Page 30 of Racking Up Penalties
“Does he know about me?” he asks evenly.
“Yes,” I stammer, surprised by his composure. “If this isn’t what you’re looking for, I’d understand if you want to leave but I like you. I have since we met last year but I won’t be giving Tristan up. Emma and her guys make it work and I want that too.”
Liam studies me for a moment longer, then a slow grin spreads across his face. “Tessa, I like you a lot. I’m not going anywhere.” Relief floods me, warm and soothing like a shot of whiskey on a cold night.
Our conversation shifts seamlessly from serious to light-hearted as we delve into stories from our childhood. Liam’s mom sounds incredible but he doesn’t mention a dad. I tell him about my parents and growing up with Emma.
“My mom couldn’t afford hockey lessons but I really wanted to play. She got me a deal. I was the mascot for a different level and I got to play for my own team.”
I can’t help giggling. “So, you were a mascot? What were you?”
His cheeks pink but he still tells me. “That’s the worst part. We were sponsored by a hot dog company.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh, yes. I was a giant hot dog. I once fell and couldn’t get up, stuck in my hot dog costume, in front of a girl I was crushing on!”
I cover my smile. “But it was worth it?”
“Absolutely. Okay, your turn,” Liam prompts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Give me your most embarrassing fashion disaster.”
I giggle, recalling the time I strutted into class wearing a DIY skirt that unraveled mid-day. “It was like a scene from a sitcom,” I confess, and Liam’s laughter joins mine, filling the space between us with warmth.
Each laugh draws me closer to Liam.
I twirl my fork in the pasta, stealing glances at Liam as he speaks. There’s a shyness to his demeanor that draws me in. The way he is always blushing or looking nervous sets my own nerves at rest. His smile isn’t just a simple curve of lips; it radiates warmth, genuine and inviting, and I can’t help but return it with one of my own.
“What do you like besides hockey?”
Another blush spreads across his cheeks. “Hockey takes up my entire life but my mom is a photographer. I take after her and like doing that in my spare time.”
“Will you show me some photos sometime?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” he says, eyes lighting up. “Nothing professional, but it’s my way of capturing moments, you know?”
I nod, feeling a spark of connection. “I get that. For me, it’s fashion—taking fabrics and colors and turning them into something special.”
“Exactly,” he agrees, and there it is again, that sense of compatibility that surprises me. How easy it is to talk to him, to share parts of myself I usually keep guarded.
“Want to combine the two? We could create some incredible shots with your designs,” he suggests, leaning forward, enthusiasm etched across his features.
The thought excites me, ideas already blooming in my mind. “That sounds amazing. Maybe we could collaborate sometime?”
“Love to,” Liam says, and the possibility of creating art together sends a thrill through me.
Our conversation flows like a river. He tells me about the time he tried to knit a scarf for his mom and ended up tangling himself in yarn, which makes me laugh and want to teach him myself.
As the night wears on, the discovery of each new common thread feels like a gentle tug pulling us closer. It’s the way Liam listens, truly listens when I speak. It’s the way his hand brushes against mine as he reaches for the salt, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm.
Liam’s hand gently touches mine as he reaches for his glass, and it’s all I can do not to capture it with my own. The contact, brief as it may be, leaves a trail of warmth that lingers long after he’s withdrawn. My thoughts wander, daring to imagine what it would feel like to be held by those hands, to be the focus of all that gentle strength.
He offers a warm smile, stands, and extends his hand to me. I accept, feeling the solid reassurance of his grip. He leads me outside, and we stand under the glow of the streetlights, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the warmth that’s built between us.
“Thank you for tonight, Tessa,” he begins, his voice a tender rumble that seems to echo the beat of my racing heart. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” I breathe out, unable to keep the smile from my face. Liam steps closer, and I tilt my head up, anticipation tingling across my skin.
His arms envelop me in a hug that feels like coming home, and I savor the embrace, committing the feel of him to memory. As we part slightly, he lowers his head, and our lips meet in a kiss that is both a promise and a discovery. It’s soft and sweet, a delicate exploration that leaves me wanting more.
