Page 60 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

"Really?" she says, sounding disappointed.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about sex."

"It’s fine. I mean, if this is just a sex thing to you, then it’s just a sex thing. I thought maybe you’d want to hang out."

"Erica, it’s not a sex thing. Do you want to go to the Brooklyn Bridge?"

"Yes. I know at night you could get some really cool shots."

"Yeah, that would be really cool," I say.

"You want to meet me there?"

"No. How about we meet at your place, and then we’ll go together?"

"Oh, no, you don’t have to?—"

"I want to. I want to be a gentleman and pick you up."

"Oh my gosh, really?" She laughs. "You really don’t have to do that."

"I know I don’t have to, but maybe I want to."

"Cool," she says. "Oh, and guess what?"

"What?"

"I got some watercolor paint."

"You what?"

"Yeah, a watercolor travel set and a pad and some boards. I figured I’d bring them, and maybe we could paint the Brooklyn Bridge and... I figured it’d be fun."

My heart thuds for a few seconds.

"Wait. You like painting, right? And you gave it up. I figured, if we’re going to go see something cool, maybe we could paint. You could show me a thing or two. It’d be fun."

"That was really thoughtful of you."

"I try," she says, giggling. "So let me shower real quick, and I’ll see you in a bit."

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely."

I hang up the phone and walk to the mirror. I just stare at my reflection.

"Who are you?" I say, looking at myself. "Who do you want to be?"

I shake my head because I have no clue. I have no clue where I’m going or what I want to do. But I don’t feel depressed. In fact, I feel the lightest I have in the last couple of hours.

I look at my phone and tap my finger against the screen.Who are you, Erica? And why do you get me?

I’ve been so quick to give up the idea of painting again. And here she is, trying to bring that out of me. It’s thoughtful. Touching. And I realize, it’s perhaps one of the nicest, most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.

She doesn’t want anything from me. She doesn’t need anything from me. All she wants is to hang out and maybe get some tips. That really means something.

Oh, God, I’m falling for her.

I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair. Because the last thing I need in my life is to fall for someone like Erica Carrington—someone bright-eyed and bushy-tailed who wants the world. Because I’m not in a position to give her the world. I’m not even in a position to give her a city. I’m not even in a position to give her an apartment.