m sure you know the image painted of you on the internet isn’t a nice one, but nobody has seen this side of you, have they? This unsure, almost anxious side?”
He lets out an unsteady breath, then shakes his head. “No, only my brother, Ethan, and Zach.” His eyes darting everywhere except on me.
“When I signed my contract with Thunder, I had a lot of growing up to do. I got my heart hurt in college, and figured the best way to get over it was to get with other people. I basked in the attention I was getting, and it worked for a while. Then I tried relationships again…” He trails off, dropping his chin to his chest. “People didn't want to be with me for me. They wanted the status. It made me feel kinda worthless, like if I wasn’t in the NHL, they wouldn’t give a shit. I was just a trophy to brag about.”
The vulnerability behind his confession is evident—the crease in his forehead, the perspiration around his hairline. The way he anxiously rips up the cupcake wrapper into small pieces.
“Until I met you. You challenged me to look at things differently. There was something about you that I couldn't get off of my mind. Something that made you special.” He laughs, but it lacks humor. “I sound so fucking cliché.”
When he finally looks at me, that’s when I see it.
Insecurity.
Fear.
“Alex, it fucking terrifies me that I can already see myself handing my heart over to you, and that you have the power to crush it.”
“But I wouldn’t…”
“You don’t know that. You can’t promise me that, and I wouldn't expect you to. I get nervous around you because you scare me. Because of how much I want you, and it’s more than just sexual attraction, which scares me even more.
Because the last time I felt even an iota of this, I had my heart torn to shreds. ”
There’s a sting in my chest. A dull ache for him and for the younger Blaine, who was thrust into the spotlight while trying to come to terms with his emotions. It’s soon replaced with rage. How could people not see the incredible person he is?
“I’m not gonna pretend I’m a saint because I’m not, but the media control the narrative.
Some of what you read is true… There are guys who aren’t loyal, they’ll cheat whenever they can.
Some take advantage of the sex readily available to them, using it to feed their egos, but then you’ve also got the guys who are silently pining for their best friend or too afraid to let love in in case it hurts them. ”
Another heavy sigh leaves him, his wide shoulders slumping, his upper body folding in on itself.
“At the end of the day, we’re still normal guys.
Yeah, we’ve all got massive fucking egos like every other professional athlete on the planet, but we still have feelings.
We still have trauma we’re dealing with; we just have to do it behind closed doors because society has made us feel like we’ve gotta be tough off the ice, too.
A lot of us play into the narrative by letting the world believe we’re these cocky, arrogant assholes, but in reality, we can be awkward as fuck.
We devote so much of our lives to the sport that sometimes we struggle off of the ice, and they’re not kidding when they say hockey players are weird.
” He taps his temple with his finger, a shy smile playing across his lips. “We’re weird up here too.”
I swallow the lump in my throat that’s formed from his sad admission. Slipping out of the booth, I sit next to him and take his face in my hands. The soft stubble grazes the palm of my hand as I lean in and press my lips to his in a tender kiss.
His hand curves around my neck and his tongue runs across the seam of my lips, sliding into my mouth. The kiss is gentle, unhurried, and I melt into the moment. When we part, I rest my forehead against his and give him a small smile. “I’m sorry for thinking negatively of you.”
Blaine holds my face in his hands. “I don’t really care about what the rest of the world thinks of me, but I want you to see the real me.
I did hook up a lot; my headcount is higher than I’d like to admit, but it was more because I didn’t think I was worthy of anything else. You make me want to be better.”
“You are worthy, Blaine. You are so worthy.”