“I think if the house will make you happy then go for it. Life is one big adventure, isn’t it?”
God, I admire her positive outlook on life. She’s just a good energy to be around. I need more people like that in my circle.
I set my wine glass down because I want both my arms around her; if our week is almost up, then I will glue myself to her tonight. She looks up at me and must sense that I have a lot on my mind.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Hockey,” I lie. “This week, I got to physically do something, but now my association with hockey turns to corporate meetings.”
“You’ll get used to it. I guess your social calendar will open up too, so go check out some concerts or take a vacation. Decompress.” She’s listing ideas, but they’re all enjoyed better if joined by someone who makes it more fun.
I don’t like myself softening. It’s happening. I feel it.
The water boils over on the spaghetti pot, and Violet is quick to take action, stepping out of my hold and giving us the space that we probably need. “Look at me, about to kill our meatless dinner. This is why Ford doesn’t trust me with dinner duty.”
Ford. The gentle reminder that Violet and I are supposed to be off-limits to one another. Then again, not many people share the details on who their current friend with benefits is. We also have to question if the thrill of him finding out plays a role in this attraction between Violet and me, because our chemistry is high and seamless, maybe even uncontrollable.
“Are you frowning? For a man about to eat the best sauce from a jar, you seem kind of down,” she comments.
“I’m just lost in a lot of thoughts, and starving. I guess I didn’t eat lunch today. There is this boy who wouldn’t stop talking about his favorite player, and I got excited and listened, assuming it was me. Turns out his favorite player is Erikson, who is a forward. A shot to my ego, but I couldn’t stop smiling. The kid has his whole future ahead of him and so much optimism. I’m kind of jealous.”
Violet tips her hip out and gives me a knowing look. “Your problem is that you only look at the near future and not the far future, and your far future may just hold the dream that makes you optimistic again. Use that logic when you make your house decision… and ask for proof that the counters are quartz.” She winks.
Of course she would be supportive, she’s a team player. Except I think we tossed out the rulebook a few days ago, and I’m no longer sure what game we’re playing.
* * *
Skating backwards,I do my best to steal the puck from Connor, but the guy is fast and sharp. We decided to play a little one-on-one since it’s my last day volunteering at the summer program, and the kids are eating their lunch before we do a round of working on coordination with a partner.
“Come on, old man, give me a challenge,” Connor snickers.
In a flash, I overreach my arm to grab the puck with my stick, and although successful, I feel an old injury in my shoulder flare from the effort.
“Respect your elders,” I chide through labored breath as I begin to circle my arm.
Connor gets the clue that we need to take a break, and we both pause near the crease.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re better than my dad on the ice.”
I look up from leaning over with my hands on my thighs. “Thanks.”I think.
“You look kind of tired, to be honest.”
That’s because I spent last night with your aunt.
After dinner, we attempted to watch a movie, then ditched that idea and headed straight to her room where we had a round before sleeping until early hours. Violet had to get to her store at seven because she had to prepare flowers for a wedding.
“I’m not tired,” I lie. “I’m distracted.” The moment it slips off my lips, I realize my error.
Connor shifts his stick to his other hand. “Why?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Well, figure it out, because your focus on the game sucks.”
My eyes pop out at his boldness. “I’m not playing anymore; I don’t need to have my head in the game.”
“Yeah, you just own the team now, so I’m pretty positive you need to focus on that.”
