Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
OLIVE
Waking up with Charlie in her arms was not where Olive expected last night to lead, but she was not disappointed that it had ended that way.
They’d ended up showering together again, lazily kissing before collapsing into bed.
With Charlie’s game the next day, Olive did not want to test out any more of their sexual compatibility, and Charlie was more than happy to turn in early to get her rest. It was a little awkward when Charlie thanked Olive for the experience, but Olive joked that it was her duty as a Canadian to make sure that their athletes were well-prepared and rested for the game. Elbows Up, and all that.
Now in the morning light, Olive couldn’t resist studying Charlie’s resting face.
She had a natural beauty to her, and it was almost hard to believe she was a professional athlete and not a model.
Olive was sure the two overlapped occasionally, but she was almost tempted to suggest that to her as a potential career.
Olive had a feeling Charlie wouldn’t see it that way, but she loved her muscles.
There was nothing sexier than someone who could support you, literally and physically, and Olive was more than happy to make Charlie see that in the future.
“Morning,” Olive said, and kissed Charlie’s cheek. She didn’t want to wake her up, but Charlie had mentioned needing to be up early. Based on the light creeping in, it was almost time for the alarm Charlie had set to go off, but Olive wanted to spend some more time with her before she had to go.
Charlie rubbed her eyes open. “Good morning.”
She stood up and stretched, the robe only showing Olive bits and pieces of the gorgeous skin she knew was underneath.
Olive was being a patriot by letting her leave her bed, and it was one of the most patriotic things she had done in recent history.
She wondered if she could get the Prime Minister to write her a letter?
Olive was chuckling about this to herself when Charlie turned back to her.
“You okay there?”
“Yes, just joking to myself.”
Charlie shook her head and walked to the bathroom.
Olive sighed and stood up, looking around the room.
They had cleaned up after their sexcapades yesterday, so there really was nothing to distract herself with there.
Olive picked up her phone from where it was charging on the nightstand, but with the time difference, Bronwyn was not yet up to keep her company.
Olive knew she’d want an update about what happened last night, but she did not want to give it to her yet.
“What are you going to do today?” Charlie had exited the bathroom now, watching her.
“Not sure yet,” Olive admitted.
“Do you want to watch a hockey game?”
“Like… your hockey game?”
Charlie nodded.
“Sure, that would be nice.”
Charlie smiled in a way that Olive had rarely seen on her, and Olive nearly melted. If all she had to do was go watch a boring sport to see that smile, Olive would happily be bored for the rest of her vacation.
“What do I wear?” Olive asked, suddenly concerned that she had nothing suitable.
“Whatever you want,” Charlie said, so helpfully.
Olive shook her head, the panic setting in a little bit. “I’m serious. I’ve never been to a hockey game.”
Charlie furrowed her brows and walked closer to Olive, taking her hands in hers. “What are you so worried about? It’s okay, you’ll look nice no matter what. Just find something red.”
“I don’t have anything red.”
Olive knew that it was stupid to be worrying about this, but she couldn’t help it.
She always showed up to every event in the perfect costume, the exact right attire, and speech.
She didn’t even know the hockey lingo, and now she would show up in completely the wrong colours. This was going to be a disaster.
“I don’t remember that to be the case,” Charlie joked, clearly referring to the lingerie Olive had worn earlier for her, but Olive only frowned deeper. “You know there’s no dress code to supporting me, right?”
Olive closed her eyes and tried to process what Charlie was saying. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Charlie shook her head. “If it’s important to you, I’ll make sure the next time you see one of my games, you’re wearing one of my jerseys.”
“Next time? Do they even make jerseys for the Olympics?”
Charlie swallowed and blushed. “They do but I meant… in Toronto. I’ll get you one of my Succubi jerseys.”
“I keep forgetting your team mascot is so unique. Seems accurate, though,” Olive said. The shift in conversation, though not less stressful, was much more interesting to her now.
“Oh, in what way?”
“You seriously cannot be asking me that after what we did last night,” Olive laughed.
Charlie moved closer and kissed her softly. “Will you come watch my game now?”
“Of course, I’ll be there today,” Olive replied.
“Right. Today.”
Charlie kissed Olive again, but moved away after a moment.
Though Charlie was mysterious in so many ways, she was also too easy to read.
Olive wanted to make that promise to be there for her in Toronto, but she had to be realistic; this would end in disaster.
It had not been a week since Olive had been dumped, and there was no way she could make a commitment then and there.
To someone who regularly travelled for work, no less.
To someone who was more of a celebrity than Olive could ever hope to be.
Olive was lost in thought, and she could only watch as Charlie moved about the room and changed into her clothes from yesterday. Olive snorted as she watched Charlie pull out a pair of underwear from her inner jacket pocket.
“Wow, you had high hopes for yesterday?” Olive asked.
“Well, you never know when you may need a fresh pair,” Charlie responded back, as if it was a perfectly rational thing to bring to a date. Maybe it was.
Charlie finished dressing and walked back to Olive, kissing her again. Olive let herself melt against Charlie, choosing to forget the worries that had clouded her mind.
“I’ll text you with details later. Make sure to cheer for me.”
“I will,” Olive promised.
That much, at least, she could do.
When Charlie texted Olive later that day that she had a ticket saved for her at Will Call, Olive had no idea that it would be this close to the ice, and right behind a closed off tiny room that she assumed was the penalty box.
Olive did not know much about hockey, but she had read a few hockey romances that mentioned it.
She was sure that when the game started, she would probably be more confused, but at least she would be able to learn more about Charlie this way.
Olive was curious to see her in her element.
Olive was seated next to a few older people, folks holding handmade signs and wearing Canadian paraphernalia that made her believe they were the parents or family members of other players.
Olive wasn’t sure if Charlie’s parents would be there, but considering that there was no particular hubbub around her, Olive figured that wasn’t the case.
From what Olive remembered when she googled, the Lajoies were famous all around.
She assumed if Charlie’s parents were in attendance, her dad would be fawned over.
The announcements overhead were loud, and Olive tried to focus on them as the music cut off and the announcers began stating the starting players. They introduced all of Team Sweden, and Olive clapped politely with everyone else in her section.
When the starting players for Team Canada were announced, everyone in her section stood up and clapped.
Olive joined them, trying to channel their excitement.
All the names were unfamiliar, and Olive found it amusing when a player with the last name Campbell was called ‘Soup’ by the crowd.
When Charlie was called, Olive momentarily paused, unused to hearing her legal name.
She regained her composure quickly as Charlie skated onto the ice to where the rest of the Canadian team stood.
Olive may have even hooted and hollered with everyone else.
She did not dare to imagine that Charlie heard her, but it was still nice to show her support.
The audience all waited patiently for each team’s national anthem to play, and when it was over, a single player from each team moved to the center of the ice, where they circled a referee holding a hockey puck.
As the players faced each other, Olive couldn’t help but try to see if she could spot Charlie in the lineup.
Olive did not believe she was the player in the faceoff—she belatedly realized why so many hockey romances had this name!
—and she tried to figure out where Charlie was on the ice.
That didn’t last long, because as soon as the puck dropped, all the players were a flurry on the ice.
The Team Canada players moved swiftly, trying to keep the puck away from the Swedish players.
It was a fast-paced game, and Olive could barely concentrate on anything but the motion of people skating across the ice at great speeds.
It was gripping, and she found herself on the edge of her seat with the rest of the people in her section.
They all watched with bated breath as the Canadian players attempted to score, the Swedish goalie not giving them any room to maneuver as they expertly stopped each puck.
The folks near Olive would cheer when the puck got close, then inevitably groan when it bounced off the net or when the goalie would stop the puck with their large equipment.
This happened for a few minutes, and Olive was finally getting into the rhythm of the game with the crowd.
Though some people chatted around her as they watched, Olive was glued to the ice, wanting to see everything.
Finally, the Canadians regained control of the puck again, doing their best to try to score one more time.