Page 16 of Heat It Up (Off the Ice)
“And immodest too.” I point left at the intersecting street, desperate to change the topic, hoping he hasn’t noticed my now flushed face. I don’t need to start thinking about how great his kisses are. I’m trying to forget them, not relive them. “This way.”
We turn down the street as Kyle says, “And let’s not forget that I know all kinds of useful facts about physics.”
“So you’re gonna get me all hot and bothered with your sexy physics talk?” My hands fly to my face.Oh God! I can’t believe I said that.
He gently removes my hands from my face. The grin on his face is the sun shining on a cold winter day. “Right now, there’s nothing I want more than to kiss you after that comment.” He leans down, his lips inches from mine. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t even think. All I can do is stand still as his breath caresses my face.
But just as I think he’s going to kiss me—and I’m not sure if I should let him or not—someone bumps into my side and sends me flying. Before I have to make an emergency crash landing on the sidewalk, and suffer from a serious case of road rash, I catch my footing and straighten at the same moment Kyle reaches out to grab my arm.
A homeless guy, who smells of alcohol and puke, sways on his feet and yells in Finnish at me. Kyle’s face darkens as he glares at the guy.
I snatch hold of Kyle’s hand and pull him away. “It’s not worth getting into a fight over. He’s so drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Kyle threads his hand with mine, preventing us from being separated again. Ian didn’t hold my hand very often, so this feels odd yet nice.
“We’re almost there.” I continue walking.
We cross the street and I inhale the briny smell of the Baltic Sea ahead of us. “There.” I point at the crowded pier where well over fifty booths are set up. Canopies of various colors keep the rain and sun off the merchandise. In the distance, a tall, majestic church stands proud, its green steeples reaching to the sky. Seagulls shriek overhead, looking for discarded food. “That’s the famous marketplace.”
A long historic building made of yellow and red bricks, and with tall white wooden doors, sits near the open market. I lead Kyle there first. Inside, the air is filled with an assortment of aromas, most notably the pungent smell of fresh fish. We wander down the aisle. On either side, booths beckon us, each one specializing in a different food item. Meats. Cheeses. Fish. Baked goods. Open-faced sandwiches. Desserts.
Kyle buys bread, Edam cheese, and thinly-sliced, processed reindeer meat, which I convinced him to try. We then walk outside and check out the other booths, which sell mainly fresh fruits, mushrooms, and vegetables. I buy peas, still in their pods, and tomatoes for Muumu. Kyle buys strawberries.
After we pick up sodas from one booth, we head to Esplanade Park, not far from the marketplace and sandwiched between two main roads. Historic buildings, several stories tall, line the street opposite the waterfront. A variety of specialty stores are located on the first floor of each building, with apartments and offices above them.
The giant greenish statue of Johan Ludwig Runeberg, a Finnish poet who is long since dead, stands proud in the park, on a stone pillar surrounded by flowers. We walk past, to the grassy space where kids are playing soccer, and find a quiet spot to sit. Kyle opens the container of strawberries. I bite into one and moan at the sweet taste. I eat another one and juice trickles down my chin. I moan again. God, these are good.
Kyle watches me, an odd expression on his face. He leans over and presses his lips where the juice dripped. I freeze, unsure what to do, but then he moves his mouth to mine and my brain screams at me to not let the kiss go further than this. I’ll regret it if I do.
My body is less willing to comply.
Kyle’s tongue traces along my lower lip.
“Sorry, babe, but sex with you was…boring.”
I pull away and duck my head, pretending to be fascinated with a blade of grass. I can feel Kyle’s gaze on me as he tries to puzzle me out.
“Do you have a boyfriend back home?” he asks.
I shake my head while examining another blade of grass. Anything to avoid looking at him.
“I had a boyfriend. He used to play collegiate football. I guess I’d suspected for a while that he was cheating on me whenever his team was away, but I was stupid and looked the other way, positive that since no one had mentioned it to me, I was just being paranoid.” I shrugged. “I know lame, huh? But I was in love with him and love makes you naïve.” Or maybe it just mademenaïve.
“One day my best friend wanted to go to a party because there was a guy she was interested in,” I continue. “I showed up at the party to find my boyfriend and a girl getting hot and heavy on the couch. I swore off boyfriends after that.” I wrap my arms around my bent knees, pulling them to my chest, guarding my heart. “As the therapist of my best friend’s mother would no doubt say, I have trust issues.”
“Not all guys cheat on their girlfriends.”
I give him a sad smile. “That’s right. Some wait till they’re married before they cheat. Just ask my mom.” A seagull lands on the grass and pecks at a piece of forgotten garbage. “My father cheated on her with a student in his class. His college-aged student who was obsessed with him.” ThinkFatal Attraction, minus the boiling bunny. “I found out about it when I showed up for classes one day during my sophomore year of high school, and a classmate took great delight in sharing the details with me and everyone else at school. I spent two months dealing with the aftermath.” The taunts worm their way back in, and I close my eyes, keeping him from seeing the pain. The pain that intensified when Ian cheated on me.
In my dad’s defense, he did try to end it with her after his better judgment finally kicked in. She wasn’t too impressed, having some wild delusion that he would leave his family for her. On the bright side, she didn’t try to kill my mom in the bathtub or blow us up or anything like that. But she did tell the faculty of International Law and Policy about his indiscretions. Dear old Dad lost his position and Mom dumped him.
So, yes, I have trust issues. Who wouldn’t after that? How can I trust the next guy isn’t going to demonstrate the same lack of better judgment that escaped both my father and Ian?
I open my eyes but I still can’t look at Kyle. “I’ve long since decided I’m cursed. But try telling that to my grandmother.” I finally look at him. “Do you think Joni would translate for me?”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the pity in his eyes.
“So you’ve written off guys completely?”
