Page 12 of Bar Down

“Two waters, two coffees, and two glasses of orange juice,” Eli says and gives the girl a smile. What the hell? Since when does he smile at strangers? I feel like the roles are reversed here and I don’t like it one bit.

“Coming right up!” she says, all chipper.

We quietly look over the menu and the waitress comes back with all of our drinks. I gulp down the water immediately and pour myself some more from the bottle she left on the table.

Food doesn’t even sound good at the moment so I don’t mind when Eli takes charge and orders us both breakfast. I’m too distracted by my headache and the decor of the restaurant to even pay attention.

The place is very sleek and modern looking, but comfortable at the same time. The walls are navy blue, the upholstery on thechairs and booths is steel gray and all the art and decorations are a nice, soft yellow. There are even fresh yellow flowers in vases on all the tables. Must be expensive this time of year.

“Ilo. Did you hear me?” Eli says, pulling me out of my stupor. I narrow my eyes at him. This is the second time he’s called me a foreign word. They sound different, but I have no idea what they could mean. It’s notkusipää,which is the only Finnish word I know. It meansfuckerand let’s just say Eli uses that one a lot on the ice.

“What do you keep calling me?” I ask before taking another big swig of water and sip the coffee. My grimace must be quite ferocious because Eli laughs and takes my coffee away. Before I can complain about it, he rips open two packets of sugar and a packet of vanilla creamer and adds them to my cup. My brain short circuits in the face of his kindness and I’m left with nothing else to say or do, except stare at him. Eli’s long fingers are lightly gripping the spoon as he stirs my coffee. He’s so fucking good, and kind, and pretty. Everything about him is pale: his skin, his blond hair, his blue eyes, and yet,he shines so fucking bright.

I take my time and admire his movements. Eli’s hands are big, but not meaty like one would think for a goaltender. His fingers are long and deft and he keeps his fingernails trimmed and proper, just like the rest of him. His hair is soft but not too long, and his eyebrows are thick and pale. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with scruff, let alone a beard, and his clothes are always clean and crisp. He’s so put together and it bothers the shit out of me. I want to rumple him up. Make a mess of him.

Would he let me?

He says something and my gaze drops down to his mouth and his pink, kissable lips. His bottom lip is slightly plumper than his top and all I can think about is how good he tasted last night, how I wanted to run my teeth along that lip and tease it.

My gaze snaps up to his and I realize I’ve been caught. Eli stares right back at me with a small smile and pushes the coffee back over to my side of the table.

“Drink, it will help with the hangover.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Our food arrives quickly and we eat in companionable silence. Eli ordered me a plate ofshakshukaand a side of the famous biscuits and this is seriously the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

“How do you always do this?” I ask, closing my eyes around another bite of biscuit and almost moaning in pleasure.

“Do what?” he says with a laugh.

“Know exactly what I need, when I need it?”

Eli swallows a bite of his fancy egg white omelet and looks at me but doesn’t say anything. He just shrugs.

“It’s like your superpower. You always read people’s moods and know exactly what to do or say.” Eli blushes at my words and I think it’s time we stop ignoring the elephant in the room.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, “about last night.”

Eli sits back in his seat and inhales deeply. “Which part are you sorry about?”

I hold his gaze and try to figure out what he might be thinking but the man might as well be out there on the ice. He’s an immovable block. Unreadable.

I bite my lip and reluctantly respond, “All of it.” I think I see the smallest of shudders in his facade so I decide to take a leap. “All of it, except for the kiss.”

There. It’s out now. I may not recall everything I said last night, but I remember telling him I liked him, and I remember him taking care of me when I got too drunk.Like he always does.

Eli links his fingers together and rests his elbows on the table. His head drops down as he rests his forehead on his hands and I let him process what I just said.

After what feels like forever, I start to talk. Because I hate silence and I can’t fucking help myself. “Look, if this is too weird, or too much, I get it. I’m a lot to handle and you definitely deserve better, and?—”

“Stop,” he says, lifting his head and looking at me with such a fierce expression that I immediately clamp my mouth shut, “Stop putting yourself down like that.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. So I close it and do my best to swallow. I didn’t expect him to saythat.

“You are not too much to handle, and you don’t know the first thing about what Ideserve,” he spits the word out with such malice it’s like I personally offended him with it. Damn, maybe I have.

I lift my hands up and say, “Okay. Alright. All I’m trying to say is that I like you. Iwantyou. But if you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally cool.”

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