Page 5

“I’m actually coming to visit Mel in a few weeks. The three of us should hang out! It’ll be just like old times.”

“Uh, sure.” I scratch my head. “I haven’t seen Mel since last Christmas.”

“Yeah, it’s been difficult to get together with us all living in different cities. It’ll be way easier now.”

I realize I’ve absently been pacing in circles around my living room and stop, forcing myself to sit on my leather sofa. “Honestly, man, we haven’t talked much since I got drafted back in college.”

“Yeah, I noticed you guys barely talked at Christmas. What happened? You used to be so close.”

Wiping my now sweaty palms on my jeans, I reply, “Well, college was busy with homework and practice… then I got drafted and moved to Canada.” I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “I lost touch with a lot of people, Melanie being one of them.”

The thought of seeing Melanie again makes my heart speed up like I just did skating drills for an hour.

“Oh,” Harrison says, his voice laced with disappointment. “Well, now you guys are practically neighbors, so it’s the perfect time to reacquaint yourselves!”

My shoulders tense. I know I hurt her all those years ago when I called her and told her I didn’t feel the same way. It was such a lie, but she bought it so easily, which almost made it worse. She tried to convince me her recording meant nothing and she was just drugged up, but Melanie never says things she doesn’t mean. I don’t think even a drug-induced stupor could change that.

Harrison interrupts my thoughts. “Well, I know you probably just got home from practice, so I’ll let you go. See you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah, man, can’t wait.” I smile; I’ve missed hanging out with Harrison, I’ll see him way more now that we’re in the same country.

I can hear him clear his throat through the phone. “Hey, try to keep an eye on my little sister for me, will you?”

With my free hand, I rub the back of my neck, which is now as sweaty as my palms. “Of course, I’d do anything for Mel,” I answer honestly.

We hang up, and I sit on the couch staring blankly at the kitchen before closing my eyes. I picture Mel, with her hair color that’s uniquely her, not quite brunette but not quite blonde. Something in between that just suits her perfectly. Her bright blue eyes that are so wide they always draw me in. And those kissable lips, like a cupid’s bow, so pink and pouty. I’ve had dreams about kissing those lips way too many times.

I’ve never known what to do with my feelings for Mel, I always assumed they’d go away and I’d move on. But anyone I’ve ever dated has paled in comparison to her.

Maybe seeing her will be good. I’ve probably romanticized the idea of her after all these years. Only remembering the good things and not the annoying things about her… like how she has to schedule every moment of the day, or how meticulously she makes sure everything is straight and perfect, or how about how she always smells like essential oils??

We’ll probably see each other as past acquaintances, and there won’t be any spark between us at all. I mean it has been five years since we really hung out. Sure, we’ve seen each other in passing when we’re home for the holidays since our parents still live next door to each other, but our interactions have remained surface level, the kind of conversations where you ask how the other is and you both reply, “good,” then talk about the weather for a minute before excusing yourself.

She probably has a boyfriend too. My mouth twists at the thought.

With a deep sigh, I hoist myself up off the couch and trudge up the two flights of stairs to my large master bedroom. I go straight to my dresser, open the top drawer and pull out my old laptop from college. Making myself comfortable on my bed, I power on the computer and watch the video Melanie sent me when she was eighteen.

Yes, I saved it on my computer. No, I’m not going to admit how many times I’ve watched it.

I can’t help but smile as I watch; this loopy version of Mel is so freaking cute. I pause the video after she says, “I’m in love with you,” and stare at her pretty face for a few seconds.

Slamming the laptop shut, I toss it away from me on the bed. Why do I torture myself like this?

I remind myself of the list of annoying things about Mel I mentally made earlier: schedules, neat-freak, essential oils.

Looking down at my luxurious king size bed that’s now rumpled from my resting on it, I remember the heckling my teammates gave me about how much action this room is going to see.

If only they knew the only action this room will see is me sleeping. Alone. I’ve dated a lot of women, gorgeous women, sometimes models. But none of them have even come close to Melanie, the girl I’ve been pining over most of my life.

Closure. That’s what I need. I’ll hang out with Mel again in a few weeks and then I can move on with my life.

CHAPTER THREE

MELANIE

After coming to the bottom of the steps in the D.C. metro, my heels screech to a halt. My face twists in annoyance as I take in the gigantic poster advertising the start of the D.C. Eagle’s NHL season. The Eagles are a big deal here in the capital, but I’ve done my best to ignore anything hockey-related the past few years, thanks to a certain someone.

The same certain someone whose handsome face is staring back at me from the poster taking up an entire wall in the metro. Yep, Weston Kershaw just had to sign a contract with the D.C. Eagles once his time ended with the Quebec Wolverines. Here I’ve spent the past five years trying my best to avoid him, just to end up living in the same city.