I step back. “Neither of us can stay in New Orleans for a month. We have a lot to do in Rebel.”
“So how about tonight?”
Yes, absolutely, take me there now.
“I…” Shouldn’t even tell him how much I want to, should I? That’s a bad idea if I’m going to be adamant aboutnotdoing it. And what if he decides to kiss me again? He could convince methat my worries can be dealt with tomorrow. “...can’t.” I shake my head. “There is no way I can sleep with you, Alex.”
He steps closer. “Am I misreading our chemistry? Tell me, and I’ll back off.”
I believe him. I feel completely safe with Alex. And godno, he’s not misreading anything. “No. It’s not that. Iwant to. I just can’t.” I laugh lightly. “Ishouldn’t. And it’s been a really long time. And it’ll probably be a really long time to come. What with the no dating and all.”
God, it’s been areallylong time. And the last few times weren’t great. And it will be a really long time before it happens again. My trust has been shot. Men can tell me they’re staying, that they’re in it for the long-haul but I don’t know if I can believe anyone anymore. And if they’re not staying, if it’s not going to lead to something more, then why risk getting my heart involved?
I realize I’m rambling and my thoughts are wandering. I clear my throat. “The thing is, you’re leaving. And I like you. And if I sleep with you, I will get even more attached and when you leave, it will be even harder. I already don’t deal well with people leaving me and Rebel.”
He doesn’t say anything right away and I think that, maybe, he looks surprised. I’m sure he’s surprised that someone is turning him down for sex. But that’s not what this feels like.
“You think you’re going to beattachedto me?” he asks.
How is that hard to believe? “Yes. I think we’re going to be friends. I think we already are.”
“I mean, I know that you probably think the hockey team will miss me. But hopefully everything will be well-established by the time I go back to Portland. The people will be coming for the fun and the team will be playing well together so you’ll be selling plenty of tickets and won’t need me anymore.”
I’m not sure what’s going on here. “I hope all of that’s true. But I’m not talking about missing you on the hockey team. I’m talking about the fact that we’re going to spend the next seven months working together, getting to know each other. I’ll missyou.”
“Oh.”
He looks like he’s trying to solve a complicated calculus equation in his head.
“Don’t you miss people in Portland?” I ask. He seems confused about the concept of missing someone.
“Well, Astrid. But she’s here. I miss my family. But that’s normal. And I go back to see them.”
“Don’t you miss any teammates?”
“Yes. I guess so.” He shakes his head. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind since I got here so I haven’t really thought about it. And I’ve got a new team. New people to play with so I guess I thought maybe they’d fill in those gaps.”
“Well, I’m sure your teammates in Portland miss you.”
He frowns. “I haven’t been playing for several months. I’ve been hurt since last October.”
“Yes, I know they’ve adjusted to not having you on the ice with them.” He winces slightly when I say that. “But I mean you as a person.”
He doesn’t respond to that. Does Alex Olsen actually think that no one cares about him other than when he’s in skates?
I really can’t sleep with him. Because regardless of what he understands about missing humans as people and friends,Idefinitely understand it. I get attached. I know it has to do with my mother basically giving me up when I was an infant and moving on with her life and then starting another family without me. And to me, that’s okay. That is a normal reaction to having a mother who had bigger and better things to do.
But I do get attached, and I do like having lots of people to love. And being loved by lots of people. And I’m well aware it is why I am so co-dependent on my hometown. It is full of people who love me.
I suddenly want to show Alex Olsen what it’s like to havefriendswho he is not related to and who do not suit up for hockey games with him.
“Maybe we could?—”
“Hey, are you Alex Olsen?”
I’m cut off from suggesting we find a jazz club or somewhere else to spend some time by three boys in their late teens.
Alex turns toward the boys. “I am.”
