“Shit. How long ago was that?”
“Probably an hour or so? I would’ve called sooner, but I knew you were busy. Everything okay? Sorry, I really thought you were going to tell me she turned out to be crazy or something.”
“Nah, I actually like her a lot.” I swallow, feeling even worse than I did before. “I just messed up. Can I call you later?”
“Yeah, man, of course.”
I hang up and toss the phone to the passenger seat, putting the car in drive. A singular thought is consuming my mind:make this right.
Despite the post-skateshower and thirteen-degree temperature outside, I’m sweating as I stand in front of Ellie’s door inside her building. I may have been a little frantic after that call with Nate andmayhave jumped the gun in driving over here. She might not even be home. But I’m here now…
I adjust my black ballcap and take a quick breath before knocking on her door. I look around while I wait, noticing for the first time there’s another apartment door on her floor and stairs leading up to another level. I wonder how many neighbors Ellie has and if she likes them. Maybe it was one of them who let mein the outer door a minute ago as they left? Nice, but not very secure.
At the sound of the door handle moving, I turn back and reflexively hold my breath. Ellie swings it open, revealing that pretty freckled face I’m quickly becoming obsessed with. No signature smile and blush in place this time though. I withhold a frown and brace myself for this conversation not going as well as last night.
Ellie’s wearing a green sweatshirt and matching sweatpants with her hair messily held up by a big clip. Her lips look glossy—and edible, fuck me—but I remind myself I’m here for a reason. “Hey,” I breathe out. “Can I come in?”
She seems to be cataloging something about my appearance, a touch of concern clouding her face. I do my best to slow my breathing and quell any of the worked-up energy I might be giving off. I watch her squint at something on my neck and fight the urge to reach there.
“Are you okay? Why are you”—she pauses to gesture to my chest—“panting?”
Guess I didn’t hide that very well. “I, uh, came here straight from morning skate and had to park a couple blocks away.” I hike my thumb over my shoulder toward the south. “Then I kinda jogged,” I add, feeling an uncharacteristic heat come to my face.
Ellie scans my outfit, landing on my sneakers. I follow her gaze and look down at them, noticing for the first time that they are only half tied. I wouldn’t blame someone for calling me disheveled. I hear Ellie sigh softly and I glance up in time to see her turning away from me and heading toward her couch. She sits and tucks her hands under her legs, staring at her fuzzy-sock-covered feet moving against the shag rug.
She left the door open, but I’m not really getting “come on in” vibes. She finally looks up at me and raises her eyebrows in question.
I blink and clear my throat. “I can stay?”
Her expression shifts to something softer and she dips her head in answer. My shoulders sag with relief. Okay, now to convince her to give me a chance. I straighten my spine and walk through the door, shutting it quietly behind me. I make my way over to the leather chair that’s angled toward her couch and take a seat. Elbows propped on my knees, hands loosely clasped in front of me. Time to shine.
“I wish I had told you about my job earlier, but I can’t change that now so I want to try and tell you about why I didn’t.”
“It’s okay, Matt. You don’t owe me anything, it was one night,” Ellie says before I can continue. “I didn’t specifically ask you about your job either. I did assume it was owning that bar because of what you said, but I guess that wasn’t really a lie.”
I wince at that, thinking both of my call with Nate and how Ididget selective with what I told her last night. Ellie also sounds…resigned. Which is not good. I hesitate, looking at the rest of the couch we were lying on just hours ago. Last night was the most fun I’ve had with a girl in a long time. I haven’t felt that much immediate chemistry with someone maybe ever. And I still feel hopeful that this could go somewhere more serious. If this plays out okay. I just have to hope she understands and ultimately feels the same way I do. I focus back on Ellie.
“Well, in the name of honesty, I was, in a way, trying not to get into my hockey career. But I wasn’t trying to manipulate you or anything else malicious like that, I swear. I just really liked that to you I was simply Clark Kent, random guy at the bar you liked enough to adorably proposition. And not Matt Anderson, professional hockey player, some trophy to be bagged. It’s not very often people don’t already know who I am when they meetme.” I cringe and look at Ellie’s fuzzy socks. “I know how that sounds, but it’s just my life.”
After a beat I make eye contact, determined to explain.
“I got famous at like fifteen. My whole life, everyone I’m with has known my name, and the people who try to get to know me don’t always have good intentions. In fact, I would venture to say most don’t,” I mutter, fighting a sneer. “I own that this is the cost of living a dream. And I’m grateful for it. I know how lucky I am to be doing this for a living. But it can often be exhausting living this way. And meeting someone in this city who didn’t know me was like… It’s like a weight I didn’t know I was carrying every day was lifted. I forget how heavy the burden is to be in the spotlight until I’m at home, with my family. Or now, with you, and it’s…not there. I’m not trying to throw a pity party here. I know I have a good life. I just hope you can understand why I didn’t tell you.”
I’ve been watching Ellie, trying to assess how my explanation is landing, but her expression remains carefully neutral. I know she said I don’t owe her anything, but I’d like to get to a point where she can have expectations of me.
“I do,” she says. “Understand, I mean. I’m not upset, Matt. It just took me by surprise and brought up some old issues.” She waves her hand in a dismissive gesture.
Despite her words and the casual tone, something about her demeanor is putting me on edge. In an effort not to be obtuse, I try to think through this from her perspective the best I can.
She could still be upset about me lying, of course. Feelings don’t just vanish. Or it could be something else. She did mention “old issues.” I try to think of what I know about her past from our minimal time together so far. As I’m replaying our conversation from last night, something occurs to me.
“Was your ex a hockey player?”
“What?” Ellie’s brows draw down low. “God, no. I would never?—”
I raise my own, taken aback by her reaction. Ellie grimaces. She saidnever…
“That came out wrong, sorry. I just…no. Josh wasn’t a hockey player or pro athlete.” Ellie sighs and sits back on the couch, tilting her head onto the cushion and looking up at the ceiling. “Despite how this is all coming out, I don’t really have a lot of resentment for my ex. I just don’t like being kept in the dark, and this morning kind of reminded me what that felt like.”
