"Noah, hi," she says, her voice small. "No, it's not."
I sit beside her, our shoulders almost touching. "What's got you looking like someone kicked your puppy?"
She lets out a humorless laugh. "I would be rocking an orange jumpsuit if someone kicked Oscar, not sitting on a bench feeling sorry for myself."
"Wait, who is Oscar?" I ask genuinely curious.
I see her eyes light up and it's refreshing. "He's my dog. I found him a trashcan behind my apartment one day. We've been inseparable since."
"I love dogs," I start. "What kind is he?"
She gives me a puzzled look accompanied by a laugh. "Uhm, half vagabond, half asshole?"
I can't help but laugh. "I'll be sure to google that, so I can get a face to go with the name."
She fishes around in her purse. "Here, I'll show you." She unlocks her phone and starts scrolling through her photos. She clicks on one and turns the phone my way.
"This here is sir Oscar, the couch grouch." She says with a smile while showing me a picture of a dog so ugly it's fucking cute, laid out on what must be her couch.
"I need more Oscar footage," I say. Secretly in hopes she shows me some photos that involve her in her natural habitat.
She doesn't disappoint. I'm graced with pictures of Olivia and Oscar at a craft brewery, Olivia and Oscar on a boat, and my all time favorite, Olivia and Oscar dressed up for Halloween. Oscar looks like a generic brand dalmatian and Olivia is in the tiniest black dress, and faux fur coat looking like Cruella deVille.
For a second, I have to will my own dick to "stay down boy."
"That's settled, I have to meet him." I say with a proud smile.
"You want to meet my hobo dog?" she says. A smile laced with vulnerability laces her face.
"Hell yeah, I'm jealous of the little fucker if he gets to spend all his time with you." I say.
"Ever the charmer, Noah Kane." She says with a smile.
"But seriously, all pups aside, what's got you so upset?" I ask, returning back to the sore subject.
"Just…. life I guess…" she supplies reluctantly.
"That sounds suspiciously vague," I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Come on, spill. You know I'm a great listener."
I see the way her shoulders slump. She's deflecting like a pro. I need to pivot. "How about I distract you with a story instead? Ever hear about my first game as a rookie?"
She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You mean the one where you scored the winning goal in overtime?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Nah, that was the highlight reel version. The real story's a bit more... chaotic."
Her curiosity piqued, she turns slightly to face me. "Alright, you've got my attention."
I lean back, letting the memories wash over me. "So, it's my first day in the locker room, right? Fresh-faced rookie, eager to prove myself. The vets decided it was the perfect time for a little 'initiation.'"
Olivia's eyes light up with interest. "Oh, this sounds promising."
"Oh, it was something alright," I say with a smirk. "They stripped me down to my boxers and duct-taped me to one of those wheeled laundry bins."
She gasps, hand flying to her mouth. "No fucking way!"
"Way," I confirm, grinning. "Then they rolled me out into the hallway, right in front of a tour group of junior high kids."
Olivia bursts into laughter, her earlier tension melting away. "That's horrible!"