“You strike me as someone who knows exactly what they want and how to get it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Elaborate.”
He rests his elbows on the table and leans in a little, his eyes locking onto mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the intensity of it has me feeling exposed. “You have this energy about you. The way you carry yourself and express what you think makes it obvious. It screams that you aren’t afraid of anything and always go after your dreams.”
His words settle in my chest like a heavy weight. The confident mask I wear feels thinner every passing second. I feel a flicker of vulnerability, as if he’s poking at the very core of me. My heart beats a little faster, and I find myself struggling to keep my composure.
“I appreciate you saying all that, but I’m actually afraid of many things.”
His expression softens. “Yeah? Like what?”
I open my mouth to deflect with something sarcastic, but instead I find myself answering honestly. “Letting people down. Not living up to expectations. Making the wrong choices and having to live with them.”
The words sit between us, quiet but true. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence or doesn’t look away. The waitress brings our food and our conversation continues.
“From what I can see, you’ve carved out something that’s only for you,” Rasmus says eventually. “That’s not easy to do, especially with your last name. You could’ve taken the easy path. But you didn’t. I think that says a lot.”
I glance down at the fries, trying not to let his words hit deep. Tonight is supposed to be fun and non-serious. But it’s too late. They’ve already settled in that vulnerable space beneath my skin.
“Well, damn,” I say, reaching for the ketchup. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”
“Guess I’ll add motivational speaker to my post-hockey career options.”
The conversation shifts after that, being light again, as we enjoy our food. He teases me by eating his burger with a knifeand fork. I mock him for eating his fries without any condiments. We talk about music, movies, and other trivial things like if pineapple belongs to pizza or not. He says no and I say yes, meaning he’s totally wrong.
By the time we finish eating, my cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling. We needed this, a relaxed evening together outside the hockey world.
Outside the restaurant, I check my phone. “My Uber’s two minutes away.”
“I’ll wait with you.”
“You don’t have to. My dad mentioned you live at that apartment building where half of the team lives. That’s only a couple of blocks away.”
“I’ll wait,” he repeats, more softly this time. “And I did have one more thing to ask tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“I was thinking of heading up to my cabin near Ithaca for a long weekend before the second bye week ends…and I thought if you can get time off work, maybe you’d want to come with me. Only us. No team, no family, no pressure. Just a long weekend hanging out.”
I look at him closely and see the sincerity behind the offer. The way he’s trying to get to know me and puts effort into making sure I’m okay with having him in my life is beyond attractive.
“A cabin getaway with my baby daddy,” I test out the words. “What could go wrong?”
He chuckles. “I promise not to chop wood shirtless unless you ask nicely.”
That makes me laugh, too. “Let me check my work schedule once I get home. If I can take the time off, then why not.”
His smile grows. “Yeah?”
I nod as the Uber pulls up to the street. “I’ll let you know.”
He opens the door for me but doesn’t move away until I’m settled inside.
“Text me when you get home,” he says.
The door clicks shut, but I keep my eyes on him through the window as the Uber pulls away from the curb. He lifts a hand in a small wave, and I mimic it.
The driver says something, but it doesn’t register. I’m too busy trying to catch my breath after a night that knocked me more off-balance than I ever expected.
