She turned her head. I got cheek.
Ouch. When?
After dinner Saturday. We had this great conversation, everything seemed perfect, and then...
Then you tried to kiss her and she panicked.
How do you know she panicked?
Because I know Golda. And I know her history. You can’t just expect her to fall into your arms after one good date.
It was a REALLY good date.
I’m sure it was. But she’s not like your usual... companions.
I know that.
Do you? Because if you think you can charm your way past her defenses like you do with everyone else, you’re going to be very disappointed.
I’m trying to figure out how to respond to that without sounding like a complete asshole.
So what do I do?
Be patient. Give her space. Don’t be pushy.
I texted her “hey” earlier and she didn’t respond.
THAT’S being pushy?
I don’t know! I’ve never had to figure this out before.
Figure what out?
How to talk to someone who might actually matter.
There’s a long pause before Elliot responds.
You really like her.
Yeah.
Like, actually like her. Not just attracted to her or intrigued by the challenge.
Yeah.
Then stop acting like Dex Malone, Professional Hockey Player, and start acting like a human being who gives a shit about someone other than himself.
Harsh.
True. Now go to sleep. You have another game tomorrow, and if you play like that again, Brody’s going to disown you.
I stare at the ceiling, replaying Saturday night for the thousandth time. The way she laughed when I suggested blowing the pop stand. The vulnerable conversation by the water. The moment when I thought we were finally connecting on something real.
And then the kiss that wasn’t a kiss, and the look on her face like I’d just proved every fear she had about this whole thing.
My phone buzzes. For a second, my heart jumps thinking it might be Golda, but it’s just Brody.
Elliot says you’re having a crisis.
