Off Sides (4 page)

Ryan

The alarm blares at 6:30 a.m. and I slap it off. I wake up with a smile on my face as I had an amazing dream about Danny, the dirty details I will not disclose.

I think back to our kiss last night. Never before had a kiss turned me on like that. I was close to begging Danny to let me bury myself in her. But at the same time, I didn't want to go further. I wanted to savor it all. And this morning...I realize I want to drag it out. The way she stroked my hand last night, in comfort of me, after all she has been through...words can't describe. I want to take my time with this girl because she is so different than anyone I have ever been around.

Rolling out of bed, I see Mike is still asleep. I pick up a pillow and throw it at him.

"Get up, Petunia. We have to be at practice in half an hour."

Mike groans and slowly sits up. His blond hair is sticking up all over the place. "How can you be so chipper this early in the morning?"

"Just excited to get on the ice."

"Why do you have a dopey grin on your face?"

He's trying to get a rise out of me but I don't respond. "I'll see you there. I'm going to grab something to eat first."

"Hold up, man."

I pause and look at him.

"So, how was your date last night?"

"It was fine...nice. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"Yeah, I'm getting up." Mike swings his long legs out of bed, stands and stretches.  I pull out my iPhone while Mike gets dressed and think about sending Danny a text. Should I make it short and flirty? Or should I send a more romantic text.  Oh my God...I'm turning into a putz, but then I smile and roll with it. Just as I'm ready to type, Mike gives me a punch in the shoulder.

"I'm ready."

I put the phone in my pocket and pick up my gear bag. I'll text her after practice.

***

I'm sitting in the locker room, getting ready for practice. I've got my Under Armour, jock shorts and shin pads on. As I'm pulling on my hockey socks and securing them to the Velcro tabs on my shorts, Mike walks over and sits down on the bench beside me.

"Alright...I can't stand it. Spill."

I don't look at him. "Spill what?"

"Don't be an ass. Just tell me how the date went. Usually you’re willing to tell me everything but you are keeping this one close to the vest. I figure that means it went really, really well or really, really bad." He stands up and moves in front of me. He pounds his fist into his chest. "I'm here for ya, man. Whichever way it went."

I chuckle at him. "Okay...fine. If you must know, it went really, really well."

Mike sits down again, crossing one leg over the other in feminine fashion.  He puts his hands on his knees, gazing intently at me. "Do tell."

I snicker and throw a roll of tape at him.  I stand up and pull my pants on. "I don't really know what to say. She's amazing."

"Whose amazing?"  This from Carter who walks up behind me.

"No one," I say at the same time Mike says, "His date from last night."

I groan. I so don't need Carter in on this conversation. I love the guy but he has a big mouth.

"What date? Where have I been?"

Mike pipes up. "He went out with that smokin' hot waitress from Sally's."

I sit down to put my skates on, pulling the laces tight.

"Dude," Carter says. "You said you didn't want to hit that."  His voice sounds accusatory and I remember back to that night. Carter acted like he might try to ask her out.

"I'm not 'hitting that', Carter.  We went out on a date."

"But you said she was amazing. If you didn't bang her, what was so amazing?"

I grab the tape off the floor and start wrapping my shin pads. "Carter, you are such a Neanderthal. Not everything is about screwing."

"Yes, it is," Carter replies matter-of-factly. "I mean, what could have been more amazing last night than screwing?"

Carter is genuinely curious I can tell and it's sort of endearing. He may be a player right now but I bet one day, Carter is going to fall hard.

"You guys are like pit bulls. If you must know, I went with her to a homeless shelter and we did some volunteer work in the kitchen.  Then we went and grabbed a couple of beers."

Carter is looking at me as if I just sprouted antlers out of my head. "No, seriously...what did you really do?"

I just shook my head and picked up my shoulder pads, strapping them into place. "Forget it, Carter.  I just don't think you'd understand."

He is literally scratching his head in consternation as he walks away. I turn to look at Mike. "Was my date last night really that weird?"

Mike stands up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Yup. It was weird. But it was also amazing, and that's all that matters. I'm happy for you, man."

I punch him lightly in the chest. "Thanks, bro."

***

Practice is almost over and we are doing a light scrimmage right now. I'm the center on the first line and I've been playing fucking fantastic today. I'm on a breakaway right now, having just received the puck from a brilliant pass by Mike. I'm streaking down the right side, and Mike is mirroring me on the left. There's only one defenseman between us and the goalie. I make a quick pass over to Mike. Just as the defensemen commits to Mike, he flips the puck back to me and I wind up for a slap shot, aiming for the five-hole. Just as I'm bringing my stick down toward the ice, I see the blade of another stick poke between my legs and hook over the front of my left skate. It's jerked backward, along with my foot and I go crashing face first into the ice. I'm moving so fast the momentum slides me head first into the boards. Thankfully, I'm able to tuck my head and catch the boards with my shoulder instead.

The coach blows the whistle and I hear Mike bellow, "What the fuck, Malone?"

I didn't need to hear Mike yell that to know it was Reece Malone who had pulled me down. He is a loser and I don't understand why Coach keeps him on the team. He’s bitter that his talent will never get him higher than our fourth line and he begrudges success to anyone else.  Even if that means our team takes a loss. He is poison to our morale.

I jump up from the ice and take off toward Malone. I'm going to kick his ass. I hear the coach frantically blowing the whistle and my teammates rush in to separate us before we can even connect.

"You try that shit again, Reece and I will tear your fucking head off, you hear me?"

I am pissed and if I didn't have three of my teammates holding me back, I probably would have killed him.  Reece just smirks at me. He shakes off the hands holding him and skates off the ice.

Coach wisely calls an end to practice and we all head to the locker room. As I walk in, I move past Malone who is standing in front of his locker and try to ignore him.

"Hey, Burnham. I heard you went slumming last night and banged some grease whore from Sally's."

I vaguely hear Mike say, "Oh fuck" but then all I hear after is the sound of my fist hitting Malone's face. I get in at least four good hits, all to the left side of his temple and jaw, before Carter and Mike are pulling me off. No one needed to hold Malone back because my hits were vicious and fueled by an inferno of rage. He is on the floor, blood running down his face from an open cut, and he won't be getting up anytime soon.

Mike is pulling me backward and tells me to calm down. I shake him off of me viciously. "Get the fuck off me, Mike. I'm fine."

He pulls his arms back and holds them up in surrender. He looks at me apprehensively.

I turn my back on him and stalk over to my locker. Coach comes up to me and gives me a dressing down. He tells me to get my ass in gear or else I can kiss my Captaincy goodbye. My only consolation is that Malone needs five stitches in his head.

***

By the time Mike and I make it to the dining hall, I've calmed somewhat but my stomach is in knots. I was beyond furious when Malone called Danny a whore. I try to imagine what she would have felt like if she had heard that. And now I'm afraid that Danny will be facing an endless stream of spitefulness from my crowd just because of her lot in life.

I grab a tray of food, not really paying attention to what I'm choosing. Mike and I find an empty table and sit down.

"You okay, man?" Mike's eyes are filled with concern.

"Sure."

"What’s up with Malone? It's like his attitude is getting worse. I don't understand why Coach doesn't kick him off the team."

I shake my head. I don't get it either. But if Malone is going to tear our team apart, we can kiss any chance of a winning season goodbye. I eat in silence, mulling everything over.

"Hey, Ryan. You know what Malone said about Danny is just words, right? They shouldn't mean anything to you."

He's trying to comfort and reassure me, and I get that. But a dark feeling is taking root in my mind. I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I don't know if I can handle the inevitable fallout that is going to come by forging a relationship with Danny.

"This is a bad idea...to get involved with her, isn't it?"

Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe not."

"You said it yourself. My parents will never accept her because she looks different and isn’t in our social haven. Our crowd has their heads so far up their asses, they believe because she works in a diner that she's a whore. Tell me how this can work?"

I feel like I'm almost pleading with him to give me the right answer.

Mike puts down his sandwich and leans forward. "Tell me, Ryan...do you care what she looks like?"

"No, although I think she's freakin' gorgeous."

"So, her purple hair and nose ring and...whatever that is in her eyebrow...that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all."

"And the fact she works in a diner? Does that change how you feel?"

"No! I admire the fact she's working...two jobs...going to school and doing volunteer work. She's amazing."

"Then I don't see what the problem is, dude. All that matters is what you think."

I sigh.  I know that. And I don't care what anyone else thinks about me for being with Danny. But I do care if Danny gets hurt because of the nastiness I'm surrounded by.

Danny and I have been out one time. We've spent less than three hours together, and yet I find myself wanting to protect her more than any other person I've ever known. The strength of these feelings scares the shit out of me. I just don't know what to do.

Danny

It's 6:00 a.m. and my alarm is shrieking from across the room. I put it over there so I have to get up and get out of bed to turn it off.  Otherwise, I'm always in danger of just falling back asleep. I put my pillow over my head and try to ignore it. When that doesn't work, I throw my pillow at it and it makes a direct hit, knocking the clock to the floor. Except, it's still shrieking at me. I simply take my other pillow and cover my head with it.

It's been five days since my date with Ryan and he hasn't called me. I'm depressed and I know it, and I hate myself that I feel this way. I should have more fortitude than I’m showing right now.

I spent the day after our date replaying everything over in my mind. I spent a lot of time thinking of our last kiss. I couldn't help but imagine what comes after a kiss like that. In theory, I know what happens after a kiss like that.  In reality, well...let's just say I have to rely on my imagination.

When I had not heard from Ryan the day after our date, I was a little worried and slightly annoyed. I sent him a quick text the following morning:

Hi. R U ok?

He texted back fairly quickly.

Yup. Something came up. Call u later.

I immediately felt better after getting his text and went about spending another day waiting for him to call. Except, rather than walking on clouds and day-dreaming about our phenomenal kiss, I obsessed about why he had not called. I had a nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. Thinking of every possible reason why he wouldn’t call, I was convinced by the end of that second day I would not hear from him.

And I didn't.

No calls, no texts. Nothing.

I didn't bother to text him again. A stalker I was not.

By the end of the third day with no word from him, I deleted his contact information from my phone.

The alarm is still shrieking and Paula's bedroom door opens. "What the fu-u—udge, Danny? Turn that damn thing off."

I ignore her and the alarm. Lying here in bed and ignoring everything is what's on the agenda today. I have a blessedly rare day to myself with no work obligations, no school and I plan on having a date with my pillow.

My door opens and footsteps pad across the floor. The alarm turns off and there is now oppressive silence. My mattress dips down and I know Paula is lying in my bed beside me. I don't move.

"Are you just going to lay here?"

"Yes," I mumble. "And I'd appreciate it if you leave me alone."

Paula is silent for several seconds and then the pillow is ripped off my head and the covers are pulled back.

"Alright. I've had it with you. You are no longer allowed to sulk, pine, mope, pout or glower. You're going to get your ass up and get back on with your life."

I roll over and look at Paula. She is grinning at me, completely unapologetic for her vigorous tactics to get me out of bed. I couldn't help but to smile back at her.

"So how are you feeling, kiddo?"

Flipping in the opposite direction, I roll completely off the bed and stand up. Stretching my arms upward, I give a huge yawn. "I'm fine. Besides, you know I'm really not one to lie around and bemoan anything. It is indeed time for me to move on."

"True dat. I've never met anyone that tries as hard as you do to get past something hurtful."

I grimace at her words. They are true but they make me sound callous. Whenever anything bad has happened to me, I tend to grieve pretty hard but then I tuck it away and try not to look back. That has worked well so far dealing with both of my parents' deaths. Not so well with the loss of my music. And the jury is still out how I am going to let Ryan's brush-off affect me.

Gosh, I so want to just kick my ass right now for falling so easily for that man. I knew better! I have a very specific agenda to complete certain things in my life, and I have no business getting sidetracked. That includes going gooey over a hot hockey player who kisses like Armageddon is just on the other side of the horizon.

"I think I'm going to go for a run this morning. Want to join me?"

Paula snorts at me. No matter how many times I've invited her to run with me or workout, she always has the same answer. "Let's see...running or cigarettes?  I choose cigarettes."

Giving her a good eye roll for measure, I head to our tiny bathroom to brush my teeth. It's definitely time to move on.

***

Heading out of my apartment, I see the sun has already risen but it's still quite chilly. The decision to wear my light weight running jacket and long pants is smart. I plan on doing five miles today so I will probably be burning up by the time I get back.

Opening the front door to my building, I'm setting the timer on my watch as I jog down the front steps. Not paying attention to my surroundings, I'm brought up short in surprise when I hear, "Hello, Danny."

My head snaps up and I lock onto Ryan's eyes. Even as I feel anger rush through me, I also have a tremor of excitement over seeing him. I quickly take him in. He’s standing there with his hands tucked into his incredibly well fitting jeans’ pockets.  His hair is perfectly mussed and hanging boyishly over his forehead.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

Even as pissed as I am at him, I'm surprised that the words come out as just merely curious and I'm glad. I don't want him to know he affected me the way he did.

Ryan frowns at me and it's clear on his face that he did, in fact, suspect he'd get anger from me. "I was hoping we could talk."

I look up and down my block, considering if I should just bolt forward into my run. But curiosity is getting me. "How long have you been here?"

"Since about 5:30 a.m."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Hard time sleeping?"

"Something like that," he murmurs. "I wanted to talk to you and I didn't want to miss you coming or going as I didn't know if you were working today, so I just decided to camp out."

That's interesting and should be slightly flattering he would do that to make sure he could see me. But I quickly tamp that feeling down.
I will not fall back under his spell
, I repeat to myself over and over again.

"Look, Ryan...you don't owe me any explanation or anything and frankly, I'm good. There's nothing to really talk about."

Anger flashes through those bourbon colored eyes. Score one for a direct hit.

"Didn't the other night mean anything to you?" he demands.

I cock my head slightly at him because it’s certainly weird that he would be affronted by my lack of interest since he’s the one that didn’t call me as promised. "Didn't it mean anything to you?" I retort.

He runs his hand through his hair in a measure of frustration.  Sighing, he whispers, "It meant more to me than even I suspected. That's why I need to talk to you."

Something about the earnestness in his words melts a little bit of the ice. He's not giving me a line and I sense it is important for him to tell me something so he can ease his burden. Why I am taking it upon myself to let him do so remains to be seen.

I sigh. "Fine. Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure. That would be great."

I turn and walk back into my building with Ryan on my heels. He doesn't say anything but that doesn't stop me from being painfully aware of his presence behind me. There’s like a disturbance in the atmosphere when I’m near him.

When I open the door and we walk into the apartment, I take off my jacket and throw it over the back of the couch.  He follows me into the kitchen.

I pull out two cups and fill them up. I push his cup toward him and indicate cream and sugar which he declines. Just as he's taking a sip, I hear, "What the fuck is he doing here?"

I look behind me and Paula is standing there glaring daggers at Ryan. Not saying a word, my hand reaches out to her palm up. She turns her glare to me then grabs her purse off the counter, fishing around inside. Coming out, she quietly lays one cigarette in my palm. I stick it under the kitchen sink and soak it with water.

As I throw it into the garbage, I hear Paula say, "Pardon me. May I inquire as to what this gentleman is doing in our apartment?"

I glance over at Ryan and he's looking at Paula like she was the bearded lady in the circus...a mixture of grotesque curiosity and humor.

"He's here to talk for a few minutes. I'm choosing to indulge him."  I pick up my coffee cup and walk into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, I watch as Ryan folds his large frame into an old, tattered wicker chair.  Our furniture is second hand and mismatched as all get out. Paula walks right in behind him and sits down next to me on the couch.  She's still glaring at him and now he's glaring back at her.

"Paula...it’s fine. Give me a few minutes alone to talk to Ryan."

She reluctantly stands up and moves around the coffee table to leave. Pointing her finger at him she says, "I'm watching you, boy."

I can't help but snicker. Paula is five foot nothing and weights ninety pounds soaking wet. But boy can she be scary when she wants to. Ryan does nothing more than give a small nod of his head in her direction then turns his eyes to me.

I settle back into the cushions and take a sip of my coffee, watching him over the rim. He scrubs his hand through his hair which I now see is definitely a nervous gesture. It unsettles me that I immediately take note of how his hair slides forward, lying in gentle waves along the side of his temple and neck. I remember how soft it felt as I ran my own fingers through it not but a few days ago. I sigh at myself. I really need to let the hotness of Ryan go.

Leaning forward, Ryan puts his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. He looks at me and there is sorrow there. Here comes the apology and I try to steel myself against it.

But I’m caught off guard when he doesn't apologize. Instead, he says, "The morning after our date, I woke up thinking about you. And I was almost giddy with happiness." He gives me a small smile. "Then I went to hockey practice and one of my teammates called you a whore."

I flinch backward from the softness of his voice and the hurtfulness of his words. Why would someone view me that way?

Before I could say anything, Ryan continues,"I beat the shit out of him until he was bleeding all over the locker room floor."

Oh wow. I feel slightly vindicated. "Did you get in trouble?"

Ryan shakes his head while looking down at the floor. Then he drags his eyes back up to me. "At first, I was furious someone would say that about you. My best friend, Mike...he said it shouldn't matter. It only matters what I think about you."

"Sounds like Mike is pretty smart," I muse.

Ryan leans back in the chair, laying the palms of his hands on his thighs. He starts picking at, what I assume is imaginary lint, just to keep his hands busy. "Yeah, he is. But, the fact of the matter remains, that if we date, there are going to be people in my circle that will think that. Some might even say that...right to your face. And...I just didn't want you to have to go through that."

"So you decide on your own that a relationship is not a good idea...to what...protect me?" I’m pissed I didn’t get a say-so in this and I’m sure he can tell by the tone of my voice.

Ryan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks like he had a major headache brewing. "Here is where I need to be absolutely honest with you, Danny. Yes, at first my thoughts were solely about protecting you. I didn't want you to get hurt. But then I started realizing that I would get hurt too. Every time you would get hurt, I would hurt as well. And I then questioned whether I was able to make that type of commitment to someone. I'm ashamed to say...I was protecting myself, too. I didn't think I was ready for this."

His words hurt but I also have to admire and respect his brutal honesty. He could have sugar coated this breakup to me but he candidly tells me that he’s afraid for himself as well. "I get it and I appreciate the truth. I know you could have given me a dozen lines to help ease your conscience over this."

"I'm glad you understand," Ryan says as he stands up from his chair.

So this is it, the final goodbye. 

Except...he doesn’t head toward the door. He walks right over to me and sits beside me on the couch. As I turn to face him, he reaches out and strokes his fingertips over my cheek. I shiver as the rough feel of them gently caresses me.

"I'm glad you understand that because I expect you to understand this as well. It only took me another two days to realize that I would rather suffer the pain of what others might think than be away from you. It took me two more days to get up the nerve to come here to see you. The only thing I can ask of you is can you endure that with me so we can try again."

I close my eyes as his thumb gently plays along my jaw. I let his words settle into me and I enjoy the warmth they promote...for just a minute. But then I push past it. It’s probably a really bad idea to even entertain the notion of a relationship with Ryan.

So far, he has proven to be skittish and apparently runs in a circle of assholes. Do I want to even be involved in this?

I open my eyes and look at him. Before I can even say anything, he leans in and brushes his lips over mine. He moves his mouth to my temple and presses a light kiss there.  Then he whispers, "Please. Take a chance."

I pull slightly away from him. I'm wary but I cannot deny that I feel an intense connection to Ryan. It is more than just physical attraction. I sense something in him that resonates with me although I cannot put my finger on it.  Am I willing to explore that further to see if it can be identified?

"Okay," I breathe out.

"Okay?" Ryan sounds bewildered.

I nod my head and before I know it, he wraps me in a suffocating hug. Ryan presses his head into my neck and murmurs a "thank you" against my skin which causes my pulse to go through the roof.

Pulling back he looks at me. Cupping both of my cheeks with his hands, he just stares at me with such ferocity that it makes me want to devour him. I lean in to kiss him but he stops me. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Danny. I won't do it again."