“In a boy-next-door kinda way. He’s not my type either. He’s too young. And cute. And…I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
He smiles at me as I bring my rambling to a close.
“So you’re into not-so-young, not-so-cute guys?” he asks.
“I…” I shake my head. “I’m into guys who don’t want to take my heart and stomp on it until it’s barely beating.”
Shut up, Freya.
“And that is why hockey players aren’t your type,” he reasons. “Being with a professional athlete is hard. There’s too much temptation.”
“You mean you have girls throwing themselves at you everywhere you go?” I ask.
“Sometimes literally.”
I nod in understanding. It’s not only athletes who have to deal with rabid fans. I remember all too well how eager the girls used to be, and I’m more than aware that they helped feed into my lack of self-confidence over the past few years.
“Yeah, I think I need something a little quieter and calmer than that.”
“It’s not as glamorous as people make out. And despite what everyone thinks, we don’t all have hookups in every city we visit.”
“You have every right to do so. The travelling can be brutal; it must be nice to see a familiar face outside of the team and staff.”
He remains quiet for a moment, contemplating my words.
“Honestly, I prefer coming home to peace and quiet.”
“And no one?” I don’t mean to say the words, and the second they leave my lips, I wish I could suck them back in.
“I like my own company. I don’t come with a lot of drama.”
“Sounds perfect,” I muse, keeping the addition of “lonely” to myself.
As battered and bruised as my heart might be, I’d still like to think there is a second chance out there for me somewhere. I may or may not want marriage and babies, but I’d like someone to share my life with. Someone to experience new things with. Someone to laugh with.
“I should probably get moving. Coach will rip me a new one if I’m late.”
I nod and watch as he disappears down the hallway toward where his bedroom must be.
He hasn’t given me the tour, and that’s enough to tell me that what I’ve seen is all I’m going to see. That’s fine. I have no intention of infiltrating his life any more than I already am.
I tidy up while he’s getting ready for work, and by the time he appears in his Vipers athletic gear with a duffle over his shoulder, ready for practice, the kitchen looks like I was never here.
“Do you need anything from me before I head out?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I think I’m good. I’ll have dinner ready for when you get home.”
“I’ll shoot you a message to let you know I’m leaving,” he offers.
God, this all sounds very domesticated.
“Sounds great. Have a good day. Score all the…oh, wait. Save all the goals.”
He laughs at my inability to think before I speak.
“Have a good day, Chef. I’ll see you later.”
He’s gone before I get a chance to respond, leaving me alone in his apartment for the second time in two days.
