Page 39 of Passing the Red Line
I could have done this in my garage where I have an air conditioner or even at my parents house, where it’s a lot cooler, but no, I decided to come to the park near the house to get a quick workout in. Days like today are when I should really think about my choices.
At least there aren’t a bunch of kids around right now, there usually is since it’s summer vacation and all that. But somehow I got lucky with only a few moms and kids over at the playground. Nobody around that will come and mess with my concentration.
I skate around the asphalt, losing myself in the music coming in through my ear buds, and shooting the pucks that I strategically placed throughout the small court.
I’ve been at it for about two hours and I should call it a day, but my concentration is on point and I want to get in as much work as I can.
For the next forty minutes or so, I’m so deep in the zone that I don’t notice that there is someone at the entrance of the court taking pictures of me with their camera. Most of the time, I would be bothered by people taking my picture without my permission, but given who it is, I’m more than okay with it.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, taking out my earbud and skating over to where the intruding photographer is standing.
Eliana gives me a shrug, not moving from her spot where she is leaning against the chain link fence. “About fifteen minutes. Quake practice ended early so I decided to come this way.”
Since our night together almost a month ago, Eliana and I have been spending a lot more time together. Both in bed and out of it. We definitely don’t hate each other as much as we did when we met. We don’t see or talk to each other every single day but there is still constant communication going on between us that definitely puts us in the more than friend and less than a couple category. Is that something we should talk about? Maybe but neither of us feel inclined to do so.
Last night she had texted me about possibly grabbing lunch today after she was done with her morning practice with the Quakes. I told her yes and this morning I sent her the address to the court so that she could meet me here.
“Why didn’t you interrupt me?” I say, wiping the sweat off my face with the shirt I took off when I got here and tucked into my shorts.
“I was told a long time ago that you don’t interrupt a hockey player while he’s in the zone. Besides, I was able to get some pictures you can use for your socials if you want.”
Her hockey player comment sticks to my brain. Is that something that she heard from her dad or someone else? She said that her dad was only a small part as to why she hates hockey players and I’ve come to learn that that hate sprinkles into the sport itself, but that’s all. She hasn’t voiced what or who is to blame for most of her hate for the game and its player.
Its comments like what she just said that make me want to ask, but I hold it in. She’ll tell me when and if she wants to.
I ignore the intruding comment and turn the conversation to her pictures.
“I don’t post on social media, but if you took the pictures then I’m willing to break my rule for you.”
“How sweet of you,” she says, sending an eye roll my way all while a smirk forms on her face. “You tagging me in a picture will make my career.”
Her being sarcastic is like music to my heart.
“Hey, I can get you places.”
She lets out a snort. “If I didn’t use my dad’s name to get to where I am, what makes you think I’m going to use yours?”
I give her a shrug. “You like me more.”
Another snort. “That’s debatable, but okay. Are you almost done? I’m hungry and the sandwich that I ate on the way is not cutting it.”
I nod. “Let me pack up and we can go.”
She gives me a smile and I go do what I have to do.
This has been our routine for the last few weeks. We meet somewhere, either my house, the gym, the Quakes practice facility or their stadium or somewhere random and go grab a bite to eat and then spend the rest of the day together either at my place or at her rental.
Ninety percent of the time it’s at my place because according to Eliana the beach and hearing the waves is calming to her. Because I feel the same way and the very reason I bought the house, I was more than okay about spending almost all of our time together there. Is she in the one place that I like to be alone? Sure, but having her there isn’t as bad as I had expected. It feels nice to share that house with someone that enjoys it as much as I do.
Never thought I would even think that but here we are. So much for me hating this woman. A part of me still wants to throw her in the ocean just to see what she will do. I’m an ass, I know.
The next five minutes are spent taking off my skates and picking up the pucks that are all over the court. After putting everything in my hockey bag including my gloves, and the sweat covered shirt I grab the net and my stick before heading back to where Eliana is still standing.
“Does this place have a shower?“ she asks, wrinkling her nose as I close the distance between us.
I shrug. “It’s got a two stall restroom that doesn’t get cleaned as often as it should. Why?”
She looks me up and down like I have a disease or something and completely missing the point. “Because I don’t know if I can sit through lunch with you smelling like that. You stink.”
