12. Octavia
OCTAVIA
She’d felt guilty not going to Nathan’s game. She knew how hard it was to get tickets to Toronto games and bet several people would have given up Christmas with their family to be able to sit in whatever seats Nathan had reserved for her.
Instead of going to the game she went out with colleagues.
First a tapas bar for drinks and a light dinner before eventually wandering into one of the trendier sports bars downtown.
She may not have been at the game, but she watched Nathan score three goals over the course of fifteen minutes.
Stared as he screamed toward the ice after the third like he was releasing every ounce of frustration he had in life into the frozen surface.
Amanda nudged her when he was interviewed after the game.
Hair damp with sweat, black spaces where his teeth should be while he grinned down at the reporter and then out to the audience, out to her.
He was annoyingly well-spoken, no ums or ahs dotting his answers.
He presented his thoughts and feelings in complete sentences void of the classic clichés you always heard from professional athletes.
When the reporter asked about the rumours plaguing the team, he dodged the question, saying he wouldn’t be discussing the personal life of anyone else.
When he was asked about his brother, he smiled and said he was a warrior and not even being hit by a bus would keep him down.
He was asked how he planned on celebrating and he said he planned to go home and have a long soak before getting ready for a ten day road trip the next night.
Ten days? Octavia looked down at the mediocre glass of white wine in front of her. She’d only finished half of it and it turned in her stomach.
“You alright?” her coworker Joe asked as she pushed the glass away from herself.
“Um, I don’t know, I’m not feeling great,” she said, already sliding off the stool and reaching for her jacket. “I think I’m going to take off and try to catch up on some sleep.”
Octavia ordered a car, but instead of putting her home address she found herself inputting Nathan’s. When she arrived at his building, she didn’t even know what to do next. He’d still be at the rink. He didn’t use the front entrance since he parked underground and went up from there.
She paced, her heels clicking as she walked back and forth. Her breath clouding in front of her in the cold January night.
“Miss?” She heard from behind her and stopped abruptly, turning to see a man in a black suit with a gold name tag standing at the door. “Are you waiting for Mr. Albertson?”
Was she waiting for Mr. Albertson? How the hell would he know?
“Yes?” she said. “Sorry, yes, I just didn’t tell him I was coming. I can—”
“Come on in, he said to bring you up.”
“What?” How the hell did he know she was here? “But how, I didn’t…”
The man smiled kindly at her. “He said if I ever saw a beautiful redhead outside his building looking like she couldn’t decide what to do, that I was to let her into his home.”
“So he’s insane? What if I’m not the redhead he meant?”
“You left the other night while I was here. He told me to watch out for you.”
“Is he even home yet?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know, we’ll find out though. I have a key, unless you’d be more comfortable out here?”
She shook her head and followed him into the building, grateful for the warm air in the lobby.
“Mr. Albertson had a good game tonight, were you there?” he asked as the elevator rose.
“No, unfortunately I had a work event.”
“Maybe you’ll be at the next one?”
Octavia made a noncommittal noise. She had no idea why she would be. She was here for one thing and one thing only. And that thing wasn’t a standing invitation to attend Nathan’s work events. He could find someone else to give his tickets to thank you very much.
Standing in Nathan’s home alone was odd.
The only lights were those shining in from the buildings around his condo, casting shadows across the room.
Should she turn on a light? Make herself comfortable maybe?
Perhaps she should continue standing in the entry playing with the ring on her thumb, looking at all the places she could go sit down rather than actually doing it.
She slid her boots off and padded across the hardwood to look down at the city below.
She could leave. Pretend she never came, but then how would that look?
It was weird enough to be here without him, it would be even stranger if she stayed here for ten minutes then left like a stalker.
And she was definitely not a stalker, he was the one who kept this going.
Texting her and giving her tickets to his game and asking questions about her life.
He wasn’t a friend, wasn’t a lover, he was just someone she got off with.
“I’m leaving,” she said into the darkness, but when she was halfway across the room, she heard a key slide into the lock. Panicking, she looked around, she wasn’t close to any furniture, she still had her coat on. What the hell did this look like?
She stood in the middle of the room, frozen as his hand appeared first, brushing the wall to flip the light on.
Then she watched as he stepped inside and around her boots, sliding his shiny brown shoes off.
He didn’t look up at her, showed no sign anything was different than how it was when he got home any other night.
Maybe he hadn’t actually seen her boots sitting there, or perhaps he was just accustomed to random women’s boots being in his entryway. Something tightened in her stomach at the thought. Jealousy.
Nathan hung his coat up and then walked right past her into his kitchen.
What the fuck? She looked down at her boots and then over her shoulder in time to see him open a bottle from the fridge.
She watched as he tipped it up and took a long pull before walking out of the kitchen, down the hall toward his bedroom. Was she supposed to follow him?
Octavia seriously considered leaving, just pulling her boots back on and walking right the hell out of there, but by the time she decided that’s what she was going to do she was halfway to his bedroom, the sound of a tub filling filtering out of his open door.
She stepped into his room and stopped dead.
Nathan stood there, his back facing her in just his dress pants, his shirt and socks thrown off to the side.
She was momentarily distracted by the branches of the tree tattoo on his back, moving as if real when his muscles flexed.
It wasn’t until he turned to toss his belt next to his shirt that she saw the massive bruise along his side and drew in a sharp breath.
“So you’ll watch me undress but won’t watch me play?”