Page 15 of That Thing You Brew
Beautiful. Dark and soulful.
Pained.
Why?
I placed my hand on his forearm and tried to make my expression look supportive. I didn’t trust myself to speak again.
“My grandfather passed away last night. Well, this morning. My Opa, in Europe,” he added to clarify.
Oh, no.My heart cracked. There was so much I wanted to say, but it wouldn’t come out.
Actions speak louder than words, right? I learned that lesson with my American Girl doll Samantha, and it’d always comforted me when I couldn’t communicate verbally. How a Victorian nine-year-old who wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to was able to give a compelling speech in front of a packed opera house was beyond my understanding. My parents had bought me the doll and set of books when I was in second grade, hoping Samantha would help inspire my stutter away at school.
It hadn’t.
Actions.The poor man looked like he needed a hug. Badly. Before I could talk myself out of it, I rose from my chair and held my arms out.
Xavier stood, took one giant step toward me, and engulfed me in the hug I’d invited.
A hug I’d dreamed about for years.
Gosh, he was tall. Six-five, the stats said. He had a whole foot on me. Three inches taller and a whole lot thicker than when he’d moved to town to play for the Volts.
I tentatively wrapped my arms around his waist, and he pulled me even closer. Flush to him. My sweater to his hoodie. My head rested right over his heart. It thumped as hard and fast as mine did. And he waswarm.It was freezing outside. How was this man a walking furnace?
I don’t know how long we stood there like that. It could have been seconds or minutes. I was lost in his warmth and his faint scent of strawberry shampoo wafting down from the still-damp hair under his hat. Imagine! Xavier Schwann, world-famous hockey player, used strawberry shampoo!
Deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in…
When I heard snickering, I pulled away. Two teenage girls at the next table had their phones up, facing directly at us. I glared at them, and they quickly put their phones down.
Rude.
“Thanks,” Xavier said. “I needed that.”
I nodded. “W-welcome.”
“So,” he said, looking around. “I didn’t think this through. I can see you’re uncomfortable here.” His eyes darted to the teens and narrowed to a glare. They quickly looked away, and he turned back to me. “Would going to my place be too weird? My roommate got traded, and since I’m playing for the Edge now, my pay is better, so I’m not looking to replace him. We’d, ah, be alone there.”
Alone with Xavier Schwann? Um, yes, please! The fangirl in me wanted to jump for joy.
The practical girl in me was blaring a warning signal.
A loud, honking goal-horn blaring warning signal.
The empath in me scolded myself, reminding Fan Girl and Practical Girl about the loss of his grandfather.
I wasn’t afraid of Xavier. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep my crush to myself.
“Th-that’s fine.” I swallowed. “W-when?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Tonight?”
The inflection in his tone sounded hopeful.
Nah. It was probably my imagination.
I nodded. “S-sure.”
