Page 14 of Ice Contact

“I know so.”

“You can drop me off here. That’s my place on the right,” Olivia says as she points to the building my GPS has taken us to. It’s a cute older house that looks like it’s been recently redone. From what I can tell in the dark anyway.I’m not sure exactly what part of town this is, but it looks reasonably safe.

Fuck.I have no game plan here. It’s not a date by any means, she literally just ended a relationship less than an hour ago, but why does this feel like a first date?What do I do? Do I try and kiss her? Do I ask to see her again?

I put the car in park, feeling like it’s a step in the right direction. “Can I walk you to your door?” I ask, my heartpounding in my chest like I’m back in middle school asking a girl to slow dance.

“Oh gosh, you really don’t have to do that. I appreciate the ride, and I don’t want to take up anymore more of your night,” she says, her cheeks flaming in the dark.

I’m noticing every time I offer to help, she makes it seem like she’s inconveniencing me.Man, that fuckwad really did a number on her.

“Olivia, remember how I told you I don’t give out compliments unless I mean them? I also don’t offer anything up that I don’t want to do. I would like to walk you to your door, if that’s okay with you.” She looks stunned at my words, but I can sense her trying her best to hide a smile.That mix of emotions on her face makes the list of things I want to do with this girl grow by the minute.Not to mention my fucking dick matching my thoughts.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I jump out of my car and race to meet her on the passenger side to open the door, fighting a smile the whole time.

Calm the fuck down, Hayes.

“This is a cool place,” I say as we walk toward her house. “How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year. I used to have a small one-bedroom apartment, but my lease was ending, and it was time for a change. My landlord rents out this place, too, so it was an easy transition. This is two bedrooms, just a few blocks from the lake, and I wanted a little more space. Originally, I was going to move here with the ‘person that shall not be named’ but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live so far away from his friends,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I was devastated when he wouldn’t commit to this place because the rent was a little high for me by myself, but I asked my landlord if he could lower it, just a bit, for me. I don’t know if he took pity on me or what, but he said I’d been a greattenant, and he would drop the rent so I could afford it. And I’m so glad he did - Ilovethis house. Plus, I have the extra bedroom set up like a little music studio, so I can practice and work on my songwriting.”

The way she talks about this hidden gem of a place is adorable. I want to ask to see the inside, but I also don’t want to be too forward. But oh, how I want to comfort her insomany ways. This being a gentleman thing is a bunch of horseshit.God, why can’t I be more like Bougie and just go for it? Okay…no. Too far, Hayes.Toofar.

“It must be nice to be able to practice at home. Sadly, an ice rink in my second bedroom would be a little impractical,” I say as she laughs beside me, walking the steps up to her place. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a porch swing, and I gesture to it. “Want to sit and talk for a little longer before I officially drop you off at your door?”

14

olivia

Hayes is beside me, my pulse racing as our thighs touch on thisvery smallporch swing. He’s still in his suit from the game. It’s royal blue and nicely tailored, and he’s paired it with a crisp white dress shirt and a navy tie. He’s also wearing some surprisingly trendy black dress shoes with no socks. Most men’s dress shoe selection is lackluster, but Hayes’ shoes are sharp. I don’t know why the dress shoes with no socks and a suit does it for me, but oh…itdoesit for me. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Hayes these past few weeks. I’ve woken up several times, my heart pounding against my sweat-slicked skin after having feverish dreams about what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted that night at Walt’s. The emotional roller coaster of the past few weeks has been crippling, a constant tightness in my chest draining me of all energy. The weight of suspecting my boyfriend was hiding something, the guilt of dreaming about another man, and the deep ache of wondering if the relationship needed to end, all while fearing the uncertainty and loneliness that might follow, has been overwhelming. But right now, I just feel…safe.

“What made you get into hockey?”

He shrugs as he pushes his feet on the ground to rock the porch swing back and forth. “I went to a friend’s birthday party when I was really young. Five or six, maybe? It was an ice skating party, and I remember being super excited about getting cake. I have a bad sweet tooth.”

“Fun fact - I happen to be anexcellentbaker. You like peach pie? That’s my specialty.”

“Ilovepeach pie. Any pie actually. Especially when it’s warm with a nice scoop of good quality vanilla ice cream. Not the cheap generic ice cream. It has to be one of the good brands where you can see the little flecks of vanilla bean in it. That’s my dream cheat day. How fast can you whip that up? Like ten minutes or so?”

I laugh at his intimate description of the good vanilla ice cream and his dessert request. “Sadly, it takes a couple of hours, but I’ll make you a deal. If I buy some peaches, and you can help me peel them and cut them up, I’ll make a peach pie for you.”

“Deal. I’m a horrible cook, but I can totally peel your peach.”

I sit up straight at the thought of him peeling anything off of me. “Actually, wait right here,” I say as I head in the house. I come back out with a plate of caramel brownies I baked yesterday. “It’s not peach pie, but I made these, and they are sweet.”

Hayes’ eyes grew wide. “Oh. My. God. Seriously? These look dangerous. I’d better sample them to make sure,” he says, taking a brownie and inhaling it in almost one bite.

“Hory shiiii. Eese are ‘elisious,” he tries speaking with a mouth full of brownie crumbs spraying across the porch. He swallows, his fingers dancing over the plate as he fights with himself over eating another. “These are definitely dangerous,” he snatches another one off the plate, “but I cannot stop eating these.”

I smile, pride filling my chest at his compliments, knowing he means every word. I take the final brownie for myself, setting the plate on the wicker table beside me. “Glad you like them. Now that we’ve gotten your sweet tooth settled, finish your story about the skating birthday party. I want to hear how you fell in love with hockey.”

“Oh, right! So, when we got to the party, I got my rental skates on and went out on the ice. I stumbled for a few minutes, but I caught on and got the hang of it quickly. The only way my mom got me off of the ice was by reminding me about the cake,” he continues, and I chuckle at his serious love of sweets. “After the party, I asked my mom if I could take skating lessons or something, and she found an intro to hockey program. Thankfully, it’s a big sport in Minnesota because they don’t have these programs in every part of the country. I was just one of those kids who had a natural knack for it. And now, here I am, an opening night MVP for the Riders. Overnight success,” he says as we both laugh.

God, I am a sucker for a guy with a great sense of humor.Add together a nicely tailored suit, trendy dress shoes with no socks, a sweet tooth, and a sense of humor, and I’m lost. This has been a rough night, but it’s surprisingly trending upward.

“Yeah, I’m sure the league had you in their draft at age seven, right? No hard work after the pee-wee leagues at all,” I taunt, my voice thick with sarcasm.

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