Page 29 of The Cutting Edge
"Why did you keep it a secret? "
"Duh. I thought it would be more romantic if it was a surprise. Logan seemed like he was really putting a lot of effort into the dinner, and I wanted to help him make it special for you. You're so sweet to everyone else, and you always take care of all the people around you, I thought it was about time somebody was sweet to you for a change."
"Aw,” I say dramatically. “Uh, more likely, he's probably just feeling guilty because he bashed me in the head with a hockey puck."
“Obviously, he feels terrible. But that is not the vibe I got from him at all. I may be wrong, and I think we both know I never am, but I think Logan Rivers may be smitten with you.” She puts her hands under her chin and rolls her eyes back as she says in a high-pitched voice meant to torture me, "My name is Logan Rivers and I'm a famous hockey star and I am madly in love with Coco, and I want to kiss her all over her beautiful face, and marry her, and buy a house with a white picket fence, and have lots and lots of mind-blowing sex in the formal dining room.”
“Smitten? I don’t think so.”
“Exhibit A,” She says, pointing in the direction of the flowers. "Exhibit B, highly expensive lobster dinner. Exhibit C, the lovey-dovey googly eyes he made when he tracked me down in my office before work, just so he could ask me about your favorite foods. Your honor, I rest my case.”
“Maybe he’s just being nice to me so I won't sue him for the puck."
"Maybe, but that is not the impression I got from him at all. As I said, that man is smitten."
The thought of that thrills me more than I should let it, but it seems unlikely. Logan apparently dates models and puck bunnies, and according to the Internet, usually not more than once.
"He sent flowers and brought lobster, So my ride with the charming lady killer Logan Rivers it's probably coming to a close soon."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," says Marissa. "Hey, he's playing tonight. Do you want to watch?"
“I guess. Do you even like hockey?"
"You mean the game itself… team rankings, and strategy and all that stuff? I could care less. But a bunch of hot guys with beards in the best shape of their lives skating around, and fighting over that little puck, and beating the crap out of each other? Sexy AF. Sign me up, please.”
I turn on the TV using the remote that is tethered to my hospital bed. There are still 10 or 15 minutes before the game is about to start, but the announcers are talking about the St. Pete Slashers’ chances in a matchup against the powerhouse Washington Capitals, and how team captain Logan Rivers has been struggling to score over the last few weeks.
“That's funny, "says Marissa. "You wouldn't look at the guy and think he has any trouble scoring at all."
"You're hilarious. And you're right," I say grinning mischievously, "I've seen his moves up close and he shouldn't have any problems scoring.”
Her eyes go wide, "Shut up! Did you? Right here in the hospital room? Oh my God!"
"Nothing happened!" I say, unable to stop myself from smiling.
"Confess!" she chides me.
"Fine. He kissed me. It was kind of perfect."
She squeals like a 12-year-old at a slumber party. "I knew it! How was it? I think this can go one of two ways. Extraordinarily great-looking guys are either phenomenal at sex because they have so much of it, or terrible because they don't really have to put in much effort. Which is it?"
"I have no idea, "I say, "but if I had to make a judgment call based on the first kiss…"
“You absolutely do...,” says Marissa as she leans forward eagerly.
“I’d have to say he probably falls into the practice-makes-perfect camp.
“I knew it!” she squeals again.
“Everything okay in here?" Nurse Barb peaks her head in the doorway.
"It's all good, Barb, thank you. We'll try to keep it down."
"Oh! It looks like your Prince Charming is about to take the ice. It must be so exciting to date an NHL player."
"Right!" Marissa nods enthusiastically. "So exciting!"
“Well, "says Barb, "let Logan know that everybody at the nurses’ station is cheering for him."
