Page 60 of Off The Ice
“I honestly don’t care either way,” I said, and when she opened her mouth to protest like I knew she would, I shushed her with my next words. “I promise.”
“Fine.” She relaxed, “Well, if you really want to know, my favorite pizza is mushrooms, black olives, and extra cheese.”
“Then, we’ll get exactly that,” I said, taking our menus and putting them back in their spot. “I figured you should get the advantage of having a pizza you actuallylike,considering all your talk about how you’re going to outeat me.”
The waitress came back before whatever words were on the tip of Cassie’s tongue could tumble out, and I almost regretted that I didn’t get to hear what she would’ve said.
The waitress took our order and scurried off to the kitchen, leaving us alone in a mostly empty restaurant. It was quiet, not in a bad way, but rather the type of silence that made me breathe easily for a bit. It wasn’t the dead quiet of my apartment that I used to think was the perfect escape, and it wasn’t the overwhelming roar of fans screaming my name in the arena.
It was a reprieve from it all. And I had the feeling it wouldn’t be that way if it were anyone else in the world sitting across from me.
The blonde in question had shed her winter attire and was currently tugging on the sleeves of her floral sweater.
She looked cute in her normal clothes. They suited her personality much better than the dark, black outfits my sister had styled her in the last few times when Cassie’s clothes had been in limbo at Dave the Dick’s house.
Should I ask how she’s doing about it all? Should I avoid the topic? Would it be more insensitive of me to bring it up or, worse, to ignore it?
Shit, maybe I really didn’t know how to talk to girls.
I felt like I was on a first date, nervous to say the wrong thing, nervous that I’d screw it all up before I even got a chance to know her.
I had to force myself not to shake my head to get the thoughts away because it absolutely wasnota date. Just two friends eating pizza before going home together.
Fuck.
“How’s your hockey going?” she interrupted my inner anguish to ask.
“My hockey?” I laughed at her choice of wording. “It’s good.
“When’s your next game?” she asked. “I’d love to come to one and see you play! Maggie says you’re really good.”
I pictured her sitting in the stands, watching me, and the idea of it filled me with warmth. I cleared my throat, annoyed with how idiotic I was being tonight.
Maybe Ididneed a girlfriend because, apparently, I was projecting all my fantasies onto Cassie, which I was sure she wouldn’t take kindly to.
“The season hasn’t started yet.” I smiled.
“It hasn’t?” She looked surprised. “But you’re gone all the time!”
“Training,” I answered. “You live in Boston, and you don’t know when hockey season is?”
“I already told you I’m not much of a sports person.”
“But you still want to come see me play?” I asked, a feeling blooming in my chest. “Why?”
“Well, because it’s you,” she answered in a way that made me want to beg her to elaborate.
“How’s your school going?” I phrased it the same way she had.
Her eyes brightened as she dove into an explanation of how cute her class was this year, how much progress they’d made in the first few weeks, and how proud she was of them already.
“I mean,” she said animatedly, “At the start of the year, they couldn’t even walk in a straight line! Now they’re doing it with verbal cues only!”
“That’s… great?” I offered.
“It is!” Her eyes shone. “So, yeah. The kids are great. The school is great. It’s just that some of my coworkersreallydon’t seem like they like me.”
“Why?” I asked, wondering how it was possible someone could spend five minutes with the girl in front of me andnotlike her.
