Only Mr-Sex-on-Two-Legs spots me, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants as I walk over to him.
When I reach him, his woodsy body wash mixes with his natural musk, assailing my senses and a pleasant shiver works its way down my spine. I shake it off and force a smile to hide my nervousness. “You made it.”
He pushes off the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Don't look so shocked. I said I would come."
"Well, thank you."
I grab the door handle and we walk inside. Alexei trails behind me, scowling at the colorful abstract paintings and imaginative sculptures. I give him tidbits about each piece, but his eyes remain stormy.
Then we reach my sculpture,Unheard Melodies, and his steps slow as he cocks his head, studying the abstract human figures crafted from clay, metal, and glass.
“This is yours?”
I nod, wetting my dry lips with the tip of my tongue. “I made it for my sister. She’s deaf. The one on the left represents her, hands raised in sign language. The one on the right is the rest of the world, unable to understand her.”
I trace my fingers over the clay, remembering the hours I’d spent researching sign language manuals to perfectly depict the hand positions. “It’s how she described her childhood to me once. Feeling isolated even when surrounded by family.”
"It’s really good. You have a lot of talent." Alexei sweeps his gaze over the piece once more before meeting my eyes. “She’s lucky to have a brother who sees her . . . truly sees her.”
Unexpected tears gather, and my cheeks grow warm at the unexpected praise and empathy. "Thanks."
The tiniest of smiles plays on his lips. "Don't act so surprised. I can appreciate talent." The smile falls away. "Even if it's not related to hockey."
"Sorry I said that to you." I step closer, lowering my voice. "It’s just . . . you know it doesn't make you any less of an athlete to have other interests."
He tenses. "Try telling that to my father."
"Well, your father isn't here right now. It's just me, and I like hearing about all the parts of you. Not just the hockey star."
Alexei takes hold of my hand, running his thumb along my knuckles. The simple, unguarded touch sends butterflies swirling madly in my stomach. "Thank you for showing me this."
"You’re welcome." I can't stop the wide smile breaking across my face even if I wanted to.
We continue through the exhibit hand in hand as he lets me guide him from piece to piece, listening intently while I describe the artistic elements.
By the end, the ever-present tension in his broad shoulders has noticeably lessened. I chalk it up as a success.
As we exit into the cool evening air, Alexei turns to me. "Let's get something to eat."
"Sure." We end up at a diner just off campus. Once we order, an awkward silence settles between us. I fiddle with my napkin, searching for a conversation starter.
"So . . . am I the first guy you’ve ever been interested in?" I blurt out, then wince when he pales, looking down at the table. "Sorry, that just kind of came out. We don't have to talk about it."
I rub my hands over my thighs, as if trying to soothe the nervousness bubbling in me. Not just nervousness but . . . jealousy too.
He scrubs a hand down his face. " I just . . . I'm still figuring things out." He won't meet my eyes. "I've never felt this way about a guy before. Never felt much of anything for girls either. Hockey has always been my only focus.”
“You don’t feel desire a lot?”
He snorts. “I do. But wasn’t talking about sex.”
His brows furrow, features hardening. “Training and hockey are what I breathe. Relationships are . . . were distractions. Never wanted one before. Was never allowed to have one either.”
“Never allowed?”
“My father had rules.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I reach across the table and take his hand again. "There's no rush to label yourself. Or us. We can take things slow, figure it out together."
