Page 9 of Capturing the Captain

Since I was supposed to take Olivia out for dinner tonight, I figure she'd be hungry. There's a Chinese food takeout place not far from the address she sent me. I go in and order at least five different dishes since I'm not sure what she likes. Hopefully she'll like at least one of them.

After leaving the restaurant, I walk the remaining two blocks to Olivia’s apartment. I'm a ball of nerves as I climb the stairs, trying to figure out which floor is hers. I'm standing in front of apartment 5D, trying to catch my breath. Jesus, that was a lot of stairs. I play professional hockey for a living and five flights of stairs have floored me? Maybe I need to work harder on my cardio.

When my heart rate slows to a less frightening rhythm, I press the doorbell. I wait, ten seconds, twenty seconds. Do I ring the bell again? What if she's not answering on purpose. Will she even let me in after I stood her up this evening? I won't blame her if she doesn't.

I ring the bell one more time, hoping like hell that she'll answer.

Devastation is overcoming me the longer it takes her to answer the door. Okay, I'll give it ten seconds and if she doesn't answer, I'll leave. Ten, nine, eight. Shit. Seven, six, five. Fuck. Four, three, two - The door opens.

This woman is breathtaking. Standing here in sweats and an oversized t-shirt, blonde hair damp, and fluffy slippers on her feet. She’s never looked so beautiful.

“Hi, Josh.” She smiles up at me but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. The baby blue of her eyes has dimmed, the light that glimmered this morning looks dull now and I know that’s my doing.

“Hey, gorgeous.” I reply and her smile grows slightly. So does the pink in her cheeks.

“Come in.” She steps aside and allows me into her apartment. It's a lot smaller than my place but it's cozy. It smells like her, vanilla and something flowery. Sweet. Intoxicating.

“I brought Chinese food.” I hold up the bags filled to the brim with mouthwatering food inside.

Making my way over to the small kitchen, I set the bags on the counter and begin pulling out the numerous containers of food. Noodles, rice, chicken, beef, soup.

You name it, I've got it.

I look over to where Olivia is still standing near the door. Her eyes are on the mountain of containers laid out over her kitchen island and she has a look of disbelief on her face.

“What?” I laugh, “I didn't know what you liked.”

“This is great, Josh, thank you.” Her wide smile is directed at me now and I take a moment to savor it.

She moves away to retrieve plates and cutlery from the cupboards near me. I can't help but look at her when she bends over. Her ass looks so good in those sweats. I'm sure it always looks good but I’ve never had a chance to look properly. It's plump and round, she definitely works out. I'd love to reach out and -

“What’s wrong?” She asks, concern written on her face. “You look like you're in pain.”

“Huh? Oh nothing. Nothing at all.” I smile, trying to reassure her. She doesn’t buy it but thankfully leaves it alone.

We both fill our plates with small bits of everything. The room is shrouded in a deafening silence. I'm not sure what to say. I don't want to bring up the topic that's hanging over our heads. Once I do, that's it. Done.

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks, filling the silence. “I have water, wine or,” she moves towards the fridge, peering inside and then closing the door, “or wine.” She huffs a laugh. “Sorry, I don't have company over very much.”

Music to my ears.

“Dont worry. Water’s good for me, thanks.”

She fills a glass with ice and water and grabs her glass of wine and carries them over to the small table in front of her couch. I bring the plates and cutlery and sit next to her.

“Olivia, I-”

She cuts me off. “Let's just eat first, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how was practice?”

We take our time eating, falling into comfortable conversation. We carry on chats from earlier in the day. She used to be engaged to some guy when she lived in New York but when she found him with one of her friends, she left and never looked back. I learned that her parents are divorced. Have been since she was 9 years old, after her dad ran off with his mistress. One year later, her mom moved her and Olivia to the States.

“Do you still speak to your parents?” I asked, curiosity peaked.

“Not really, no.” She’d replied. “My mum started drinking right after the divorce and wasn't around much. It just got worse when we moved out here. Dad will text me on my birthday and Christmas but that’s all really.”