THIRTEEN
THANE
Coming out to the entire hockey world had been easier than planning a date.
The problem wasn't that I didn't know how to take someone on a date.
The problem was that I cared enough to spend twenty minutes standing in my kitchen that morning, wondering whether driving around looking at Christmas lights was a terrible idea. I cared enough to ask myself whether it was too simple, too boring, or too ridiculous for a twenty-one-year-old college student who probably had far more exciting options than spending an evening with a hockey player pushing thirty.
The fact that Kieran had already said yes should have made me feel better. Instead, it somehow made everything feel more important. A laugh escaped me as I stopped at a red light. This was absurd. I'd played in playoff games with more composure than I currently possessed.
Seattle rolled past outside the windshield in full Christmas glory. For the first time in years, I found myself actually noticing. Usually, December was games, practices, travel, recovery.Repeat. The holidays happened around me while I focused on the schedule.
This year felt different. The thought followed me all the way across the city. By the time I turned onto Kieran's street, I was smiling again.
His neighborhood wasn't fancy. His apartment suited him. Comfortable. Unpretentious. Real.
I parked at the curb and checked the time. I was fifteen minutes early. For reasons I couldn't explain, that felt preferable to sitting in my condo pretending I wasn't counting down the minutes.
The windshield wipers swept away a thin layer of rain.
Across the street, a couple of kids were decorating a snowman, while a man and woman, perhaps their parents, watched them.
The sight made me smile.
Then my attention shifted toward Kieran’s apartment, and my smile slowly disappeared. Kieran had stepped outside. For a second, all I could do was look at him. He wore a dark coat. Jeans. Hair that looked as though he'd spent several minutes trying to convince it to cooperate before eventually giving up.
The sight of him sent a familiar rush of warmth through me.
I hadn't imagined it.
The anticipation.
The excitement.
The ridiculous urge to see him again.
All of it returned the moment our eyes met through the windshield.
Kieran smiled.
And just like that, the rest of the kids, the grown-ups, everything disappeared. My eyes and my mind were focused on Kieran.
A few seconds later, the passenger door opened, and a rush of cold air slipped into the vehicle. He climbed inside, bringing the scent of winter with him, and shut the door behind him.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself."
His smile widened as he settled into the seat and reached automatically for the cup waiting in the holder beside him. "You brought hot chocolate."
"I remembered what happened the last time you had to choose a beverage."
Kieran laughed immediately. "One whiskey sour and suddenly I'm banned from making decisions?" His laughter filled the vehicle, warm and easy.
I pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic. Neither of us rushed to fill the silence. There was something comfortable about it, as though we'd already established that silence didn't have to be awkward.
But eventually we did talk. About his classes. My game. The fact that Seattle drivers somehow became worse during the holidays. The conversation wandered wherever it wanted to go, and somehow that felt better than anything I'd planned.
