Page 13 of Slap Shot
Oliver's mouth curved in a smile. "I can focus on a few things at once.”
"Not to mention I’m the worst possible choice for someone to get involved with," she said, but she was smiling too. "I'm stubborn, I work too much, and I have a tendency to put my career before everything else, including basic human relationships."
"Sounds terrible," Oliver said solemnly. "I'm anxious, I have panic attacks in grocery stores, and I spend most of my free time either playing hockey or making YouTube videos for the Charm City Chill fans. Also, I have a criminal past that could destroy both our careers if it comes to light."
"When you put it like that, we sound perfect for each other."
The joke made them both laugh, breaking some of the tension. But when their laughter faded, the awareness between them intensified rather than diminished.
They managed to get through dinner without crossing any more lines, though Oliver caught himself memorizing the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, how she unconsciously leaned closer when she was making a point. By the time they headed to the Shubert Theatre, he was wound tighter than a spring.
The show was everything Andi had promised, energetic, loud, impossible to think during. Which was exactly what Oliver needed, because sitting in the dark beside Heather whilepercussion thundered around them was its own kind of torture. Every accidental brush of their arms sent electricity through him. When she laughed at something particularly outrageous on stage, the sound made him want to find excuses to make her laugh like that again.
During intermission, they grabbed drinks at the lobby bar.
"What a fun show," Heather said. “Was this your idea or Andi’s?”
"Andi's always been the cultural one in the family. I'm more of a Netflix and takeout guy."
"Nothing wrong with Netflix and takeout. Though I have to admit, this beats my usual night routine of working until I fall asleep at my computer."
Oliver studied her profile as she watched the crowd around them. "When's the last time you did something just for fun?”
Heather considered the question seriously. "Honestly? I can't remember. Since the divorce, I've been pretty focused on rebuilding my career."
"Divorce?" The word slipped out before Oliver could stop it.
"Three years ago. My then husband stole a bunch of data from my computer and sold it." Heather sneered. "He thought I’d quietly take the fall for it."
“Did you?”
“Hell, no. I turned him in and he’s in the slammer right now. Fucker.”
"Good for you."
The simple statement made her look at him directly. "Thank you for saying that."
"I mean it."
“You don’t think I was disloyal?”
“What? Hell no. I think he got what he deserved.”
“His mother and sister still won’t talk to me.” She gave a half smile.
“Their loss.”
“Yeah,” she said and finished her drink in one long swallow.
The house lights flickered, signaling the end of intermission, but neither of them moved. The lobby crowd flowed around them like water around stones, and Oliver realized he didn't want to stop talking to her.
"We should head back," Heather said finally, but she didn't sound like she wanted to either.
The second act passed in a blur of drums and creative percussion, but Oliver was hyperaware of Heather beside him in the dark. When the show ended and they were walking to the parking garage, the night air felt charged with possibility.
"Thank you," Heather said as they reached her car. "For dinner, for the show, for... this. I needed it more than I realized."
"Thank you for saying yes. Even if it was technically a work meeting."
