Ding dong.
“Oh, that’s the pizza.” Mom perks up, brushing her hands through her hair.
It’s the same pizza guy who always delivers to our house. He’s a bit of a silver fox, really, not that I’m into older men. I think he’s into my mother though. He always makes a point of chatting with her about random things.
“So, of course I couldn’t leave her there,” he says. “I brought her back home with me and named her Nermal.” I overhear him at the door.
“Oh, like the cat from Garfield?” Mom asks.
“You know, you’re the first person who got that?”
Mom laughs, but it’s higher pitched. It sounds weird. “Well, that’s because I’m old. I remember reading Garfield in the funnies section of the newspaper.”
“I think you’re too pretty to be calling yourself old,” he answers. Sly dog.
Mom finally pays the guy and brings the pizza in the kitchen. She looks all rosy and cheerful. He might not realize how old she is because she looks about ten years younger when she talks to him.
“Pizza guy flirting with you again?” I raise an eyebrow.
“What? James? No, he’s just a nice guy. It’s too bad he’s widowed. He’ll make someone very happy.” She puts the box down on the counter.
“Someone like you?” I try to give her the nudge she needs.
“Oh, no. Not me.”
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to go out on some dates, mom.”
“Oh, I don’t have time for that. Dates are a younger person’s game. Who has that kind of energy? Anyway, enough about that. Here, get some pizza. Grab a beer. I hope you don’t mind olives on pizza, Blaze. Priscilla and I like them, but, if you don’t, I won’t think you’re rude if you pick them off.”
“I would eat just about anything on a pizza crust.” Blaze laughs, piling his plate high with 4 pieces.
I lead him to the living room, and we all sit on the floor using the coffee table as our family dinner table. Mom digs into her first slice, and we all start eating. I don’t know how many slices of pizza she and I have eaten like this, but it’s probably in the thousands. Mom has done a good job raising me on her own. No mother-daughter relationship is perfect. We’ve had our moments like everyone else, but I love her dearly.
“So, Pricilla tells me you’re going to the frosty four?”
“Frozen Four.” I’m not sure why I remind her. I’ve told her the name a bunch of times, but Frosty has already been cemented in her mind.
“Yep, we’ve made the finals.” Blaze doesn’t care that Mom doesn’t remember the name. He looks happy that she’s making an effort.
“That’s gotta be a cool feeling.” Mom picks up her beer but lets the bottle hang from her fingertips as she closes her eyes.
“It’s probably the same as in your job, or any job. There are highs and lows.” He plays it down.
“I’m a dental hygienist. I’m battling plaque and gingivitis so it’s not exactly David and Goliath stuff.” Mom laughs. “Yours is like do or die. Hero or zero.”
“Mom!” I cut her off. I don’t want to get in his head two days before the big game.
“It’s a lot to carry in your head all at the same time. That’s why training isn’t just skates and weights. It’s also things like mindfulness and visualization.”
“Okay, I’ve heard of visualization. That’s like dream boards and whispering your secret desires to the universe and all that stuff, right? That sounds a bit Himalayan-salt-lamp healer-ish. I didn’t think you guys would be using that new age stuff.”
“No.” Blaze laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe some guys are doing their visualizations with that lamp thingy and crystals, but that’s not part of it. It’s more like you imagining taking that winning shot. Really seeing all the details in your head. Bonus points if you think you can feel the cold from the rink,” he jokes.
“Ah, okay. And that helps you win games?”
“It helps with focus.” He nods and takes a big bite off his pizza slice.
“So, what’s mindfulness then?”
“That’s more thinking,” he answers around the bite. “Helps with stress.”
“I don’t think I’ve done mindfulness. Have you, hun?” Mom turns her attention to me.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head.
I never think of Blaze as being stressed out. Causing stress? All day, every day. He’s just not the typical type of uptight I think of when I imagine someone under a lot of pressure. Pressure like playing college hockey. Stress like losing a brother. I can’t believe I never realized before just how hard it is to be Blaze. I guess that’s the thing with those big swinging-dick alpha types; they’re not big on sharing their feelings. Or even admitting they have them. It’s actually too bad. Maybe if Blaze was more open about his struggles, he wouldn’t spend his life in self-destruct mode.
Mom says, “Show me.” She crosses her legs and sits taller, closing her eyes. “What do I do?” She lifts her crinkled lid to peek at him.
“Sure. So you can do it that way, just focus on your breath. Try to only notice your breathing. Nothing else. Just how it feels filling your lungs and then slowly letting it back out, like you’re breathing through a straw.” Blaze guides her like some Zen Master.
Mom keeps her eyes shut, but she starts frowning, “What happens when random thoughts happen?”
“It takes practise, but you’re supposed to notice them and let them go by.”
“So, is the idea to get your mind down to one thought?”
“Basically, yeah. It helps you focus on one task and stay in the present. You know, like all those hashtag cliches you find on Instagram posts. Except, it really does work,” Blaze answers.
Mom opens her eyes and stops sitting like a Kindergartener on a rug at circle time. “Oh, jeez,” she moans. “I can’t sit like that anymore, oof.” She moves over to the couch with her beer and takes a seat. “Thanks for showing me that, Blaze. It sounds like mindfulness would be really helpful in a lot of situations.” Mom looks over at me, “You should get him to harness that. You know, like, clitorially speaking.”
Blaze almost spits out the last swig of beer he was finishing. He chokes a bit as he manages not to spit it out on the carpet.
Mom gives me a look that just makes the blood rush to my face faster. Once again, she sails over my boundaries like an Olympic high jumper.
“Mom, seriously?”
“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Alright, I think that’s enough pizza and beer for me.” I stand up. “Blaze, how about we go for a walk.
Blaze has gotten his coughing under control. I don’t know if that’s why he’s so pink or if my mother has actually made him blush. “Sounds good.” He gets up, and we head to the door.
“It was nice seeing you again, Blaze,” Mom calls out.
“You too,” he answers.
“Let’s go.” I lead him to the front hall and put my winter gear on in a hurry. It’s not until we step outside, and I leave my mother and her embarrassing comments behind me, that my face finally stops burning.
24
Busted for Bustin’
Blaze
“I’m sorry about my mother. She can be a bit much.” Prissy walks beside me down the sidewalk about a half pace quicker than me, like she’s trying to put space between her and the embarrassment.
I grab her hand and slow her down until we’re side-by-side. “That’s better.” I smile. “Don’t worry about your Mom. I think she’s cool.” I try to reassure her.
“She is. It’s just… she’s one of a kind.” Prissy sighs like she’s letting it go. The stress or whatever is eating at her, she breathes it out.
“That just makes her more interesting.” I shrug. “I think it’s great that you two are so tight. I haven’t seen that many parents who are so open with their kids. Most of them have a hard time accepting that we’re grown.”
“Yeah, that’s true. She’s never been th
at mom who tries to keep her kid a baby forever, that’s for sure. I just wish she’d take more of an interest in her own life, though. Maybe if she would go out on some dates she could meet someone who matches her kind of crazy.” Prissy laughs.
“You need to get her hooked up on Tinder,” I agree.
“Eww.” Prissy crinkles her nose.
“Yeah, you’re right. Besides, she sounds like she’s been out of the dating scene for a while. Putting her on Tinder would basically be throwing her to the wolves.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure there’s good guys on there.” She squints half her face like she’s not sure of that at all.
“Ever meet any?” I look over at her.
“Well, that’s where I met Damon.”
“Don’t you mean Harry Douche-Nozzle?”
“The third,” she states in an exaggerated stuffy British voice and giggles. I can’t help but smile when she does.
“Yeah, he’s exactly the kind of wolves I’m talking about.”
“Fair enough.” She nods.
It’s a nice night, but we seem to be the only ones crazy enough to go out walking in it. I guess it is a bit on the cold side, but it’s got nothing on the Witch’s Tit. That place has grizzled me against the arctic temperatures.
We walk up around the block. The houses are all nice but pretty much identical. The brick constructions have very few differences between them. The only things that really stand out are the brightly colored front doors. They cry out for attention, telling me everything I need to know about the individuals who live inside.
It’s so much of the same thing with each house that my eye is caught by the little building down the road we turn onto next. Well, not so much the building as what’s behind it.
“Are you kidding me?” I point over at the empty, darkened ice rink. The flood lights surrounding it are all out. The wood board walls cast shadows making the ice look black.
“What?” She looks over. “Oh.”
“You grew up one block away from a rink, and you never learned to skate?”
We walk up toward the community center building. With no lights on and no cars in the parking lot, it’s clear that no one is around. The rink beside it is a good size. And it’s completely empty.
“We didn’t always live here. We started out in a bachelor apartment, and Mom worked her ass off to move us up to this. Money was really tight when I was a kid. Like powdered milk and groceries from the fifty percent off section type of poor. So, she couldn’t afford to put me in sports or activities that cost a lot or that I’d outgrow every year.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. The fact that your mom pulled that off is pretty fucking incredible. You must be proud of her.”
“I am.” She beams. Her eyes shine under the moonlight. “It wasn’t like it was all bad either. I spent a lot of time at parks and doing hikes in nature, all that free stuff. Plus, I can play a mean frisbee.” She looks up at me.
This street is dead. I tug Prissy by the hand, walking toward the outdoor arena.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on.” I keep walking. “Let me show you the basics.”
“What, we don’t have skates. It’s not even open,” Prissy protests, looking around like a fugitive.
“We don’t need them, I can still show you some things.”
“Yeah, that didn’t turn out so great last time. Another fall like that and I’ll snap my tailbone.”
“I promise I won’t let go of you, no matter what.”
“It’s closed.”
“Pfft. You think that little wall can keep us out?”
“See, this is why I shouldn’t have gone so easy on you. I let you have a beer or two, and now you want me to break the law with you? “
“Break the law? Chill. Come on, just trust me.”
We reach the edge of the rink. I plant my hands on the edge and swing my ass up, balancing on the wall. “I’ll help you over.” I hold my hand out to her.
Prissy bites her lip and frowns. She looks up at me, then glances around the neighborhood again and sighs. “Okay, but not for long. And you can’t let go of my hand… ever.”
“I promise.”
She puts her gloved hand in mine, and I pull her up with me. I circle her waist with my free hand as she finds her balance. It takes a bit, but she gets herself turned around so her feet are dangling over the ice, and I ease her down. She grabs the top of the wall with one hand and keeps her other one squeezed in mine, and I jump down, joining her.
“Alright, that was probably the toughest part, honestly,” I try to erase the worry etched on Prissy’s face. Even though it’s dark, the moon is doing a fine job of reminding me how fucking sexy she is.
“Somehow I doubt that.” She looks down at the ice and barely shuffles forward.
“No, seriously. This is easy. Look, just push off with this foot and let yourself glide across. Like this.” I push forward under control, taking Prissy along for the ride.
“Oh!” She stiffens up behind me.
“Relax.” I come to a stop and hold her steady. “Now you try.”
“I don’t think that was much of a lesson. Like, I know I’ve been skating since I was born or whatever, but how about you just levitate across this ice like me.” She does a bad job mocking me.
“Don’t be scared.” I can see what’s really going on here. “I promise, I got you. Just try.”
Prissy takes a deep breath. She looks out at the scratch-covered ice and then up to the sky. I’m not sure if she’s soaking in the moon and stars or praying.
“Fine. I’ll try,” she finally responds.
She places her foot diagonal, like I did, but wobbles a bit. She doesn’t have the boards to push off, and she doesn’t have the skill to do it without them, so she uses me instead. Prissy drops my hand and pushes back against me and then frantically grasps for me behind her when she starts to ease forward like the world’s slowest curling rock.
I grab a hold and easily move forward at her pace just walking next to her.
“There. Happy?” She looks over at me.
“I’m proud of you.” Prissy searches my face like she’s not sure if there’s a punchline coming. There isn’t.
“I’m proud of me too.” She nods.
“Good. Now hold on.” I grab her other hand pulling her in until her face is less than a foot from mine. I lean in slowly, and she moves her head back a bit, expecting my kiss. Instead, I hold her tightly and swirl her around in a circle, sliding her across the ice. She struggles to keep her balance, but finds her flow when I twirl her around.
“Stop,” she begs. “Too many circles. I’m getting dizzy,” Prissy cries out.
“Alright, I got you.” I pull her in tight to me. Prissy looks up at me, and this time I can’t fucking keep my lips off her. Not when she looks at me like that. Her mouth is soft and warm, and I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with my cock, but that’s apparently enough. It pulses and goes half hard just from a kiss.
It’s not enough to kiss her. I want to possess her mouth. Her heat radiates out, warming my skin. I turn her toward the boards and push her up against them, pinning her there with my hips. My cock surges, and my mind snaps. I don’t care if it’s winter or that we’re on public property. I want to fuck her. Right now.
“Beowulf! Baayyy-O-Wolf!” A man’s voice shatters the silence, cutting through the night air. He whistles and carries on, getting louder as he comes closer to the arena. I tuck Prissy into me, and we move back into the shadows as a man with wispy white hair, wearing a plaid housecoat under his thick parka and pinstripe pajamas stick out of the tops of his winter boots.
“Beo-woof.” Once he stops yelling, I can make out the dog-friendly pronunciation. “What are you doing?” A huge, square-headed Bull Mastiff comes thundering down the sidewalk. He looks like he’s going to bowl over the old man and keep on going, but at the last second he stops and sits at his feet.
“Beo-woof, how could you run
off like that? You had me worried sick.” The man gently scolds his huge dog. The pup tilts its head, but it’s mouth is open in a giant doggy grin that shows absolutely zero remorse for his adventure. “Okay, let’s get you home. If you do that again, you won’t get your bedtime biscuit, and I mean it this time.” He keeps scolding him as he clips on his leash and leads him away down the sidewalk.
Beo-woof is wagging his tail like he just had the best night of his life.
“We should go.” I look down at Prissy when they finally walk out of earshot and out of sight.
“Oh, don’t want to get busted for trespassing and breaking in?” She gives me her favorite look, that I-told-you-so smile she reserves just for me.
“No, I don’t want to get busted for bustin’ in you.” Her smile transforms into a flat line, and her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red than the cold already caused.
“You flatter me.” She rolls her eyes.
I hop back up on the wooded wall surrounding the rink and hold out my hand to help her up. We manage to get out onto the sidewalk without raising any suspicions. It feels colder now. Maybe it’s because we’re not protected by the rink wall, or it could have just gotten colder out. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m not pressed into her, feeling her body heat. We walk a lot faster the rest of the way around the block, back to her house.
I walk her up to the front step. I’m sort of surprised her mom didn’t turn on the porch light for us, but I’m glad she didn’t. I like the privacy. I cup Prissy’s face and pull her up on her toes, kissing her. She moves back, and it’s hard to think of anything but fucking her when she looks at me like she’s fucking starving and I’m her next meal. Or maybe that’s me who’s ready to eat.
“Do you think we can sneak up to your room?” I murmur.
“No, it would be weird. I’m pretty sure my mom is still up, soooo…”
“I really doubt she’d mind,” I tease her.
Prissy lifts up her phone. “I’m ordering you a car.” She looks like she’s trying not to smile.
“Why don’t you come to my place. I can sneak you into Hector House.”
BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance Page 16
