Page 73 of Between the Blue
“Hi,” I say, my tone an octave higher than normal.
And with my response, Ben continues past me and up the stairs to the weight room.
My mouth opens and closes as I stare after him. I shake my head, turning away and heading into the women’s locker room.
Ahiisn't much, but it’s more than I’ve ever gotten from Ben. I’ll decide to do what’s best and take it for the hint of a white flag that it is.
I don’t think any further on it as we complete our separate workouts without a word.
I don’t think any further later at practice that afternoon either.
Ben definitely avoided my eye contact and never intentionally came near me the entire time, staying out of my camera’s path as much as possible. But when he was heading back to the locker room and it was unavoidable, he walked right past me, shifting his eyes over to my face.
I gave him a tight smile, trying my best to wave a white flag of my own.
And I had to stop my jaw from coming unhinged when he gave me the slightest dip of his chin in response.
“Hi,” he muttered.
“Hi,” I said back.
And when I receive my thirdhithe following morning at the gym, I decide to push my luck.
When Ben goes to fill up his water bottle at the water fountain at the same point in his workout that he always does, I get in line behind him.
“Hi,” I say to him for the second time this morning.
Ben looks over his shoulder, raising his brows. “Hi?” he says, more like a question than a response.
I rock on my heels. “Big game tonight.”
Ben turns back to the water fountain, making some sort of grunting sound of agreement.
“Nervous?” I ask.
He turns around, maintaining my eye contact as he takes a sip of his water.
“Cherry, this is my tenth season in the NHL. And twenty-fifth year playing hockey.”
I swallow.
I know that it’s his tenth season. I remember that from my Google research. I also remember that he’s thirty. I do the mental math again, reminding myself that that means he’s been playing professionally since he was twenty. Since he was three years younger than I am now. And that he was a year younger than me when he became the captain of the team. And it seems so crazy all over again.
“So?” I shrug. “You can still get jitters over something no matter how many times you’ve done it.”
“Jitters?” he repeats, his brows knitting.
I nod.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have any of those.” He moves around me, heading for a leg press machine.
I spin on my heel. “Can I ask you a question?”
Ben adds two forty-five pound plates to each side of the machine. “Go ahead.”
I pull back, surprised by his answer. “Okay.” I cross my arms. “Why do you come here? To the gym? I wouldn’t think you’d need to with…you know…what you do. Why go to a public gym early every morning?”
He settles down in the seat of the machine, looking up at me for a moment. Then he slips his headphones back on his head and pulls the lever on the machine, starting his set.
