10
Conor
I was an ass last night. I knew it when I had asked Sasha to leave that I was being unfair.
The problem was, if she’d stayed, I would have made things a whole lot worse.
I should call her. No, I need to call her.
I need to apologize to her. But after practically throwing her out of my apartment, I don’t know if she’ll even answer the call.
She made these rules for a reason and within twenty-four hours, we almost broke one of them. I get why she said that it can never happen, but it still stung like a bitch. It wasn’t the alcohol that made me want to kiss her but I was stupid enough to think she wanted to kiss me too.
I’m just a love sick fool who’s had a crush on this girl since we first met.
Had I hoped coming into this that maybe it would lead to more?
Sure. But Sasha’s only in this for one thing and I need to remember that.
I can’t push it. Not with the way my mind works.
I’ll end up over thinking every smile and obsessing over every touch until I inevitably do or say something really fucking stupid.
Practice usually clears my head but today, it hasn’t worked. Normally, I would go to Cap when I have too much in my head, but I can’t. Not with this. He’ll just tell me to end it before it gets worse, and I know I probably should, but for some stupid reason, I don’t want to.
When I get into my truck, I pull Sasha’s name up on my phone and hit call. It rings for what feels like a lifetime before it goes to voicemail. How have I fucked this up already?
The familiar roar of the engine soothes the ache in my chest a little. I shift the car into drive, ready to get home and shower off my shame from how I treated Sash last night but a message coming through my phone has me pausing. I shift back into neutral before checking it.
Angel: Sorry I’m at work. Can’t answer right now
or my boss will have my ass.
Relief floods my chest. Thank God. I was fully expecting her to say ‘We’re done’.
Impulsivity has been one of my biggest challenges having ADHD.
I’ve been impulsive since I was a kid and it’s one thing that has never changed.
I sometimes think it’s gotten worse the older I’ve got.
When I see something I want, I have to have it right then and there and if I can't get it, I'll obsess over it until I do. Which is exactly what’s happening right now.
Me: Go out with me tonight?
Angel: Where?
Me: Anywhere you want.
Angel: Can we go back to that Italian place?
Me: I’ll pick you up at 6:30pm.
Angel: See you then.
A huge grin splits across my face. “Yes!” I fist pump the air as if I’ve just scored the winning goal. Anyone walking past right now will think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
I can’t believe she agreed to it. I was so sure I fucked it all up.
I was up most of the night, just staring at the ceiling, thinking about what happened, wondering if I should call her, or go to her place but then slapped myself because that was a stupid idea.
I just need to apologize and we’ll go back to being a happy couple.
The second I knock on Sasha’s door it swings open, like she was standing there waiting for me.
My mouth goes dry as I take her in and every coherent thought leaves my head. Fuck me, she’s beautiful. No, that doesn’t even come close. Beautiful is too ordinary a word for whatever the hell she’s doing to me.
She’s wearing a baby blue dress that’s fitted on the top and flows at the bottom. Her white heels give her an extra inch or two and make her smooth, toned legs look even more delicious.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to drop to my knees more in my life.
“Hi.” She says quietly as I continue to drink her in. Her cheeks are tinged pink and she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. I want to take that lip between mine and soothe the ache she must be causing.
When my eyes meet her chocolate brown ones, I realize I’ve been standing here for about two minutes just staring at her.
I clear my throat before speaking, hoping it’ll stop my voice from coming out as wrecked as I feel.
“You look…” I can’t finish that sentence because how am I supposed to put this into words?
She’s gorgeous, stunning, intoxicating, everything in between and so much more.
The blush on her cheeks deepens and she ducks her head for a second before looking back at me.
The Sasha I met was sassy and feisty. She had no filter, like me, saying whatever thought came into her head and had no trouble telling me where to shove my opinions. She never hesitated, never second guessed herself.
This Sasha is different. She’s quiet, shy, and nervous. I’m not sure which one is the real her. Maybe they both are. Maybe she’s only letting me see the softer side of her that she keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
“Can we go,” she asks with a teasing smile, “or do you want to keep staring at me for a while longer?”
A laugh escapes me. “Let’s go.”
After she locks her door, I reach for her hand without thinking. It disappears inside mine. She glances down at our joined hands and for a second, I think she might pull away. Instead, her fingers curl around mine and I feel something warm flow through my chest.
We barely speak as we walk to the restaurant, which isn’t like me at all. Normally I’d be filling every silence with whatever ridiculous thought wandered into my brain. It’s one of my many flaws. If there’s empty space, I have to fill it.
But with Sasha… the silence doesn't feel empty. It feels comfortable. Peaceful. It’s weird spending your whole life unable to switch your brain off, only to discover one person who somehow quietens all the noise without even trying.
People stare as we walk through the restaurant doors, just like they did when we were shopping a few weeks ago. I’m used to the feeling of being watched. I’m used to cameras clicking in my direction or hearing my name being whispered around me.
But Sasha is uncomfortable with it all. This is all new to her. Her whole body is tense and rigid and if I didn’t have a strong hold on her hand, I’m sure she would have bolted by now.
I was only nineteen when I started getting recognized, but I loved it. Having everyone’s attention on me was something I craved. It filled a hole I’d been carrying around since I was a kid. My old therapist said I spent years chasing the validation that others never gave me. He was probably right.
“Is this officially our spot now?” I ask Sasha as she studies the menu.
She beams up at me, her eyes twinkling in the golden lights of the restaurant. “Yeah, I think it is.”
Something about those words makes my chest feel lighter. Our spot. Our place. I could get used to hearing that.
Once we’ve ordered, curiosity gets the better of me. “Tell me about your brother.” She briefly mentioned him the first time we were here but didn’t go into too much detail. Now, I can’t help but want to know everything about her life.
She smiles to herself and her eyes look far away as if she’s been whisked off to a life with her brother.
“Well, I was sixteen when he was born.” She starts, and my eyebrows shoot up.
“It wasn’t planned. A later in life surprise for my parents.
” She swirls her wine around the glass before taking a sip.
“My parents are great. They always have been, but my mom was forty-two when she had Liam and couldn’t keep up with a hyperactive toddler anymore.
” Her gaze drifts over my shoulder before she speaks again.
“Sometimes it seemed as though I was more of a mom to him than our actual mom.”
I reach across the table and take her soft hand in mine. “That must have been hard.”
“It was.” She nods, “I had school and a job. I was getting ready to go off to college.” She smiles softly, “But I wouldn’t change any of it.”
“How come?”
“Because of how much we bonded.” She says and her face lights up with a breathtaking smile. “Now I get to be the cool big sister.” Her smile falters a little and she tries to hide it but I notice it. I always do when it comes to her.
I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She fiddles with a napkin, something she does when something’s bothering her.
“I don't know.” She sighs, not meeting my eye. “Sometimes, I feel guilty for living so far away from him.” There’s a sadness behind her smile now.
“Liam was diagnosed with ADHD when he was eight.” Every muscle in my body locks.
Thank God Sasha is looking at the table instead of me right now.
“It’s been tough for him, you know.” Yeah, I definitely know.
“I don’t think my parents understand it like I do and that just makes it harder on him.
They don’t have the patience to deal with him like I do. ”
“What’s he like?”
She laughs to herself again. “Chaotic. Crazy. Mental. Take your pick.” That earns her a smile from me.
“But he’s also the sweetest boy you will ever meet.
He’s incredibly smart but unfortunately doesn’t do well in school.
” She shrugs. “I’m not sure how much you know about it, but kids with ADHD tend to struggle in school because they can’t focus or have bad time management for homework tasks. Things like that.”
Yeah, I know. Every word she says lands somewhere deep inside me. School was hell for me. I got in trouble a lot for being disruptive. I lost focus way too easily and when I didn’t lose focus, there was always too much going on in my brain to actually take in what the teacher was saying.
Looking back at it now, it was probably the most difficult time in my life. I would have loved to go to college, for what, I don’t know, but I never had the courage to actually do it. But then hockey came along and changed everything. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
But still… Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if someone had understood me sooner. If I had a big sister like Sasha, would I have been able to handle it all better?
“Is he on medication?” Sasha looks surprised by my question, but quickly schools her features.
“No. My parents worked hard enough to get us by, but we couldn't afford the luxury things like holidays, takeout every week, or expensive gifts.
Which also means we couldn't afford the medications that he needed.
My parents looked at it as ‘if he can cope without it, then we're not wasting the money on it’.” She shakes her head slightly, clearly in disagreement with them.
“Even with the insurance, it was just too much money.”
“Let me help.” I offer.
Her head snaps up in my direction. “What? No.” She replies looking flustered. “Thank you for the offer but I can’t accept that.”
“Sash, I want to help.” I’ve spent years trying to pay for treatments for kids whose families couldn’t afford it, trying to give those kids a better life than I had.
Most of the time, people said no. I never understood why though.
If I can help, why wouldn’t I? If I could individually pay for every single kid's medication, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat.
“Thank you, Conor, but no.”
Our food arrives before I can argue any further. I’ll let it go, for now. “Tell me about college. Where did you go? What did you study?”
Sasha’s eyes roll to the back of her head and she hums around a mouthful of spaghetti. This woman is dangerous. If she looks and sounds like this now, what would she be like if I got her into bed? Fuck me. That would be a dream.
My cock stiffens painfully in my jeans at the image of her in my head, laying naked on my bed, hair spread out across my pillows, perfect tits on full display, eyes rolling back in pleasure, soft moans floating past her lips as I push into her.
Sasha’s voice pulls me out of the delicious thoughts I seemed to get lost in. “I went to NYU.” Impressive. “I studied English and Literature.” That sounds… boring as hell. “I’ve always wanted to write since I was a kid. I thought that would sort of open the gateway to that world.”
I shift in my seat, trying to ease the ache in my balls without making it obvious. “And it didn’t?”
“I don’t know. I got my receptionist job as soon as I left college and haven’t thought about it since.”
She has thought about it. She probably thinks about it every day that she’s at the office or every time she opens her laptop. I can tell by the way her smile drops slightly at one side and her eyes lose a little bit of their shine, that she thinks about it. It’s subtle, but I notice.
“I know why you aren’t writing now, but why didn’t you give writing a go when you left college?”
She hesitates for a moment, but then speaks.
“I was going to. My dream was to leave college and start writing, but Max and I had found an apartment that we loved and me spending all my time writing instead of making real money just wasn’t going to work for our plans.
” Something tells me that this wasn’t a mutual decision but Max’s.
If Sash was my girl, I’d do anything to make sure her dream came true.
If I had to get two jobs to pay off a new apartment, or get a shitty apartment just to make that happen, then so be it.
This woman deserves everything and more and she deserves it to be handed to her on a silver platter.
“And now?” I ask, “Why don’t you write now?”
“It’s been a long time since I went to college. I think I've lost the confidence to just do it.” I get that. It’s like showing the whole world who you are, opening yourself up for criticism of other people and that’s a scary thing to go through. I’ve lived it more times than I ever wanted to.