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“That’s awful,” she says, glancing at me briefly. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t mean to steer the conversation towards me. I just know how tough it can be.”
“And I was a grown woman when it happened! I can’t imagine as a child…”
“Trust me, they were better off,” I tell her honestly. “My Dad has always been career-obsessed. He’s more in love with his businesses than anything else in this world.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have made things difficult living with him.”
“Very.” I nod. “It wasn’t up to me in the end, though. I still don’t know why he even wanted me with him. It was obvious I cramped his lifestyle. I think he thought I’d just follow in his footsteps or something.”
“But you didn’t want to go into business?”
I shake my head. “It’s never interested me. My Mom taught me to skate when I was a kid. I was obsessed with the ice as soon as I could hold a hockey stick,” I muse, remembering back.
Smiling, she turns into her driveway and parks. I can tell she lives in a nice area of town, even in the dark. She has certainly done well for herself. “That’s so cool,” she says. “So, from then, you wanted to play hockey?”
“Yeah, I always loved watching the game. Then, when I realized I could skate, I decided that’s what I wanted to do. I’ve always been fast at most things.” I shrug.
“Yes, so I’ve seen.”
I glance at her as she switches the ignition off.
“On the ice,” she clarifies. “I took the liberty of watching some clips.”
I smile. Good to know. “Ah, so you looked me up on the internet?”
She laughs. “Just on YouTube, so I could learn more about the game.”
It pleases me more that she took the time to do that.
“You know I’m bummed I never got to meet you that night you came to your first game,” I say, as we exit the Jeep and she walks up to the front of her house. It’s a beach bungalow with a white veneer facia and an aqua-blue trim. It has that beachy feel to it.
She laughs, remembering. “Yeah, me too. I had no idea who you were when I put your jersey on.”
I laugh, too. “I saw you in the stands, but I had to go straight after the game. My Dad called and said it was urgent, so I had to go meet with him.”
“Well, it was better late than never,” she tells me, walking to the front and opening the door.
“Come on in.”
She flicks on a light in the entryway, and I see it is beach-themed all the way, from the white beams across the ceilings down to the whitewashed floorboards. There’s coastal memorabilia on the walls and a huge picture of Miami Beach at sunset as the main focal point of the living room we’re standing in.
“It’s cute,” I say, not expecting anything less from her.
“You like it?”
“Oh, I like it. Very much.”
Our eyes lock again, and I wonder how I’m even keeping my cool.
There are so many things I’d like to be doing and exploring with her body in mind.
Patience.I tell myself.
She kicks off her shoes almost immediately. I instantly see how small she is without the added height from her heels. She casually unties her hair and gives me a brief tour of the kitchen, bedrooms, and bathrooms as I enter.
“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” she asks, as her loose, golden curls bounce around her shoulders.
