Page 62 of The Ex Puck Bunny
The only ice time I got was during practice. Ted is a bear out there and the guys work seamlessly. It’s almost an art form how they pass the puck to each other.
For a moment, I daydream about what it would look like to somehow attach a paint dispenser to the puck and see what kinds of lines its path would form. Would it create a shape? A message? Or just look like a kid went wild with a giant crayon?
Yeah, Derek is right. Sometimes I am in my own little world.
But I want my world to include Heidi and Bunny. We messaged a bit while I was out of town, but it’s hard to gauge whether she still wants to be my girlfriend or if she wants to let me down in person.
Hartleigh Nichols and I were as serious as two kids in high school could’ve been, and I had a few other girlfriends over the years who I really cared about. Then there was Alivia, but I have never felt like this.
Heidi is center ice in my mind. When I get a coffee, I wonder if she always drinks regular or if she gets seasonal specials. There are pumpkin spice lattes in the fall. Is there a spring equivalent? I bet she could make a fun viral video about hockey players and their beverage orders.
When I was in Wisconsin, I picked up souvenirs for Heidi, Bunny, and me. I got us matchingCurd Nerdcheese shirts. Then I worried about whether Heidi is allergic to cheese and racked my brain trying to recall the numerous meals I’d had at her family’s table. Did she ever have a special portion sans cheese? No, on taco night, she and Derek argued over whether the cheese goes first or last.
Then I really had to check my head when I saw a bachelorette party at the hotel and wondered what Heidi would look like in a gown. Whether she’d want a traditional wedding since her first one was the opposite or do something more intimate?
My eyes are tired and dry from travel. No other reason. My sugar levels are normal even though I feel jittery. It’s a combination of excitement and nerves because I’m meeting Heidi and Bunny at their morning playgroup at the park.
Surely, she wouldn’t dump me in public?
Then again, she’s a busy single mom, so Bunny would likely be occupied during the “It’s not you, it’s me,” conversation.
I skip putting in my contacts and slide on my glasses, then head over to the same playground Derek and I used to go to before we got too cool for it and realized we could roam around the cornfields and sneak to the woods. My mother didn’t care where I was. Mrs. Rice made sure he checked in every two hours.
Parking next to Heidi’s 4Runner, I prepare myself and make sure I don’t see Derek hiding in the bushes, ready to beat me down. Not that I did anything wrong. Not a thing. But if hissister’s heart is even at risk of being broken, even if she’s the one to end things, I’d expect him to take action—of the physical variety.
The talk with Derek went surprisingly well. I still have all my teeth. I confessed my feelings for Heidi. He put me in a headlock and gave me a “Noogie” with his knuckles on the top of my head and I promised not to break his sister’s heart.
I spot Heidi talking to another mom as they push their kids on the swings. I wave and walk over. Heidi goes still and the swing, on its return, nearly knocks into her.
Bunny calls, “Push, Mama!”
Her throat bobs when I get close.
Anxiety floods my mind, making my stomach swim. We moved too fast. She remembered she doesn’t want to date a hockey player—definitely not one of Derek’s friends after what happened with Trey.
Bunny squeals with delight when she sees me and tosses her hands in the air—she’s in one of those bucket-style swings and totters slightly. “Push me, up, up, up!” She points to the sky.
I round to the back of the swing as Heidi gives her one more push while staring at me. Like s-t-a-r-i-n-g. It’s intense, but not a glower or the daggers from the first day at the Fish Bowl, but there’s no mistaking that she’s acting a little off. My stomach trips.
Her eyes are wide as she continues to stare at me as I take over pushing the swing.
In a low voice she says, “This is next level. I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
Oh. Is this the deal breaker?
“Usually, I have contacts—” But before I finish my sentence, she lifts onto her toes and kisses me on the cheek. Her hands wrap around my neck and if we weren’t in public, I thinkthis would rapidly turn into a make-out session. My nerves disappear. So do my thoughts, my sense of place, the year. Heck, I don’t even know my name and it’s only a peck since this is a family setting.
She introduces me to the other moms as her boyfriend. Even though Bunny doesn’t know what that means, the kid adores me. The feeling is mutual and I haven’t had this much fun at the playground since . . . the last time we were here. Granted, all the children in attendance treat me like a human jungle gym when they realize that I’m all too happy to engage while the moms talk among themselves, with probably some much-needed adult interaction.
A little before lunch, everyone disperses, leaving Heidi, Bunny, and me to walk over to the Lunch Box, a sandwich shop on 4thSt.
Bunny is in her stroller and Heidi keeps stealing glances at me. She’s been acting funny and I start to fear the other shoe, er, skate is going to drop again.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice uneven with nerves.
“Yeah. Fine, why?” she asks breezily as if she’s keeping something from me.
“Just checking.”
