We stroll along the trail, the crisp snow crunching underfoot.
This feels nice. She lifts our joined hands.
I really like being with you. You’re full of surprises. Most people are so predictable, myself included.
I like being with you too. It’s restful. She stops walking, her eyes wide. Wait, does that sound like I think you’re boring? Because it’s the fucking opposite. All I mean is that sometimes my energy is all over the place, but you’re so calm.
That makes sense. We complement each other.
As I breathe in the crisp night air, it feels like I’m breathing in joy. Her openness has been healing for me after what happened with Lana. Cleo seems to like me exactly as I am.
Now that we’ve finally gotten past the issues with her brother, things feel good. In fact, I might even have to reconsider my opinion of Jordan. At least he told the truth when Cleo confronted him, and that freed her from her misconceptions about me.
Isn’t it great out tonight? I ask.
She smirks. What? The delicate West Coast flower finally appreciates our Minnesota winters?
I still hate how cold it gets. But I can appreciate the good parts. I motion upwards. Tonight, the sky is so clear that you can really enjoy the moon and stars.
It’s funny, but the sky appears bigger here. Back home, there are taller trees and mountain ridges that shrink the horizon.
I’m glad you like my home state, she says. What could be more fitting than hockey players living in the state of hockey?
One reason that I chose Monarch is that there are so many teams in Minnesota that we don’t have to do long road trips. I’m a creature of habit; I like to sleep in my own bed and maintain my routines.
Yeah. When I was growing up, I used to fantasize about living somewhere where I could play hockey outside. And scrimmage for as long as I wanted. Imagine playing hockey by moonlight. I look up at the almost-full moon.
Cleo wraps her arms around me in a bear hug.
What’s this for? I trap her arms with my own because she feels so warm and comforting.
You’ve been hiding your adorable boyish side from me, she says.
Well, I don’t think anyone likes to reveal their vulnerabilities in front of people who dislike them.
We break apart and continue walking.
I couldn’t keep hating you when you turned out to be such a nice guy. A nice guy who can do a mean Watusi.
I do a couple of hip swivels, and of course, Cleo joins in. We both end up laughing.
You do know that Marjorie and Geraldine think you’re a nice chunk of eye candy, right? she asks.
I turn towards Cleo and put my hands on her broad shoulders. And what do you think?
Her bright eyes sparkle even in the moonlight. I think you’re beautiful. Inside and out.
A compliment from someone who hasn’t held back her insults feels more genuine. And isn’t authenticity something I’ve been craving?
Thank you. I lean closer until I feel the warmth of her breath on my cheek.
Feel free to compliment me back, she demands.
What to say? It feels selfish to explain that she makes me happier, even if I suspect that Cleo spreads joy wherever she goes. It’s too crass to say that the memory of her half-dressed in bed has been replaying in my brain. My attraction to her is a collection of tiny moments and revelations.
I like your freshness, I say.
She laughs, shoving me away and then pulling me back. What the fuck does that mean? Is that a hygiene thing? Or my sass?
