by Ellen Devlin
Chris knew he was staring but was temporarily unable to help himself. Paige was…beautiful. Exquisite. He had no idea what to say. He drank in the sight of her…thick, wavy, shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, green and gold eyes, stunning smile, and all those perfect, petite, curves.
“You look lovely.” It wasn’t quite a croak. Yay for him.
“Thank you.” She paused for a few seconds, not sure what to say to this man who was looking at her as if she were a work of art.
Liz stood up, intentionally breaking this spell, and said, “Okay, kids, have a nice time.” She turned to Chris, who had been startled but appeared to appreciate the interruption. “Don’t keep her out past curfew.” She turned to Paige and said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Paige rolled her eyes and laughed. Liz turned back to Chris and added, “Don’t worry, that actually sets very few limits.” Then she winked at him and walked off to her room.
Chris laughed—a warm, rich sound that Paige liked instantly—and turned to Paige. “Are you ready? I hope you’re hungry. DiNatali Brothers’ pasta is amazing.”
He didn’t know what had changed, but he felt a little more comfortable and less like he was at a middle school dance.
Paige responded, “I have never been, but I hear that it’s fantastic. And I’m definitely hungry.” Chris smiled and offered his arm to her. She took his arm, smiled back, and they set out.
***
“So, you know what I do for a living. What about you?” Chris sipped a glass of wine as they waited for their entrees. He finally felt like he was mostly in control of himself talking to her.
“I’m a high school English teacher.”
“Really?”
“You seem surprised. Why is that?” People always seemed surprised to learn that she taught high school.
“You’re just…I mean…you’re…” Shit. “You’re tiny. High school guys can be huge. And jerks.”
Paige laughed. She had suspected that was what he was going to say. “Teaching has a lot to do with self-confidence. Or at least the ability to fake it. Being able to control a class is an important part of being able to teach, and that’s true whether you’re five-foot-two or six-foot-one. Besides, I might be short, but I can be fierce.” She gave him her intimidating teacher look. “They only mess with me once.”
Chris was impressed. “I was just transported back to high school. Yikes.” He continued his questions. “English, though? I’m doubly impressed. Where did you go to school?”
“I got my bachelor’s degree from George Mason University. I keep thinking I’ll go back for my master’s degree, but I haven’t done it yet.” She looked at him and asked, “How about you? I know nothing about how hockey works. Did you go to college, or did you start playing right out of high school?”
“I went to the University of Minnesota. I was drafted by the Columbus Union when I was eighteen and then started playing for them as soon as I graduated from U of M.”
“What was your major? I’m assuming that ‘Hockey’ isn’t one of the options, right?”
Chris smiled. “I was a business major.”
Paige was impressed. This guy was definitely no dumb jock. “So, how did you end up here?”
“I was traded by Columbus to Washington a year ago. This is my second season with the Guardians.” He looked at her curiously and said, “So, do you really know nothing about hockey?”
Paige laughed and said, “Really. Nothing. Well, I know that there’s a puck and sticks and ice skates and the general idea is to get the puck into the net. But that’s where my knowledge ends. Liz is the hockey fan.” She paused and added thoughtfully, “You would think that I would have absorbed more knowledge simply from living with her, because she watches every game. I should have learned by osmosis at this point.”
Dinner had arrived, so conversation died down some while they ate. The restaurant was known for its homemade pasta dishes, and the ravioli Paige had ordered did not disappoint.
“Oh my God, this food is amazing. This was a great idea, Chris. Thank you.”
Chris felt a little pang in his chest, so pleased that she was enjoying herself. “I’m really glad you like it. Some of my teammates have been coming here for years and introduced me to this place. It’s been my favorite ever since.”
He sat back in his chair and watched her. Paige looked up to see him gazing at her, and he flushed a little, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.” He took a breath. “I’m finding it difficult not to stare. Sorry about that.”
Paige blushed a little herself. “That’s okay. You’ve been a perfect gentleman, and I’ve had a lovely dinner.”
“Do you want to stay for coffee? Maybe dessert?” Chris was silently begging her to say yes.
“Would you mind terribly if I passed on that offer?” Paige looked a little sheepish. “I’m actually quite full, and I’m getting sleepy. I know that sounds utterly lame, but during the school year, I’m on a much earlier schedule, and I end up going to bed at old-person times, I’m afraid. We’re right at the beginning of the school year, and I’m still adjusting.” Seeing the look on Chris’s face, she added hastily, “I’m having a wonderful time. I swear this has nothing to do with the company. I’m just afraid that I’ll turn into a pumpkin or fall asleep on you.”
Chris’s brain froze on the idea of her falling asleep while leaning against his chest, with his arms around her, and he suddenly had no idea what to say. His heart was racing, and all the blood was heading south in his body. He gave his head a quick shake, trying to rid himself of the oh-so-attractive image that idea had formed.
“No, no. Not at all. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.” He flagged down their waiter and asked for the bill. “Our games usually don’t start until seven at night, sometimes later, so I’m kind of on the opposite schedule. We will have a morning skate before games, but most things aren’t scheduled very early in the morning.”
They left the restaurant and strolled back to his car. Paige didn’t particularly want to hurry, even though she was the one cutting the evening short. They chatted a bit more as they walked, enjoying the quaint area and the lovely weather.
“So what are you teaching right now?” Chris asked. “I mean, English, obviously, but, like, any specific book that I might know?”
Paige was pleasantly surprised that he would ask. “Well, each grade has a different curriculum, but right now I’ve got the senior class working on some British poetry.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Chris responded. “Like Yeats?” Paige was surprised to the point where she stopped walking briefly and looked at him. “I mean,” Chris continued, “I know that he’s Irish, but I thought that maybe…”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She started walking again but looked at him curiously.
“What? Is that weird or something?”
Paige replied, “No, no. Not weird. I’m just surprised. Yeats isn’t particularly mainstream, I guess. He’s a little obscure, and I don’t meet many people that mention Yeats first off when thinking about British poetry.”
Chris gave her a little smile and said, “Well, in the interest of full disclosure, when I was in high school, I was really into a girl who liked poetry…”
Paige started laughing, and the sound was so genuine and free that Chris felt an immediate reaction in his chest—the warmth, the glow, the sheer pleasure of her laughter was like a physical touch.
He started laughing too but talked over her to say, “No, wait! It started that way, but I really ended up liking poetry.” She turned to him, eyes bright. “Really! It started for her, but I kept reading it for me.”
“Uh huh,” she teased. “Sure you did.”
“Really, Paige,” he insisted as their laughter died down. “My favorite poem is ‘He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven.’”
They had reached his car by this time. Paige cocked her head to the side slightly and said, “‘Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
/ Enwrought with golden and silver light…’”
Chris quirked a little smile and continued, “‘The blue and the dim and the dark cloths / Of night and light and the half light, / I would spread the cloths under your feet: / But I, being poor, have only my dreams; / I have spread my dreams under your feet…’”
His voice was soft and warm, and he spoke the poem in a way that showed his familiarity and appreciation of the verse, rather than just a recitation of the words.
Paige felt a flutter in her chest, and she finished quietly, “‘Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.’”
The moment stretched between them, strung along the lines of the poem, until Paige finally blinked and reached for the door handle.
Chris started out of the moment and reached past her, saying, “Please, Paige, let me,” as he opened her door.
“Thank you,” she replied, taking another moment to look at him as he got into the driver’s seat. So much about him was surprising and unexpected, and she was impressed.
When they arrived at the apartment complex, he opened the car door for her and walked her to the door of her apartment.
“I had a really nice time tonight, Chris. I’m glad you called.” He felt her smile like he was standing on a beach, all fresh air and sunshine.
“Me too.” He breathed out, looking at her a little sideways. “I almost didn’t.” She looked surprised. “I’m not sure if you could tell, but I’ve been more than a little nervous about this whole thing.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and gave her a small smile.
She smiled back, feeling that flutter in her chest again. He was disarmingly sweet, and this admission was kind of adorable. “I might have noticed. A little. I’m not sure I understand why, though. I try to only intimidate my students,” she teased. Chris looked genuinely surprised. “What?” she asked.
“You really don’t know why I’m nervous?” She shook her head. He felt his heart speed up, feeling slightly as if he was about to step off the edge of a cliff. He took a breath, looked into her eyes, and said, “Because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life.”
He looked up for a moment and breathed out. When he looked back down at her, Paige’s expression was rather unreadable. “Thank you for coming to dinner with me tonight, Paige. I would very much like to see you again. May I call you?”
Paige stared at him, stunned, trying to process what he had said. She hadn’t realized that she was taking a long time to respond to his question until Chris said, “I understand. You have my number if you change your mind. I really did enjoy tonight,” and then turned to walk away.
“Wait.” Paige reached for his arm. “Wait, please. I’m still stuck on your earlier comment. I didn’t mean to stand here not answering.” She took a deep breath against the butterflies and said, “I would like to see you again. Yes, please do call me.” She smiled at him a little shyly. “And thank you. I’ve never had anyone say anything like that to me before.”
“Really?” Chris’s heart was racing. His voice got a little husky as he said, “I find that hard to believe.”
His smile was a little shy and a little sexy, and the butterflies in her chest migrated lower.
“Really.” Her voice had gotten husky too. “And you’re quite easy on the eyes, yourself.” She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.
“I will call you, then.” He looked at her, put his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking, leaned over, and kissed her. Gently, sweetly, softly, his lips pressed against hers. “Good night, Paige.”
“Good night.” Her voice was a whisper, and she watched him as he walked back to his car. He turned, gave her a little smile that made her insides flip, and she went in and closed the apartment door, standing with her back against it.
Chapter Three
Liz was sitting curled up on the couch reading a book and looked up when Paige walked in. She opened her mouth to ask how things went but then closed it again when she saw the look on Paige’s face as she leaned back against the door.
Paige turned and looked at her. Her eyes were wide, and she just shook her head a little and then walked over and sat down on the other end of the couch.
She finally just said, “Wow.”
Liz smiled.
***
Chris sat in his car and put his head back, willing his heart rate to slow down. Then he grinned to himself, started the car, and set off back to his apartment. On the way, he called Micky.
“Hey, Becks, what’s up?” It sounded like Micky was in the locker room—Chris looked at the clock and realized his game must have only just finished.
“Micky, sorry, man, I can call back.”
“No worries. I’m all finished. Just leaving now.”
“Did you win?”
Micky scoffed. “Of course we won, you asshole. Now, why did you call? Oh, shit, it’s Friday. What happened? Wait, why are you not still out with her? Did it bomb?”
“No, no, it was great. Amazing, actually. She’s a high school teacher, so she normally goes to bed really early during the school year, so I took her home right after dinner.”
Micky chuckled. “And that ranks as amazing in your book?”
Chris got serious. “It was fucking amazing, Micky. And she said she wants to see me again.”
“Well, that’s a good start, then.” Micky was amused by the intensity. This woman was obviously under Chris’s skin already. “Did you kiss her good night at least?” He couldn’t resist asking the teasing question and was surprised by Chris’s answer.
“Yeah,” Chris breathed out. “One kiss. One fucking amazing kiss that felt like a goddamn bolt of lightning.” He paused for a second. “Shit, Micky.”
“Shit is right, my friend. It sounds like you are well and truly fucked.” He chuckled to himself. “Or definitely that you want to be.”
Chris laughed, and the tension was broken. “Shut the fuck up.” And then he added, “Thanks, Mick. This is some crazy shit.”
“No worries, my brother. It will be fine. You’re a good guy. You deserve to find someone. It’s about fucking time.”
“Take care, man. Talk to you later.”
“Sounds good. Hey, Becks, let me know what happens. And if she has a sister. Preferably one that lives in Montreal. You know, all the important stuff.”
***
Liz waited while Paige gathered her thoughts.
“Dinner was lovely. Delicious food—that place lives up to the hype—and engaging and interesting conversation.” She looked at Liz. “He’s the same age as we are and was a business major at the University of Minnesota.”
Liz looked amused and asked, “Why are you home so early, Paige? If you were having fun, why not stay out a while?”
“I don’t know. I told him that I go to bed really early during the school year.”
“Okay, well, that’s true, but not on Friday nights usually.” Liz pressed a little harder. “Not this early, anyway. What gives?”
“I’m not sure. He was so…admiring. It was a little unnerving.” At Liz’s questioning look, she added with a smile, “Not in a psychopath way. I wasn’t frightened or worried or anything like that. It just felt…I don’t know, intense.”
Liz kept looking at her. Her look kept changing slightly, as if she was asking specific questions.
Paige said, “Just intense!”
Another look from Liz.
“Stop that. I don’t know.”
One more questioning look.
“Okay, I am really attracted to him! There, I’ve said it. I’m very attracted to him, and I made him take me home early because it’s kind of freaking me out.”
Liz smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. So,” she continued, “tell me why you looked completely overwhelmed when you came in the door.”
Paige blushed. “He kissed me.”
Liz’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead, at the blush as much as the comment. She waited for Paige to continue, but nothing more
appeared to be forthcoming. “Are you saying you’re blushing like that because he kissed you? Just how much kissing are we talking about?”
Paige looked at her best friend and said, “One kiss. Just one small kiss.” Liz looked surprised, and Paige added, “It was amazing. I think I understand now the concept of sparks between people. It felt like…electricity. Like touching a live wire.”
“Please tell me that you’re going out with him again.”
It was Paige’s turn to smile.
***
Chris lay in bed looking at the ceiling, vaguely wondering how soon was too soon to call her again. He wasn’t sure he cared, though. He felt himself grin, knowing that he would probably call her tomorrow.
He was trying to sleep, but his mind just wouldn’t go more than a few minutes without thinking about kissing her. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Micky it felt like lightning. It had shot straight through his entire body, igniting every nerve ending.
At some point he just gave up, realizing that he was never going to get to sleep without some additional assistance. There was just too much going on in his head, and that was sending too many signals south of his belt. Since he couldn’t stop thinking about her, he just gave in. He reached down, thought about that kiss, stroked himself, finishing much faster than he thought he would, and easily fell asleep soon after.
***
The game the next day was at three in the afternoon, so there had been no morning skate. Chris was warming up with the team but having some trouble focusing. This did not go unnoticed by his line-mate, Jakob Zimmerman.
“What’s with your head, Becks?” Zee asked after Chris shanked an easy shot.
“Shit, Zee.” He took a breath and focused. This was not the time to let outside thoughts wander in his head, no matter how gorgeous those outside thoughts were. “Sorry, man. Having trouble with focus. I’ll get it together.”
