by Tharp, Emma
The line of traffic ahead of me has my knuckles white around the steering wheel. I should've allowed for more time. An asshole in a yellow sports car darts in front of me and I slam my brakes so I don't smash into the back of his asshole-mobile. It's only a lunch date, but I hate being late. Especially when it's with my mother.
It doesn't help my frustration that I had to leave Lora's apartment last night with an aching hard-on. But she was so drunk and I was not going to take advantage of her. Been there, done that. It won't happen again. I probably shouldn't be thinking the thoughts I've been thinking about her. About how much I want to be with her physically, but it's also more than that. She's been my friend forever—even though we had our little four-year hiatus—and I love everything about her. And now she stirs a need so deep in me that it scares me.
The traffic eventually speeds up and I’m able to make it to the restaurant, only fifteen minutes late.
It’s a warm fall day, something that didn’t happen often when I lived in New York. The leaves on the trees lining the road are all burnt orange and yellow. Sounds of the bustling city fill the air: beeping horns, the commotion of people moving along the streets. This is what I missed in quiet Potsdam, New York. The city. A smile spreads across my face as I put change in the meter and jog into my mom's favorite French bistro.
She's sitting at a corner table, and she sees me as soon as I walk in and waves me over.
My mother stands up, walks up to me, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. There’s a slight tinge of olive on her breath. She’s already ordered a drink. "The traffic was brutal today, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Sorry I'm late. I should've left earlier."
We both take our seats at the table. "Don't worry about it. I just got here a couple of minutes ago. I thought I was going to be late, too. I got held up in court this morning." She rolls her eyes.
My mother is one hell of a defense lawyer and has an insane record for winning cases. It is truly her passion. "How was court?"
"Great. It was stressful, but we won the case." Her blue eyes sparkle. "How has practice been going?"
It's only been a month of off-season training, but so far, it's been everything that I've dreamed. A great group of talented men coming together to play the best sport on earth. "So far so good. All of the guys on my team are great. I can't wait for the season to start and play my first game."
The waitress stops by our table and drops off two tall glasses of ice water and a basket of bread. She takes our orders and walks away.
"You remind me so much of your dad. You’re both so very passionate about hockey." She lifts the spear out of her glass and pulls the last olive off with her teeth.
"I learned from the best." Vivid memories surface of my dad driving me to practice before dawn when I was a young boy all the way up through high school. He's always been one of my coaches and a mentor to me.
"Speaking of hockey, your dad and I are going to meet Alex and Cole for dinner. It's always so much fun for us to catch up with his old teammates." She takes the wrapper off her straw and pops it in her water glass.
My heart thuds in my chest. Alex and Cole are Lora's parents. "What would you say if I told you I'd like to date Loralei?" It’s an understatement. Ever since I saw her at my party, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. And the way she kissed me last night, like she would have thrown off her clothes and screwed me right there in her kitchen, that’s something I won’t soon be forgetting. But is that all she wants from me? Sex? I don’t know. And in the bright light of day, would she even want that? So many unanswered questions. It’s my mission to figure out all the answers.
Mom’s eyes widen. "Your dad and I could tell that you were smitten with her the other night. But after your party, we talked about it and both agree that we're not so sure that's a good idea. Cole might find you and kill you if you hurt her."
Rubbing at the scruff on my chin, I shake my head. "I already did. I want to make it up to her." I realize most guys probably don't talk to their parents about women, but mine have such an amazing relationship and I want exactly what they have. I respect both of their opinions.
Mom clutches her chest giving me a discerning look. "Oh, Nick. Be careful. She didn't have it easy with her ex. Did you know she was engaged?"
Now it's my turn to widen my eyes. My blood starts to boil under my skin. She was going to get married to someone. How could I have not known that? Maybe because you didn’t call and talk to her at all while you were away. "No. I had no idea. What did he do to her?"
She rests her hand on my forearm. "Relax. He wasn't physical with her—well, not that I know of. But it wasn't good. So, unless you're serious, maybe you should pick someone else to date."
I think that's going to be impossible. Now that I've seen her, kissed her, I can't get her off my mind.
If she does give me a second chance, I’m going to have to step up my game and prove myself to her. Show her that I’m better than the guy I was when I left to go to Clarkson, and that I’m a hell of a lot better than her ex.
Six
Loralei
"Your voice is amazing," I tell Lydia as she passes me the saltshaker.
"Thank you. I'm glad you both could make it tonight," Lydia says.
Mom drags a piece of her bread around in her balsamic and olive oil dip. "We wouldn't miss it. I've always been a huge Lydia Crow fan."
Tonight, my mom and I went to see one of her dearest friends, Lydia Crow, country music superstar, play an intimate charity concert. Lydia is married to Wes Jacobson, one of Dad's old teammates who used to play for the Wolverines with him.
"How are you settling in now that you're back home? And how’s your new job?" Lydia asks. She’s got an elegant grace about her, in the way she sits, holds her wine glass—all of her mannerisms.
"It's really great to be home. I love my new apartment and my new job." A smile spreads across my face and I can't help myself. Ever since I got back, I finally feel like I can breathe again. Being away from Tyler is good for my overall wellbeing. "How is Jacob doing?"
"He's wonderful. He got into UMass Amherst and will be playing hockey there next year. It's amazing how he is 50% me and 50% his father. He loves hockey like Wes, but he's amazing at the piano as well." Lydia beams and her voice is so full of love and emotion.
Mom had told me that Lydia and Wes are almost twenty years apart in age, but in their case, age didn't make a difference. They fell in love, got married, and the rest is history. You'd never know there is an age difference when you see them together. Lydia is older, but doesn't seem to age, and she and Wes have never let that come between them.
"Isn't it wonderful seeing our children thrive? And so many of our sons are playing hockey just like their fathers." Mom swirls her fork in her pasta and puts the bite in her mouth.
"Agreed. And isn’t it exciting that Nick Parker got drafted? We’ll all need to go to a game this fall," Lydia says.
My heart stops at the mention of Nick. Heat creeps up my neck, and my face feels like it’s on fire thinking about him and the kiss we shared. All of a sudden it’s too hot and my feet start to cramp in my new designer heels. I fidget in my seat, partly from discomfort and partly from embarrassment when he turned me down last weekend. I should know better, but I can't help the way my body responds around him. I’ve got a school-girl crush that’s continued into an adult crush. I'm going to have to do my best to steer clear of him from now on.
Mom nods. "Yes, now that would be fun." Her attention turns to me. "I always thought you'd end up together. You always played together and got along so well growing up."
All I can do is give her a halfhearted smirk. My focus remains on my steak salad, but I can't help but agree with her. It was always my dream to end up with Nick Parker. It's too bad I keep throwing myself at him only to be left embarrassed. I am so done with that. "Did I tell you he moved in my building and lives down the hall from me?" I blurt out, because I can’t think of anything else to say abo
ut Nick.
Mom clasps her hands together. "Are you kidding?" Her voice is too loud for the restaurant. "Isn't that something? Such a huge coincidence. In a city this big that the two of you end up in the same building."
That's exactly what I thought when I found out. "I know. Weird coincidence." Or cruel and unusual punishment.
Lydia, Mom, and I chat about Lydia’s upcoming tour of a few intimate venues and about Mom’s thriving pediatric practice. I’m distracted by thoughts of Nick—like how good it feels to kiss him, and how even though I was drunk, I could feel how much he enjoyed kissing me, too—for the rest of the meal, but do my best to stay involved in the conversation. We finish eating and make promises to stay in touch.
Mom and I walk together to our cars.
"Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time." I lean in to give my mother a hug.
"It was so nice for you to join me. I'm not sure if I mentioned how proud I am of you for everything you’ve accomplished."
Since I've been home, Mom's been quite sentimental. I know she feels awful about how things turned out between Tyler and me. When she found out he proposed, she all but started planning the wedding. She might’ve been more disappointed by our break-up than I was until I shared with her just how controlling he had been. "Thanks, Mom. If you don't mind, I'm going to head home now." I can't wait to kick these heels off—I spent way too much money on them and they’re incredibly uncomfortable—and put my pjs on.
"Of course, honey. Stop by the house this week. Dad and I will make you dinner."
"That sounds great, Mom." I kiss her on the cheek and turn toward my car.
My heel gets caught on the edge of the sidewalk while my body turns in the opposite direction. A sharp shooting pain jolts up my leg like an electric shock and before I know it, I land square on my ass clutching my ankle.
Seven
Nick
I’m done unpacking for the day. Sure, there’s more left to do, but I’ve had enough and I’m starving.
The apartment is quiet. I’m still getting used to that. Back in college, I had four roommates. We rented a house and it was always full of people. Whether it was all of us getting together for drinks before a party or a group of friends that would hang out to watch a movie, it was always loud and chaotic. I miss the noise, but not the smell of stale food or dudes’ dirty laundry.
I turn the TV on and go to the kitchen to see what there is to eat. Leftover chicken and veggies from dinner will do the trick. I don’t even bother heating it up.
Sitting on the couch, I flip through the sports channels and stop on a popular show that Marcus Reid commentates. Tonight, it’s all about hockey rookies this year. My chest swells with pride when he mentions my name and the predictions for the amazing year I'm slated to have with the Nashville Wolverines. I'm not sure why my parents always talk about Marcus negatively when he's on television. They would always scroll past him and never watch his show. He seems like he does a good job to me.
I pop a bite of chicken in my mouth when my cell phone rings. It's Alex Shaw, Lora's mother. What could she want?
"Hello, Mrs. Shaw," I say and sit back, putting my feet up on the coffee table.
“Are you home?" There's urgency in her tone.
I sit up and lean my elbows on my knees. "Yeah, I'm home. What's up?"
"Do you mind coming down the hall to Loralei’s apartment?"
I don't like the way she sounds. I check my watch. It’s ten o’clock. My heart drops. I'm up on my feet, hustling out my door and making my way to her apartment. "I'll be there in one second."
A few sharp raps to the door and heels click on the other side of it.
Mrs. Shaw, who always looks beautiful and put together seems frazzled. Not that her clothes aren’t impeccable, but her eyes dart around the room and she’s chewing on her thumbnail. "Thank you for getting here so quickly. Come in."
"What happened?" I ask as I make my way into the apartment. Lora is lying on the couch with her foot propped up on a pillow and a bag of ice resting on her ankle.
Lora's forehead is pinched tight when she says, "My new heels made me fall and twist my ankle. We went to the ER to get it X-rayed and it’s not broken, just sprained. You really don't have to be here. My mother's overreacting."
Mrs. Shaw takes a seat on the chair next to the couch. "No, I'm not, dear. You're not supposed to be bearing weight on it. You're going to need help. Nick is right down the hall. He can help out." She turns her attention to me. "Right, Nick?"
I kneel on the floor next to Lora’s ankle. Her foot is swollen along with the outer portion of her ankle. "Of course."
"Great. She's going to need a ride tomorrow to physical therapy. Her dad and I have plans. If you're busy we can change them. Do you have time?" She raises her eyebrow and gives me a questioning gaze.
Thinking through my practice schedule, I realize I do have tomorrow off and quite a bit of free time for the next month until the regular season begins. "Sure, I can help out. Anything she needs." And I mean that. Maybe showing her how much she means to me will have us moving in the right direction—at least toward the friendship we once had if not something more.
Lora puts her head in her hands as if she's absolutely mortified that I'm going to be helping her out.
Mrs. Shaw springs up out of her seat and goes into the kitchen, bringing back a couple of pill bottles. She arranges them on the end table next to Lora. "Wonderful. She had dinner, and I'm going to drop off groceries tomorrow. Need anything else before I go home?"
Lora lets out a long, slow sigh. "No, Mom. I'm fine. Thank you for everything. You can go, too, Nick."
"That's okay. I'll stay and make sure everything is all taken care of."
Alex comes up to me and squeezes my shoulder. "You are the best, Nick." She hands me a key. "This is a spare to her apartment. Since she won't be able to get up and down quickly for a while. I'm going to head home now. Please give me a call if you need me." She kisses her daughter on the cheek and leaves.
"Seriously, I'm fine. My mother is completely overreacting." Lora pushes up on her arms and attempts to shift her body. She scrunches her face and winces.
"Do you need some fresh ice? Some more pain meds?" I remove the bag off her foot that’s mostly water now. "That's a nasty shade of purple."
"It's fine."
It clearly isn't. I make my way to the kitchen and fill the bag full. "Here." I gently set it on her ankle. "Do you need me to adjust the pillows?"
She picks up her phone and stares at it like she’s reading fascinating news. "Nope. You're free to go."
She's completely blocking me out and I don’t like it. "Okay. You sure you don't need anything else before I leave?"
"No."
"Call if you need…”
"Got it," she tells me in a flat cold tone.
I nod and make my way to the door. She might be kicking me out now, but I don't give up that easy.
The next morning, I arrive at Lora's door with bagels and coffee. I knock before I use the key.
"Come in.” I hear her say before I make my way inside.
She’s still on the couch, her bag of ice is all water now and she’s in the same shorts and T-shirt. It doesn't appear that she's moved since I left her last night. "You didn't go to your bed to sleep?" I hand her a coffee.
"No." She looks up at me, her cheeks tinge pink. "It hurt too much to move so I stayed here with the exception of a bathroom break."
It's beyond me why she's being so damn stubborn. I could've helped her into bed. She would've been so much more comfortable. "Do you need your pain meds?"
"No, Mom left them here." She points at the end table.
"Good. I'm making breakfast. Still like blueberry bagels toasted with butter?" I ask.
This earns me the first smile I've seen on her face in a very long time, although it was fleeting. I make my way into the kitchen and pop two bagels in the toaster. When they are hot and browned, I add butter, not too much, bu
t just the way she likes it. I carry the plate into the living room along with a glass of water. Setting a plate in front of her, I say, "Bon appétit."
Her shoulders are tight, but even with a scowl on her face and messy hair, she still takes my breath away. "I wasn't kidding, Nick. I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself."
I have a seat on the chair next to the couch and fix my gaze on her. "Listen, I’ve sprained my ankle before. Don't you remember, it was in gym class—the badminton unit? It's no joke, I can still remember how bad it hurt. I can help you. It really isn't a problem."
She twists her body so she's facing me. "We can stop pretending that everything is okay here. I know it isn’t."
I get up and sit on the end of the couch so she doesn't have to twist her neck to look at me. "Please explain what's wrong. I know things have been strained between us since we first saw each other at my party."
She crosses her arms and gives me a hard smile. "Sure. We can start with you pushing me away. How about that?"
If I didn't care for her so much, her behavior would be maddening. But I do, and I understand it. I’ve got a lot to make up for. "Are you really mad at me for that?"
She pushes up her sleeves as if she's readying for battle. "I’m mortified."
"Let me spell things out for you in case they aren't clear. I want you. And every kiss we've shared has lit me up, but I'm not taking advantage of you again."
Her breath hitches and her skin flushes. “Are you kidding?"
I lean in and kiss her because I can't stop myself and it's all I want to do. It's slow and deep and I hope it conveys to her how much I’m not kidding. "Does that feel like a joke to you?"
She shakes her head.
"Good. Eat your breakfast, and then I’m going to get you ready for PT."
Eight
Nick
With my hammer in one hand and lunch in the other, I knock on Lora's door.
"Come in.” I hear her call out.
