Chapter Twenty
Will
I’m nervous. Stupidly nervous. I know I shouldn’t be, but I want today to go perfectly.
I want Kennedy to know that I like her for a lot more than just sex.
Don't get me wrong, sex is amazing, one of my favorite things ever, but I want her to know I want her to be my girlfriend, not my long term fuck buddy.
I’m pretty much ready to just start telling people she is my girlfriend. Not being able to kiss her, or put her on my lap, or hold her hand whenever I want is starting to feel pointless. I want to be able to talk about her to the guys when we’re discussing weekend plans or parties.
I get that she doesn’t want Miranda to know yet, but why?
I don’t see what the big deal is here. It's not like I banned Miranda from ever dating my friends.
In fact, I have some friends who I'd be happy if they dated my sister.
Miranda avoiding hockey players at all costs is somehting she came up with on her own.
I'm not complaining, I's much prefer not having to navigate my sister dating my teammate, but at the same time, I don't care nearly as much as she does.
I go over my itinerary in my head one more time, double checking that I have everything I need for today. Adrian is sitting on the living room couch in just his boxers, eating a bowl of cereal when I walk out. “Where’re you headed?”
I rummage around the kitchen, opening a tub of protein powder. “I have a date,” I say, scoping protein into a shaker bottle.
“With Kennedy?”
I shake up my protein shake, debating on how to answer this question. Not because I care if Adrian knows, but because we haven’t talked about telling other people and I want to respect Kennedy. “No.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
I take a huge gulp of my protein shake before answering. “Okay, yeah, whatever. I’m going on a date with Kennedy.” I try to sound nonchalant about it, but the back of my neck feels hot and there’s a rightness in my chest at the same time. It feels good to let it out, to tell someone.
He sets his empty bowl of cereal in the kitchen sink next to me before patting me on the back one time. “I fucking knew it. Have fun,” he says, winking at me, “Be safe.”
Adrian and I operate very differently when it comes to girls, so I know he’s being genuine. I slam the rest of my protein shake then make some scrambled eggs and toast–I need to have something in my stomach before this date.
I’m so nervous that I leave the flowers in the car and have to turn back half way up her stairs to go get them.
With flowers in hand, I knock on her door.
She opens her door looking absolutely stunning.
She’s wearing a light purple monochromatic set of workout clothes and a matching pullover.
Her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail on the crown of her head.
There’s a small tote bag in her hands with what looks like a green sweater folded up inside.
I don’t know what it is about the outfit, but I have to physically stop myself from open mouth staring at her.
I thrust the bouquet of flowers toward her, “These are for you.”
She takes them, inviting me in so she can put them in water.
I’ve come to realize that Kennedy usually has clothes tossed everywhere, and today is no different.
There are multiple pairs of pants and tops haphazardly strewn over her bed and loveseat.
I weirdly really like knowing that she tried on multiple outfits for me. Maybe she’s just as nervous as I am.
“You’re dressed perfectly, by the way,” I throw out there.
Some tension leaves her body. Her shoulders lower a little and her posture relaxes a bit.
“Thank God! I was really worried. I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m excited.
” She fills a vase with water and deposits the flowers inside, taking a few seconds to arrange them before pressing her lips to the underside of my jaw. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”
In my car, I can tell she’s nervous–she’s picking at the cuticles on her thumb, she keeps fidgeting with her feet, and rearranging her purse on her lap. I rest my hand on her thigh and she threads her fingers over mine, settling some of her fidgeting.
I pull into the parking lot behind an unassuming warehouse. “We’re here,” I announce, enjoying the look of confusion on her face. There are a lot more people here than I thought there would be. There's a whole ass security guy with a metal wand and a line to get in.
Because there are no obvious signs on the outside of the warehouse, and Kennedy still looks a little confused, I fish the tickets out of my pocket and hand them to her. I watch as her eyes scan the ticket, then the moment of realization that hits her with a huge gasp. “You did not!”
“Yes, I signed us up for mixed duos, is that okay?”
“Oh my god, Yes!” She clutches my forearm with both of her hands, excitedly squeezing, “I’ve never even heard of an air hockey tournament, how did you find out about this?”
“I wanted to take you to something you've never done before.” The back of my neck heats up when I admit the next part, “And I also wanted to mark two things off your list at once. It just said hockey, not ice hockey. So this counts right?”
She throws her arms around me, soothing the nervous part of myself that worried this was a bad idea.
The line moves fast, Something I’m thankful for, because the Michigan December cold is making my knee ache just a bit. We’re inside at the registration desk in under ten minutes. I was a little worried her nipple piercings would set off the metal detector but they didn’t.
“Team Name?” the registration lady asks, flipping through a binder of papers. I glance at Kennedy next to me, just a little embarrassed to say it out loud. She’s pulling her lips into her mouth, fighting a laugh.
“Old Man Eyes.”
“Alright,” she says, finding our team name and pulling out two waxy papers for us to safety pin to our backs. “Here ya go. And this is your bracket assignment. You’re at bay three. Start time is in,” she checks her watch, “26 minutes. Good luck.”
Kennedy and I both say our thanks before grabbing the materials and heading toward the giant open warehouse floor with 25 air hockey tables set up.
Luckily, off to the side is a merch booth selling air hockey mallets because I was going to use the ones I stole from Logan’s frat house.
The booth has all kinds of mallets, some nearly identical to ones I’ve seen in arcades and other advanced ones claiming speed and weight advantages.
Kennedy picks out the only pink one on display, a relatively cheap one, and I buy us both the pink one, because why the hell not, we’re a team, might as well have matching gear.
“Here, let me pin this on you.” Kennedy gives me her back as I pin Team: Old Man Eyes to her top. She does the same to me. We head to our air hockey table and unpack our new mallets while I give her some context.
“Okay so we’re playing an unsanctioned duos tournament. Technically, four people tables are not regulation, so unfortunately if we win today, it's just bragging rights. First team to seven points wins the match.”
She cartoonishly cracks her neck in both directions, then does a forward lunge, “I hope you brought your A game today, Taylor, because I’m ready to kick some ass.”
I’m just happy that we’re on the same team, because Kennedy is insanely competitive. Insanely. I’m not too proud to admit that she’s made me cry on exactly three occasions while playing Catan during 5th grade.
We introduce ourselves to the duo we are facing, an older couple, apparently the man, Dan used to be some air hockey big wig. The way he’s holding the mallet is making me worried that we are about to be the ones who gets our asses kicked.
Kennedy stands to my left giving me the right side of the table. Perfect, I’m already a right winger in hockey, this plays to my strengths.
The faceoff starts and we somehow gain possession of the puck with Kennedy launching it toward their goal. Dan blocks it, then does some crazy move that makes the puck go back and forth really fast before he strikes it back at us. I block the goal, Kennedy letting out a giant whoop next to me.
The game carries on like this for a few minutes before Dan whips the puck right into our goal.
“Looks like you might need some glasses for those old man eyes you got over there,” Dan smack talks with a smile.
Kennedy throws her head back, then composes herself with scary speed, narrowing her eyes at Dan and shaking her head.
Dan’s wife and I lock eyes and she just shrugs, her face saying, it’s kinda funny.
Dan and his wife absolutely obliterate us with 7-1. We fist bump and shake hands before moving on to the next round. There are only three guaranteed rounds for the duos, it's a less popular choice due to it not being regulation. After the third round, only the top four teams will move on.
We somehow win both of our following matches meaning that we progress onto the semi-finals.
I buy us both a gatorade from the vending machine as we wait for our next round.
A small crowd is gathered around Dan and his wife’s table as they battle another really good team.
So far Dan’s team is undefeated. I study Dan’s movements, cataloging where he aims the puck so I can try and emulate it during the next match.
I turn my head to point out how he’s standing to Kennedy, but she has her phone pulled up, watching a youtube video on air hockey techniques.
She goes on her tip toes and whispers in my ear, “We’re not doing the triangle method.
And we’re holding the mallet wrong.” She hands me her phone to watch the short 90 second video and she’s right.
The mallet technique Dan was using against us is what all the pros use.
I don’t mention the fact that Kennedy has been the one blocking the goal.