CHAPTER 8
LUCY
The only thing we had time to do was exchange phone numbers, finally.
“Text me when you get home. In the house.” He called after me as I ran to my platform, narrowly making it before the train pulled out of the station.
Once my ass hit the cracked pleather seat doubt itched its way into my mind.
Should I have stayed and had the most amazing crazy sex filled adventure?
Probably. But the way he was touching me felt like something different.
I didn't want that feeling to end and sometimes when you jump in too fast it doesn't linger as long.
At least that is what I had to remind myself in the cold cab of the train when the thought of Sasha wasn't as warm as the actual feel of him.
Sasha: Are you home yet?
The buzz filled the nearly empty train car with light. I swooned because I knew it was him. His named flashed on my screen and those butterflies came back quick.
Me: No. Go to sleep, don't you have like some crazy morning practice?
Sasha: We leave for Florida tomorrow, back in a few days.
Me: Well good luck! And thanks again for tonight, for everything. I had a great time.
Sasha: Me too.
I saw his dots pop up and then disappear, then pop up again. The waiting was agony. It was torture and pleasure all at the same time.
Sasha: How is your lip?
My head fell back on the train seat. How is my lip? Terrible because it isn't in your mouth, isn't around your dick, isn't red from your beard. I wanted to type back to him. I wanted him to be touching it and concerned over it and all the stupid shit men do when a woman gets hurt.
Me: I'll be OK
Sasha: I feel bad about it
Me: It wasn't your fault
Sasha: I don't do that kind of stuff you know?
I had to read the message a few times. It felt like he was confessing a lot more than an accidental head butting.
Me: Do you think I worry that you will be violent?
Sasha: I get a bad wrap because of my job
Me: I wouldn't be flirting with you if I had any fears. I think I have a worse temper than you anyway
The dots showed up again, then disappeared, then showed up again. This happened five times for the next ten minutes. I was getting sleepy and now a little worried. But my train was about to arrive home in twenty minutes and I didn't want him falling asleep before we were on the same page.
So, I Facetimed him. It was bold, but there was no way I was letting our amazing night end up awkward. There was nothing worse than ending on a bad note because of lack of communication.
He picked up.
“Hey.” He was in a dark room, in what I'm assuming was his bed, shirtless.
Holy fuck he was shirtless in front of me. Sure, I had seen lots of photos of him without a shirt, but this was different. He was showing his skin to me, only me.
“Hey.” It was awkward, and frankly unfair, that he was so gorgeous and I couldn't physically touch him.
He didn't say anything.
“What's on your mind? I can tell something is bothering you. Was my sarcastic response not what you needed? My lip is fine.” I stuck it out and placed it to the camera, distorting it.
He chuckled at that, but still looked too nervous to say anything.
I just stayed quiet, smiling at him. Well, eye fucking him again because I couldn't help myself, until he felt comfortable saying anything. He rubbed his shoulder for a while and scratched at his beard and then he cleared his throat.
“I panicked.”
“About my lip?”
He nodded his head. “Our first fucking date and I'm sending you home with a swollen lip.
I know how people see me. A brute, a goon, some stupid guy only good for blood on the ice and that's fine if they want to perceive me that way even when I'm not.
But you, I don't want you to think of me that way.
I don't want you to fear being around me–”
“I'm going to interrupt you right there if that is OK.”
He nodded his head.
“Instead of worrying about my feelings why don't I just tell you how I feel about it all.”
Sasha's eyes opened really wide. “You're going to tell me?”
“Yeah, Sasha, I'm thirty-two years old. I don't play coy. I don't do bullshit. Whatever we are right now just know this, I'm just going to be honest no matter how shitty it may be.”
His head started to nod slowly and damn him, he relaxed and the camera dipped lower to the small trail of sandy blond hair that covered his chest and abs.
“OK.” He whispered.
“OK.” I started. “So, when I met you I thought you were hot, obviously. Then when we started talking, I thought you were great and fun and kind. And I never thought I would ever see you again. So, what did I do? I looked you up on the internet. I saw all the slams and all the blood and all the anger in your face.”
His eyes darted to the ceiling like this was the moment he was dreading. His worst nightmare.
“But I also realized that is your job and it became pretty clear that while you were a bruiser, you're not a dirty hockey player. You have a moral code that you don't cross and I find that very sexy.”
“Yeah?” He smiled and got closer to the camera.
“I'm not done.”
“Sorry.” He leaned back, sheepishly.
“But you want to know what really cemented what I already expected of you?”
“Desperately, my stomach is in knots over here.”
“When I was on the dance floor tonight. Sure, you could have swooped me into your arms and pummeled that guy for moving in. Even though I wasn't dancing with anyone, so he technically wasn't in the wrong.”
“I was about to.”
“I know, but you didn't. Because I held up my hand.
I didn't have to say a word but you knew what I wanted and you did it.
No matter how foreign it felt for you to let me take care of it, you did.
Now that was fucking hot. That is how I think of you and why I don't worry for a moment when I'm in your arms.”
I surprised myself with that last line. I was thinking out loud a little too much. I must have been blushing because my face felt hot as I turned from the camera, waiting for him to speak.
“I wish you stayed.”
The son of a bitch turned onto his side, his arm propped under his head, sleepy eyed and gazing at me like he was in love. I ached for him and the way I knew he would feel inside me, how he would feel around me.
“Well, some of us don't make seven million a year and have to get to work in the morning.”
He chuckled, but I could see sleep pulling at his eyes.
“You're never going to let me live that down, huh?”
“I'll let you buy me ice cream.”
“It's a date.” He yawned and covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry.”
“OK, OK, I know I'm boring. Get some sleep. I'm pretty much home anyway.”
“Text me when you're inside. Not just close to home. Inside the house.” He pointed his finger at me like it was remotely threatening.
“Yes, Sarge.”
I ended the call and held the phone to my chest. It was pounding uncontrollably. My neck flushed. My knees knocked. I was in heat for the hot hockey guy.
◆◆◆
Sasha: How did your table pick up go?
Me: He loved it so much I also got roses.
Sasha: I have competition?
Me: You better watch it. He is 82 and spry.
Sasha: I can't compete with that Social Security
Me: And he just got a new hip
Sasha: Naughty
Me: You like it
Sasha: It makes this away trip harder
Me: Landed in sunny Florida?
Sasha: More like sweltering
Me: When do you get back?
Sasha: Wednesday, miss me already?
Me: No comment
Sasha: Date number two on Wednesday?
Me: Miss me already?
Sasha: Yes
Me: I can't do Wednesday, I have a Doctors appointment and it is Paulie's first game.
Sasha: Everything OK with the Doctor?
Me: Just womanly things. TMI sorry
Sasha: Don't be sorry about that stuff, I give women so much credit for going through that every month. Friday then?
Me: It's a date
◆◆◆
Me: Good luck tonight! Break a leg? But don't break anyone's legs.
Sasha: Are you going to watch?
Me: I might have a pizza party planned with Paulie to watch your game. He might be mildly obsessed with you now.
Sasha: He is obsessed with me? Not you?
Me: You're growing on me
Sasha: I'll have to try harder
Me: Maybe you could wear a shirt that says “Lucy's bitch” every once in a while. That would do a lot for me.
Sasha: I'll get right on that Lucifer
Me: (Devil Emoji)
◆◆◆
“Come on Lulu it's about to start!” Paulie couldn't contain his excitement.
It was the first home game we were going to watch together. We planned pizza and wings and I even bought him a bottle of soda when my sister told me not to. I made chocolate chip cookies and brought blue and red disposable plates to be extra fancy.
Paulie and I both wore our Puck jerseys that the Sarge gave us. I wasn't about to wear my dad's and get sauce on it. The excitement hanged in the living room like a charged fog. We were hyped to see Sasha on the ice.
I tried to mask my fear from Paulie so I whooped and cheered as best I could.
But there still was that lingering reminder of my father every time I saw hockey.
My sister and mother never understood why I could stop watching the game that gave me so much joy.
But they weren't there when it happened, on the cold ice, my father clutching his hockey stick.
They weren't the ones who had their faces put on the front page of the newspaper. They didn't have to see it all.
Hockey broke my heart and it had been that way for fifteen years.
So, to see a man I'm crushing on step foot on the ice, well, it was a lot to take in.
I couldn't say it was all bad, but I couldn't say it was all good.
Flashes of my father distracted me. The sound of blades against the ice cut me.
There were no screaming kids or date anticipation to distract me.
It was just my feelings and myself and it was hard.
“Oh! He's gonna kill him!” Paulie jumped in front of the TV, his voice pulling me from my daydream.
“Get him! Get him!” Paulie shouted as Sasha threw his gloves to the ground.
I didn't hide my eyes. This was his job, to keep the game respectful.
“Come on! Come on!” Paulie shouted again.
I watched as Sasha and the other guy linked up. Sasha grabbed his jersey, keeping the hockey player close to him. But the other guy's helmet was still on, so were his gloves.
I couldn't breathe. This was the line. The other guy didn't want a fight. He didn't drop his gloves after the dirty hit. He knew he was wrong. But would Sasha be able to not hit him?
“I wish he was mic'd up.” Paulie sat back on his heels as the two players spun on the ice.
I could tell what Sasha was saying. I could read the expletives on his lips like they were my words.
“You play fucking dirty and I'll show you how good it feels.” He said it over and over again.
I got wet at the sight of him. In control, but completely wild.
I wanted him to show me how good it feels. I wanted it so badly.
◆◆◆
Me: Good game! I was screaming for you!
Sasha: Don't say things like that
Me: LOL I didn't mean it like that!
Sasha: Sure you didn't
Me: ANYWAY, you played great, very respectful
Sasha: That guy is a weasel. He plays dirty and then won't even fight.
Me: You gave him a few good ones into the boards, I'm sure he learned his lesson.
Sasha: I did what I could
Me: Excited to go home tomorrow?
Sasha: Excited to see you
Me: You are all jazzed up right now after the game, aren't you?
Sasha: Yes
Me: No puck bunnies around to help you out? I always thought it might be in a teams best interest to have bunnies on the payroll. You know, to keep down on all the illegitimate children.
Sasha: Not a bad idea
Me: Do you have any kids? I probably should have asked you this before
Sasha: No, do you?
Me: Nope.
Sasha: What time does Paulie's game start tomorrow?
Me: 630
Sasha: Tell him I say good luck.
Me: I will.
Sasha: Can I ask you a weird question?
Me: Now I'm terrified
Sasha: Can you send me a picture of you?
Me: Clothed?
Sasha: Do I have an option?
Me: No
Sasha: Then yes, clothed.
Me: Sent 1 attachment
Sasha: Are you wearing the Jersey I gave you?
Me: Of course, it's game day.
Sasha: Sweet Jesus
Me: Goodnight, Sasha
Sasha: Good luck with your appointment tomorrow
◆◆◆
“Way to barely make it, Lucy.” Sarah rolled her eyes at me. “Paulie was stressed that you wouldn't be here for his first game.”
“Sorry. I tried my best. I spilled poly all over my pants and I had to get an ultra sound after my doctors appointment.” I pulled my hair up in a messy bun, feeling the stiff part where polyurethane must have dried in it.
“Is everything OK? Are you wearing sweatpants in public?” She gave me a once over in disgust.
“I told you I ruined my pants and these were what I had in the car. It's fine, everyone wears sweatpants in public now.”
“Teenagers, teenagers wear sweatpants. Why did you need an ultrasound?” She shoved a peanut butter sandwich in my hand that I gladly bit into, my stomach growling for anything.
“I might have a fibroid. Which would explain the spotting.” Peanut butter got stuck to my mouth. “Did you put the entire jar on this sandwich, Sarah?”
“Everyone has fibroids. I don't care if you're full of them. Don't cut it so close next time got it?”
“Got it.”
“There he is!” Sarah burst into screams and applause and this weird whistle she does.
I stood up and waved to make sure Paulie knew I was there. We made eye contact and all was right with the world.