Page 8 of The Import Slot
“I can’t say I’ve ever desired to understand the offside rule in football.”
“Ah, yes, you like hockey. Who do you support?”
Andy interrupts me as I say I’m an Ottawa Senators fan. He holds up a hand and answers a phone call. He motions with his thumb that he will take it toward the door, scraping his chair loudly as he gets up. This date is a bust. I take my phone out to text Becca, but a deep Canadian voice drifts into my ears before I finish composing my message. I’d recognise that accent anywhere because it sounds like Johnny’s.
“Senators? I’m offended.” I glance up to see him standing next to my chair. He raises an eyebrow, mouth twisting in a beautiful smirk that sends a shiver down my spine. We exchange glances until we lock eyes. I can feel my heart pounding and try to catch my breath.
“I, yeah,” I manage. I catch the stranger’s eyes again, deep green and a hint of something golden, and my mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous. How can anyone be that gorgeous?
“Sorry about that. Where were we?” My date slips back into his seat, and disappointment floods through me. I smile awkwardly, tracking the movements of the best shoulders I’ve ever seen as he sits at a table near the window. He scrolls on his phone, glancing up every few moments and catching my eye. I scream at myself to look away, but I can’t; there’s something about how he looks at me.
I don’t reply to Andy because he talks again, telling me about his mate from five-a-side.
“It’s just a beer league, really. We mess about, then a few of the boys with girlfriends have to ditch the night out. You could come if you wanted to?”
I’m only half listening because the object of my attention is now on the phone, and I’m trying desperately to hear more of his voice. It’s deep and smooth, and he chuckles at something the person on the other end of the phone says, and his laugh is something else. I want to hear him laugh again.
God, what is wrong with me? I’m crushing like a teenager.
I risk another glance, and to my horror he’s looking right at me, his eyes locked onto mine. I give him a quick smile, hoping my face works properly, and he winks at me. Fuck, that’s hot. I want him to do that again.
“Jenna?” Andy is tapping the space on the table directly between us, trying to get my attention.
“Yeah?” I drain the last of my tea. This date clearly isn’t going anywhere. I can’t focus on Andy, and I’m not interested in anything he says, which isn’t like me. I can usually find something.
Nothing good will come of this date, and we are wasting each other’s time.
“Look, sorry to bail, but I need to get going,” I say. Standing up, my eyes dart back to the window seat. He’s still on the phone, looking straight at me.
“Great, no problem. It was lovely meeting you. I’ll text you.” He holds a hand toward me for me to shake, but I slip my coat on and grab my bag. I leave the coffee shop after one last glance toward the table in the window.
I fumble to push the door open, and sigh in relief at feeling the fresh air hit my face as I step onto the pavement. Taking my phone out of my bag to call Danny, I’m not surprised he doesn’t answer. I try Becca next, and she answers after two rings.
“Why are you calling? You should be on a date, right?”
“Long story, but it’s a no from me. Listen, has Danny mentioned this new import?” I ask Becca.
“Nah, I haven’t spoken to him. Why’d you ask?”
“No reason.” I try to remain casual, but she hears right through it.
“What do you know?”
“Nothing,” I say. It’s not a lie. I don’t know who that guy is, but I suspect him of being the new import.
“You sound different. Have you heard from Nathan?”
“No, he’s not been in touch. I thought he’d be on to me to sort my season ticket out by now.”
“Shit, Jen, have you not sorted it? I doubt there will be any allocation left. The season opener is soon, and I don’t want to sit next to Nathan and his lover-girl.”
“You’re right. There probably isn’t any allocation left. For fuck’s sake, what can I do? Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll fill you in later.” Just as I end the call, a message comes in from Nathan, which makes sense because why would he not message me to round off an already shit day?
Nathan:Have you sorted out your season ticket yet?
Giving it a swift ignore, I shove my phone back in my bag.
Ryan
