Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
Charlie really shouldn’t have been there. It was stupid, and ridiculous, and she was not either of those things. She was an all-star hockey player, predicted to help Team Canada take home the gold in this year’s Winter Olympics.
Soon-to-be Olympic gold medalists did not go to random bars in the middle of the night, and certainly not the night before a big scrimmage.
She just needed to relax. She could not play with the way she was feeling. Today’s practice made that clear.
Her father’s incessant yelling still echoed in her head.
“Lajoies do not play this way,” he’d said, slamming down the front page of the paper four years ago. Charlie could still feel those prickles of embarrassment that had flooded her.
It was humiliating.
While Team Canada had won the gold and she’d been there, she’d joined the celebrations in spirit only. She’d been benched. Not good enough to play that day. Charlie was too distracted, too sloppy.
When she was focused on the game, nothing else had mattered—but that year had been different.
She had a girlfriend.
It wasn’t the girlfriend that was the problem, at least not outright. It was the amount of time she wanted to be in her presence—or in the presence of something that wasn’t related to hockey. Every moment spent being in love with someone was a moment spent away from what actually mattered—the game.
Though her father hadn’t known, Charlie could tell that he had caught onto her cutting down on her extra practice times.
That she spent less time at the rink that she normally would.
She had thought it was natural; she was growing older and more independent but the newspaper laid out on the kitchen table reminded her that it was all a fantasy.
Charlie had already long accepted that athletes didn’t get to have fun. So what was she doing here in the middle of the night?
She tried not to think too much about it as she entered the bar. She had decided to leave the Team Canada ensemble at home, but she wore her signature all black and the team-provided fanny pack. It was obviously Canadian-made, but definitely not as flashy as the Team Canada stuff.
She made her way to the bar, determined to go with her original mission.
One drink. Just order one drink to try to relax, and then I can go to sleep for training tomorrow.
She walked past tables full of people, friends and lovers who seemed to be all celebrating something.
Charlie turned to the TV, unsurprised to see sports coverage in Italian.
She could hear chatter in Italian around her, locals tuning in to their sports analyses.
She breathed a sigh of relief, hopeful she would not be recognized here.
“One glass of wine, please,” she asked the bartender. They nodded, turning back to present a wine glass in front of her.
“America?” they asked curiously in a slight accent.
“Canada,” Charlie corrected, smiling. Though some of her American friends claimed that she had a distinct Canadian accent, she could not hear it—and her theory that she didn’t sound so different from them seemed to hold up whenever she travelled outside of North America.
“You’re not alone. There’s one more of you here,” the bartender continued, nodding their head towards a table where a woman sat staring at the screen.
She had curly light brown hair that seemed to shine in the restaurant light and though Charlie only caught a side profile, she could tell that she was one of my most beautiful people there.
Charlie turned back to the bartender. “Not all Canadians know each other, y’know.” After years of strangers telling her that since she was from Canada, she must’ve known their friend from on the other side of the country, she felt she was in the right to be a bit defensive.
The bartender shrugged. “Maybe you can make a new friend, then.”
She grabbed her glass with a thanks and leaned against the bar as she thought it over. Though it was probably not the best idea, she decided, fuck it. She was only in Italy once, and talking to an attractive stranger could be part of the relaxation she was aiming for.
Charlie walked over to the woman’s table and paused a few spaces away from where she sat.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, pointing to the empty chair closest to her.
“Go ahead,” the woman said and Charlie sat down. The woman continued to watch the TV, and Charlie sipped a bit of her drink as she thought of what to say next.
“Do you speak Italian?” Charlie finally decided to ask.
She turned to her then. “No, I’m Canadian. I just appreciate all the camaraderie.” Charlie looked around the bar, and she could see what she meant. Seeing this many people passionate about their own community was particularly nice.
“I know,” Charlie said.
“That I appreciate camaraderie?” she asked.
“No, that you’re Canadian. Bartender told me.”
“Oh,” the woman looked past me towards the bartender, who gave them both a wave when Charlie turned slightly to follow her gaze.
“That’s nice of them. I may have mentioned that I was here by myself, and they said they’d find me a friend by the end of the night. I guess they kept their word.” Her smile was warm, and it was hard not to smile back.
“Now, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing here all alone?” Charlie asked, taking a sip of her wine as the other woman paused slightly.
“Just on a vacation,” she finally said.
“To see the Olympics?” Charlie knew the question may have been revealing her identity, if she knew anything about hockey, but she was still curious.
“No, I had this booked months ago with my girlfriend—well, I guess I should say ex. We just broke up,” she rambled, interrupting herself with a sip of her own drink. A slight blush hinted that she may not have wanted to share that much.
Charlie was intrigued. “That’s her loss. Now you’re here in beautiful Italy, and I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding someone who can distract you from all that.”
“I hope so,” she sighed and turned back to the TV. Charlie watched a few minutes of it with her, until the stranger turned back to her with a question. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so rude. I didn’t ask what brought you here.”
“Work,” Charlie responded.
She nodded. “Where in Canada are you from?”
“I’m originally from Ottawa, but I live in Toronto for work now.”
“Your work seems to dictate a lot of your life, huh?”
Charlie paused at the question. It wasn’t that her assessment was incorrect, but it was a bit startling to hear a stranger read her so well from only a brief conversation.
“I guess so,” Charlie finally managed and turned back to the screen.
She wanted to think of something pithy and clever to say, but flirting had never been one of her strong suits, and she was starting to regret that.
Charlie wished Blake were here to hype her up.
They were always good at doing that. And also teaching her to flirt—they could definitely help with that.
“I’m from Toronto too, actually,” the beautiful stranger finally said. Charlie glanced back at her and she smiled at them.
“Cheers to two Torontonians in Italy,” Charlie replied and they clinked glasses. It was getting tiresome to refer to her as beautiful stranger in her brain, so she decided to do what any normal person should’ve done right away, and ask for her name.
“I’m Olive,” the woman said.
“Charlie,” the hockey player replied. There was no look of recognition across Olive’s face as she stared at her, so Charlie decided that her identity must really be safe with her. Olive put down her drink and leaned closer to her.
“So, workaholic Charlie,” she said. Charlie tried to search her eyes but was getting very distracted by how close she was. “Do you want to do something to take your mind off work?”
Wow. That was as clear of a proposition as she’s heard … and she was not mad at it. Wasn’t that what she wanted? A chance to relax? It didn’t take Charlie long to match Olive’s smile, and that twinkle in her eye.
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”