I tell her yes. I don’t bother telling her that I’m checking my emails at the café first. That’s beyond my level of Finnish. Instead, I ask her if she wants to see a movie tomorrow night. Yes, Joni’s language lessons are paying off. And thankfully American movies aren’t dubbed in Finnish. Hello, subtitles.
She pulls out today’s newspaper and checks the listings for the local theater. She points to the romantic comedy that looks good and we make plans to see it.
Once I’m finished with dinner, I clean my dishes and head to the café. There, I order a Diet Coke and sit on an empty seat next to the window. Because I haven’t checked my inbox since yesterday afternoon, there’s a bunch for me to go through. Some are from Claire, who is eager to hear more about my non-existent love life.
Spending the weekend with Kyle at a cottage by a lake, I type. I never told her that Kyle’s wife is dead. I referred to her as his ex-wife. She might not be as excited about me hanging out with him if she knows he’s dealing with that level of loss. A dead ex-boyfriend is nothing like a dead wife.
She responds soon after, I didn’t realize things were getting serious between you two.
She only knows that he’s my fake boyfriend and we hang out whenever our schedules allow it. Which turns out is fairly often.
I’m not spending the weekend alone with him, I reply. We’re meeting up with a bunch of people he knows. A romantic weekend for two, it’s not.
Not that I want a romantic weekend for two. We’re just friends. Friends who happen to kiss. That’s all.
Mom has responded to my email asking if she can talk to Muumu about her scheme to hook me up with Joni. All I get is a message that she’s going away for the weekend. She doesn’t mention who it’s with though. And since I don’t want to bring up how I’m going away for the weekend with Kyle, I let her email slide.
And finally, I read the email I had missed when I first scanned my unopened messages. It’s from my university regarding my fall clinical experience.
Dear Ms. Philips,
We’re sorry to inform you that Westbrook High School is no longer able to offer you the clinical placement for the fall due to funding cutbacks. We are doing our best to find you an alternative practicum.
I stare at the screen, unable to believe it. This had been a great opportunity and now it’s gone. And worst yet, all the best placements went early. Chances aren’t good the university will be able to line me up with something similar.
I reread the email several more times. Nothing changes. It really is true. I’m currently short a clinical placement. A clinical placement that is not only necessary for experience, it’s necessary for me to graduate next year. Shit.
I shutdown my laptop. As I pack up my stuff to leave for the soccer field, my phone pings.
Kyle: You’re currently fantasizing about me…True or false?
The corner of my mouth twitches up. Maybe, I type back. I had thought about him several times today, even though I probably shouldn’t have. Against all my plans, Kyle is getting under my skin. I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good thing or not.
We’re just friends, I remind myself once again.
Me: You’re getting all hot and steamy over this text…True or false?
I hit send before realizing how lame it sounds. Ugh.
Kyle responds as I walk out of the cafe. Maybe. You?
Well, considering I’m walking to the soccer field to tape a bunch of players’ ankles…
Kyle knows what I’m referring to. I told him about it after we “made up.”
He doesn’t send me any more texts. A slight twinge of disappointment zaps me like static. I’m not sure why. It’s not like I’ve ever had phone sex or sent sexts. I have no idea what to do.
And it’s not like I would actually do that with Kyle. It’s not like that between us.
Right. Because he never went down on you.
Inwardly, I roll my eyes at the voice. It was a one-time thing. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s a player. I wouldn’t be surprised if his text to me was just foreplay before he heads out for the bar with his roommate to pick up more one-night stands.
The new twinge of disappointment hits me harder than before. I do my best to ignore it and practically run to the field where I’m meeting Joni’s team.
I arrive and Joni introduces me around. Dabria, the coach’s pregnant wife, takes me to the sideline where she has the supplies set up. “I’m so glad you can help me. For practices, we’re mostly here to provide first aid, but some of the men need their ankles taped. Joni said you know how to do that.”
“That’s right.”
She and I don’t have a chance to talk again until we’ve finished taping ankles. Then we sit back on the bench and watch her husband lead the practice. While they might not be professional players, they take the sport seriously. It’s no wonder Joni’s in good shape.
“Joni said you’re staying with your grandmother,” Dabria says.
“It’s just for the summer, then I’m returning to the US to finished my athletic training degree.” At least that was the plan until the dilemma with the canceled practicum. I do my best not to think about it, but it’s like an annoying mosquito bite that won’t stop itching.
“So nothing is going on between you and Joni?” she asks.
“He’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested in him that way.” And even if I were, I wouldn’t want to risk falling for him. Not when my heart could end up being a casualty or I could have to deal with a long-distance relationship that fades over time. It isn’t worth effort.
Besides, it’s not Joni who inconveniently fills my thoughts. It’s the dark-haired guy with glasses and a love for hockey and physics who’s the guilty one.
“Do you want to work with athletic teams once you’re finished your degree?” Dabria asks. “Or do you want to work in a clinic?”
I glance at the guys running around the field. “I’ve done both as part of my clinical training, but I like working with teams more.” The idea of working with a team and getting to know the players appeals to me. I don’t mean getting to know them on a personal level, but to know them enough to understand how best to work with them. To see the benefits of my job when the injured player can play again.
We watch the guys run through their drills. Markus, the guy from the beach last week, cuts one way but his knee has other plans and he goes down. I’m already on my feet, charging across the field before Dabria has a chance to stand up from the bench.
I dropped next to Markus who is writhing in pain. I check his knee, careful not to cause more damage, then ask Joni and another player to help him to the bench. Once they’re there, I elevate his leg and apply an ice bag to the swelling joint. I don’t even have to think what I’m doing. It’s instinct.
The coach has Joni and the other player help Markus to his friend’s car, and his friend drives him to the hospital so his knee can be checked out. The game resumes.
“You’re sexy in action,” Kyle says behind me. I startle at his voice. I had no idea he was here.
I turn to him. He’s wearing jeans and a light gray t-shirt that skims his developed chest and abs. Lucky t-shirt. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I didn’t have anything exciting to do, since the person I’m exploring Helsinki with now has a life beyond that.” He glances at the field where the team is playing, then leans down and kisses my jaw. “And maybe I missed hanging out with you.”
His lips linger against my skin and my entire body buzzes at his touch. My brain tells me to step away from him, but I can’t for the life of me remember why. My body says to hell with that. I move my head so my lips can brush against his. But before I get that far, Kyle stumbles into me and lets out an exhaled grunt.
He turns toward the field. Joni jogs to where the ball rests on the grass a couple of yards from us. The rest of the team watches. And now I remember why my brain wanted me to step away from Kyle. Him kissing me while I’m volunteering as a first ai
der is hardly professional.
“Sorry,” Joni says. “It wasn’t meant to hit you.”
Kyle mutters something under his breath that sounds close to “sure it wasn’t.”
Joni picks up the ball and tosses it into play.
“Are you okay?” I ask Kyle. “Where were you hit?”
“It’s no big deal. I’ve had worse playing hockey.”
“I guess that’s true.” Hockey isn’t known for being a friendly sport, which might be why I’ve never been into it. Too much fighting. “If you want, I can take you for an ice cream to make you feel better.” I press my lips together to keep from grinning. It doesn’t work.
“You’ve got a deal. But in the meantime, I’ll wait over there.” He points to a group of birch trees a safe distance away.
“Are you sure? There’s still another half an hour left.”
“Did I mention you’re sexy when you’re working?” His gaze travels down my body.
I laugh and give him a small shove on the shoulder. “By the way. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For telling Rafu Jarvinen about me.” At Kyle’s confused expression, I explained, “He asked me if I’d be interested in covering for someone next week in the physical therapy clinic. So thanks for suggesting me.”
“I didn’t. I was looking for you yesterday at the sports center before I went to your grandmother’s. I might have mentioned to him what you’re studying.” He shrugs.
“Thank you anyway.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Okay, off you go. I’ll see you soon.”
He salutes me and walks away. He’s limping, but not as bad as he has been. He has his good days and his bad. Right now seems to be a good day.
“Who’s that?” Dabria asks, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“A friend.” My face heats at the memory of what my “friend” did to me the other night.
Dabria laughs. “Your friend’s hot.”
I look back at Kyle. “You’re right. He is.” But he’s a lot more than that, too.
I return my attention to the game. The remainder of it goes down injury free. During the final minutes, Dabria and I put away our supplies, and I thank her for letting me help out. We exchange numbers in case we need to get in touch with each other about the practices and games.
We’re finishing up when Joni jogs over. “So what did you think?” he asks.
“You were great out there.” I’m about to ask him why he kicked the soccer ball at Kyle, but I have no proof he intentionally did it. And why would he anyway?
The guys collect the equipment and carry it to the parking lot. I say bye to everyone and join Kyle.
“Are we still on for ice cream?” I ask him. Ever since I suggested it to him during the practice, it’s all I can think about.
“Sounds good.”
We walk to the café where I checked my email earlier. I order mango in a waffle cone. Kyle orders chocolate. I then lead him to the playground I used to go to as a kid. It’s huge and made of wood instead of plastic. The benches are occupied, so we sit on the grassy knoll near some trees and watch the kids play.
“How’s your ice cream?” he asks.
“Yummy. You wanna try some?” I hold out my cone for him to lick.
But instead of sampling the ice cream, his lips find mine and the tip of his tongue traces along the seam of my mouth. I automatically open up and let him in.
My tongue brushes against his and I savor the taste of chocolate. And it’s good. Really good.
Our kisses become more heated, a taste of what’s to come this weekend. I moan softly. Kyle pulls away. Screams of laugher float over to us, reminding me where we are. Kyle’s kisses have that effect on me—the effect of making me oblivious to our surroundings.
“You’re right,” he says with a wiry smile. “Your ice cream is good.”
I laugh. “So is yours.”
We watch the kids run around, carefree. They don’t have to worry about their careers, a topic which is foreign to them. They don’t have to worry about how their practicum has been canceled.
I try pushing away all thoughts of what it means for my final year and for my future, but they refuse to budge. It doesn’t help that I’m here and can’t talk to my counselor in person.
Kyle strokes my lower back with his thumb. “Hey, where did you go?”
“I’m right here.”
“Right. But I’m not buying it, Sof. What’s going on?”
My eyes widen. In the short time we’ve been hanging out together, he already knows me that well. Which means he can probably tell when I lie. “I found out today my practicum for the fall has been canceled.”
“Can you get another one?”
“Hopefully, especially since I need it to graduate. But it won’t be the same. This one was with a high school, which meant I’d be working with sport teams. That’s what I want to do once I graduate and get my credentials. The experience would’ve been perfect.”
“I’m sorry,” he says and I can tell he means it. But since he can’t do anything about it, I change topics.
“What’s your favorite part about coaching?” I ask.
He doesn’t have to think about. “Working with the kids. What about yours with athletic training?”
“Knowing I make a difference. It’s hard to explain.”
He nods. “No, I get what you mean.”
We finish our ice creams in a silence. With Kyle, I don’t have to talk all the time to avoid the awkward dead air that leaves some people fidgety. It’s nice. Comfortable.
I check the time on my phone. 8:40 p.m. I scramble up. “I should go. I need to study.”
Kyle frowns. “Study? For what?”
“My certification exam. It’s in March, but I’m getting a head start on it while I’m here.” Since I don’t have the same distractions as I do back home. Another perk of spending my summer in Finland.
Except now that I’ve got a lot going on, it’s getting harder and harder to find time to study.
Kyle pushes himself up. “I can give you a ride home if you want.”
“Thanks.” I can easily walk home, but I’m not ready to say bye to him yet.
We return to his car and he drives me back to Muumu’s apartment. I’m about to climb out when he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him so only a few inches separate us.
“Will I get to see you before Saturday?” His gaze drops to my lips.
“I’m not sure. I’m taking my grandmother to see a movie tomorrow.” Kyle works late Wednesday and I’m volunteering on Thursday with Joni’s team.
“Then this will have to do until then…” He kisses me long and hard, our tongues exploring, tasting, teasing. I’m breathless by the time we pull apart. Breathless and wishing tomorrow were Saturday.
Chapter Twenty
Sofia
I walk into the kitchen to see if Muumu is here since we need to leave soon for the movie. She’s sitting at the table, flipping through what looks like a photo album. She looks up and waves me over. Mina chirps her encouragement from her cage.
I sit next to Muumu. She points to a faded picture of a pretty girl my age wearing a light blue minidress. Her long blond hair hangs around her shoulders. “Mä oon tossa.” She points to herself then to a good-looking guy in tight red pants and a tight polyester shirt. “Tos oon sun vaari.” My grandfather.
After I get over how thankful I am no one dresses like that anymore, I study the photo. They’re sitting on the grass by the lake, a tent to one side. His arm is around her and they’re beaming at the camera.
In the next photo, they’re sitting by a campfire with their friends. This time they aren’t posing for the camera. It’s a candid shot. Vaari still has his arm around her waist, but everyone is laughing and having a good time.
She flips the page. In this picture, they’re walking along the pier where the Helsinki marketplace is located, holding hands. Their backs are to the camera but it’s obviously them.
Muumu says something that is lost on me, but her dreamy tone gives away that she’s remembering her early days with my grandfather, when they fell in love.
And they were still in love the day my grandfather died. That much I know from what Mom told me.
Muumu shows me more photos. A few are of places I’ve been to with Kyle. Some we haven’t been to yet, and I mentally add them to the list of must-see locations. And with each picture we look at, she and my grandfather appear to be even more in love than in the photo before it. They’re proof that happily-ever-after does exist.
Muumu glances at the clock and says something that I interpret to mean we need to go now if we’re going to make the movie.
“Kiitos,” I tell her, pointing to the album. I’m not sure what exactly I’m thanking her for. Showing me that love does exist. Showing me a glimpse of the fun-loving girl she was when she was my age. Showing me places Kyle and I need to explore. Or maybe a bit of everything.
The movie theater isn’t busy when we arrive. We find empty seats near the middle and settle down for the show.
The movie is about a woman who has grown up with four brothers and is more comfortable tossing footballs as one of the guys than she is doing girlie things. But then her best friend convinces her to help with the friend’s bridal consultation business. Great, if she looked the part. But she doesn’t. So the hero, who is one of her brother’s friends, takes it upon himself to help the heroine become more ladylike.
It’s hilarious.
And it reminds me of Kyle.
The hero and the heroine spend a lot of time together, and learn more about each other and about themselves. Just like Kyle and me. Her makeover isn’t lost on me either. In the end, she and I want the same thing—a fresh start to a bright new future. Except in her case, the funny sexy guy is an added bonus.
Muumu and I laugh at the banter between the couple. The woman then decides she’s had enough of their innuendoes flinging back and forth. She kisses him—and he doesn’t complain. Tensions between them become heated and the next thing I know, clothes are being flung across the room and they end up in bed together.
Heat it Up: Off the Ice - Book One Page 11
