“Spot on, and you unknowingly waded into the rivalry by assuming that we eat danishes.” He ruffles my hair, and I’d usually find that to be a tad demeaning, but coming from Erik, it’s endearing. “In all seriousness, it’s only a bit of fun, kind of like what you guys have with Quebec.”
“That makes sense.” That Scandinavian rivalry sounds like something I can joke around with at some point. I’ll keep it in mind.
Checking the time, I down the rest of my coffee so I won’t be late for work. I need to get out of here soon, but there’s one more thing I need to take care of.
“Are you free this weekend?” I ask. Trying to play it cool is hard, especially since it’s been ages since I asked someone out on a proper date.
“No, sorry, I’m leaving on a week-long road trip tonight, and I won’t be back until the Friday after next. What’s up?”
Damn. Oh well.
“I, uh, wanted to ask if you’d like to hang out again.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, totally! I know we just met, but I always have a great time when I’m with you.” I glance off to the side before returning my gaze to the confused man in front of me. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m so down to hang out.” He scratches the back of his head. “My team should get back to Toronto at around seven.”
My stomach stutters. “So are you free after that? Maybe instead of hanging out, we could go out-out, if you’re cool with that?”
Erik blinks, his mouth curving up. “Oh, wow. I’d… really, really like that.”
I perk up, my heart flipping. “Awesome! Let’s plan something. I need to get going, but I’ll text you.” Reachingdown for my backpack, I grab it and sling the straps over my shoulders. “See you next Friday.”
“Bye, Luke.” Erik hesitates for a fraction of a second before reaching out, skimming my neck with his fingers. Muscle memory takes over, and I lean in, parting my lips to receive his for a brief kiss that has me wanting more.
I force myself to leave Erik, kicking myself for not bringing my laptop, and I arrive back at my empty apartment on top of the world. My chest is full, my smile might as well be extending past my ears, and I have to muster up enough willpower to start work instead of kicking my feet on the couch. I open my laptop and my mind is everywhere, so it takes far too long to type out a reply to a meaningless email.
Once I finally clear my inbox, I stretch back and let myself daydream.
Erik is the best kind of trouble: the kind that can rip my heart out and leave me hurting more than a goalie who played a period without any protective gear.
Everything about him is addictive. Everything. How he looks, talks, smells, walks, and fucks.
But more than anything, it’s who he is that really gets to me.
He’s nice, and that’s dangerous.
Still, if there’s one thing I learned in finance class, it’s that there’s no such thing as a zero-risk investment.
High risk, high reward.
Now I need to hope that his bus back from Montreal on Friday doesn’t get stuck in traffic.
I spend the next week and a half trying to put out metaphorical fires at work with only the help of a metaphorical water pistol,given that we’re understaffed as always, and I don’t have the time or energy to focus on much else. Somehow, I’m successful.
But Erik. Oh, Erik. He stays at the very forefront of my mind because we text constantly. He doesn’t reply during games or practices, of course, but not a day goes by without us exchanging a few messages back and forth. We ended up planning our date together, which took all of five minutes. He suggested going to an arcade bar, and I found one close to my place. Collaboration is sexy.
And shit, he keeps sending punctuation smiles at the end of those messages. I never thought the way someonetextscould be cute, yet I’m falling more with every little closing bracket that comes my way. That’s why when Friday arrives, my feelings for Erik haven’t gone anywhere. In fact, they’ve grown. It’s only been two weeks since I met him, and I’m already like this.
I’m not complaining.
Right at eight, there’s a knock on my door. I open it to let Erik in, and my pants tighten.
Holy shit.
This isn’t the first time I’m seeing him in his post-game suit, this isn’t the first time he’s worn that cologne, and this isn’t the first time he’s existed in my presence.
