Page 10 of Home for the Hockey-Days

I nod again, and she sits. She reaches out to the mini pink Christmas tree in the middle of the table. “These are so cute.”She points at the decor. “Someone really likes Christmas. And pink.”

There are pink tinsel garlands hung on the fireplace, twinkly lights strung all over the coffee shop, and the pink couch photo-op-spot has two smaller Christmas trees book-ending it... it’s a lot.

“Do you want something to drink?”

I tip my head to the side like an overexcited dog waiting for an ear scratch. All that’s missing is a comedic Scooby Doo noise. I blink, once, twice, but I still can’t get my ears to work. What did she say?

She giggles, and the warm, melodic sound hits like a shot of caffeine straight to my system. It’s now my life’s mission to make this woman laugh every time I see her. “I asked if you wanted anything.” She waves her wallet at me.

Normally, I can’t afford anything on the menu. Between school and hockey, I don’t really have time for a part time job, so I make do with what I have from my scholarship, and I try to only splurge on fancy, overpriced coffees once a week, at most, even if Taryn puts something addictive in them, and they taste fucking delicious.

I do have that super generous gift card from Artemis money-bags de la Peña, but I still don’t know that I want to spend it. Just call me Scrooge McDuck. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I feel like I at least owe you a coffee after...” She waves her hand. “You know...”

“You crashed into me and destroyed my vehicle.”

We both recoil.

“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Too soon.”

She pauses like she wants to say something else before shaking her head and going to the counter. Her jeans hug her ass like they were spray painted on her, and all I can think about is leaving teeth marks on her rounded cheeks. That’s not where my brain should go. Ishouldbe focused on math,on boring, complicated, keeps-my-spot-on-the-team math. But with the auburn beauty striding to the counter I think logic and sense have left the building.

I tug at my collar, even though it’s not restrictive, or hot. It’s Iowa in December for fuck’s sake. The snow that got dumped on us from the storm last week, was joined by even more snow yesterday.

I feel like a fucking caveman. I’m not an ape, I know that women aren’t pieces of meat, or trophies to look pretty and bring joy to men folk. But, holy shit, I’ve never seen a woman like this before. I just need my body to catch up with my brain, then I can focus on learning to count and spell like a good little dumb shit.

When she returns to the table, she has a hot pink paper cup in each hand. “Left or right?”

I stare at her like this is some kind of trick. I told her I didn’t want anything.

“C’mon, August. I didn’t want to drink alone, and I didn’t know which drink I wanted. So I got two, and whichever one you don’t pick is the one I was destined to have.”

I don’t believe in fate, or whatever kismet shit she’s talking about, but I do love the fancy coffees here, and I love surprises. So picking a cup sends a little buzz of excitement through my veins.

As a leftie, I gravitate that direction in all things, so I pick the hand to my left. When she hands over the cup in her right hand, she takes a sip from the one in her left before smacking her lips. “Ahhh.” Her eyes roll back in her head. “The coffee here is so fucking good.”

Something we both agree on. I love a girl who can shamelessly cuss like society doesn’t expect women to be “good.” When I left my old neighborhood and came to college, I was amazed at the number of girls who raised eyebrows at my shameless use of profanity.

I mean, find me a better word in the dictionary than fuck. I’ll wait.

I know words have power, but the number of people who are held hostage to language astounds me. The fact that Rowan isn’t afraid to throw down a well placed F-bomb makes me inordinately happy.

Maybe this tutor-student partnership will work after all.

She takes her seat, then curls both palms around the warm paper cup, and draws in another mouthful of her drink. I’m bewitched, I can’t look away. From the freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, to the gray flecks in her eyes, I’m enthralled. If this woman decided to read the phonebook to me right now, I’d listen to every damn name and number from start to finish.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I rub my head, maybe the accident knocked something out of place in my brain like one of those crappy romance movies. Someone has a car crash, wakes up, and falls for the first person they see.

I pick up my cup, pausing when she holds hers out to ‘clink’ against mine. Scrunching up my face, I purse my lips.

“To acing your next round of exams and kicking math in the balls.”

I’ll drink to that. Math can suck my balls. I can’t help the smile tugging on my lips when I answer, “Cheers,” and take my first sip. “Salted caramel mocha?”

She nods with a grin. “It’s not on the menu, but Taryn says it’s going on the board for Valentine’s Day.”

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