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“I’ve never had a boyfriend and I’ve never… you know?” I dart my eyes around the coffeehouse, making sure I won’t be heard. “I’m a virgin.” I draw my lips into my mouth, my embarrassment quickly turns to humiliation.
Eventually, a gigantic smile shapes her lips. “I’m so proud of you for saving yourself.” She pulls me into a tight hug and then whispers in my ear. “If Ash Johansson pops your cherry, I guarantee he will rock your world, girly. And I want to hear all about it.”
I push her off me playfully. “Oh, my God. I wish I hadn’t told you now.” It’s not information I go around sharing. Although I don’t know what the hell I am stressing about. It’s not as if anything is going to happen. It’s wishful thinking on my part, and yet I’m stunned by how much I want it to happen. I have dreamed about him, even touched myself thinking about him. He makes me ache in places I’ve never ached before and all from our brief encounter a few weeks ago. He thrills me and every time he looks at me, my heart pounds in my chest, making it feel like a car hitting a rumble strip.
Throwing me a cheeky wink before she moves back behind the serving counter, she looks over her shoulder. “Maybe he’s a bear in the bedroom too.”
“Will you stop?” I cry playfully.
“Oh, Ash, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She mocks a fake orgasm in a high-pitched voice, and I make a dash for the staff room to hide my embarrassment, wanting nothing to do with the attention she’s sparking from the customers.
Slamming the door behind me, I lean against it and bring my hand up to my mouth to stifle my giggle.
I pull out my phone from my locker and plonk myself down on the wobbly chair, click open the web browser and quickly type his name into the search bar, grateful I can look him up before I see him again.
The search brings up hundreds of videos of him in training, during drills, interviews, stats, articles. Current headlines. It’s all there in black and white.
Johansson named number one player to get excited about this season.
Edmonton Eagles center, Ash Johansson, wins prestigious award as top player in NHL.
Older headlines record when he was drafted to the Eagles.
Ash ‘The Bear’ Johansson to make debut with Edmonton Eagles.
Ash Johansson to follow in his father’s footsteps.
Excitement builds as Ash Johansson arrives at Edmonton Eagles.
Ash Johansson is exactly what Kourtney said he is; a star.
I click on several photos. He doesn’t smile much for the press. A wicked laugh bubbles in my chest as I desperately try to think of ways to make him smile more.
I still can’t believe it; Ash Johansson is meeting me after work.
Sliding the wooden chair back, I push myself to my feet and catch a glimpse of myself in the small mirror on the staff room wall. Plain Lily, who likes nothing better than color coding her notebooks, making handmade celebration cards, organizing events, hiking at the weekends, and collecting old vinyl records rather than perfecting her makeup, reducing the size of her thigh gap, or visiting the salon every six weeks like clockwork… and that’s when realization hits; he still has my scarf.
He’s probably not interested in me after all. He just wants to return it to me.
Now that makes more sense.
“Never mind.” I shrug, pushing the chair back under the small table in the staff room, and straightening out my apron.
I’ve had my fair share of interest from guys in the past and never wanted it, but somehow, the attention I thought Ash was showing me gave me hope. It’s as if I craved it.
I didn’t want to admit it, but I secretly thought he might have been the one.
And that thought leaves me more disappointed than I've ever felt.
Perhaps I’m destined to stay a virgin forever.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ash
Long gone is the mild October sun, the evening cooler now as the moon makes its appearance. Standing outside the coffeehouse waiting for Lily to appear, I tip back and forth from heel to toe, over and over. It feels like the longest stretch of time, even though it’s only been five minutes.
Adrenaline from practice always makes me feel irritable and unable to stay still. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans to stop me swinging them about. I’m nervous. I don’t get nervous.
