Page 12

12

HARRISON

We win in Vancouver, lose in Calgary, a horrific six-one loss. Calgary’s out of the playoffs, which makes it even more humiliating. I’m a little annoyed actually, because I feel like I’ve been playing so well on the line with Pavel and Eddie, and tonight Coach moved Eddie up to the first line to give Jimmy a break and made Pavel a healthy scratch too. So was playing with Scotty and Olle, who are great but different. But it’s not about me and what’s best for me—it’s what’s best for the team.

Anyway, Calgary’s coming to our town next week and we’ll have a chance at redemption. The games are meaningless for us, but like I told Arya, now we’re playing for our pride.

I’ve had a lot to think about this week. The news about Dad, going out with Arya, the way she acted at the end of our date, and then taking off on a road trip.

The guys would laugh at me if they knew, but I did some yoga in my hotel room, since we had extra time. I use it to relax my body and turn off my mind. Of course yoga makes me think about Arya. I can’t wait to see her again on Saturday. What should we do? I don’t want to do another restaurant thing. So I ask my teammates for ideas when we’re out for a team dinner the night before the game at the steakhouse in the Westin in downtown Calgary.

“Okay you guys, I’m taking my future wife out on a date on Saturday and I need ideas.”

“Future wife.” Bellsy shakes his head at me. “You need to slow your roll, dude.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t told her yet.” I smirk at him.

“Dinner at Rossignol,” he suggests. “I took Everly there. We saw Tom Hanks.”

“Don’t want another dinner date.” I cut into my perfect medium-rare steak. “We’ve done that. I want to do something fun and different.”

“Take her on a hike to the Hollywood sign,” Bellsy offers. “I did that with Everly too.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to go on the same dates as my sister, thanks.”

He snorts.

“How did you get her to do that, anyway? Did she hike in her Prada heels?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Dumbass. It was me . She wanted to be with me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How about a movie?” Bergie suggests. “Chicks like rom coms.”

I consider that. Sitting beside Arya in silence for a couple of hours doesn’t sound that appealing. Although maybe we could make out in the back row of the theater...

“Griffith Observatory,” Jabber suggests. “You can look at the stars. Very romantic.”

“Huh.” That’s a possibility.

“You two could hang out with us,” Nicky says.

“Ha. I’m not bringing her around you guys.”

“What? Why not?” Nicky looks offended.

“She sees enough of you at yoga class. Besides, that’s too high pressure. I might as well take her home to meet my family.”

That gets a bunch of laughs.

“She’s going to have to meet them at some point,” Jimmy points out. “If she’s going to be your wife.”

“Yeah, at some point. But she’s already met my sister. And Bellsy here.”

“Aw. Am I family now?” he asks. “I’m honored.”

I shrug. “Sort of. Also JP.” I grin, remembering knocking him into the water at the first SUP class we went to.

“Take her shopping,” Scotty says. “Buy her something expensive.”

I stare at him incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Lots of women like that.”

“If that’s how you have to get women to date you, that’s sad.”

He flicks his middle finger my way. “Fuck you.”

“I’ll figure something out.” I shake my head.

“Don’t ask Archie,” Bergie says with a grin. “He has the worst luck with dates.”

“It’s true.” Archie rolls his eyes. “Remember my blind date?”

I shake my head. I haven’t heard these stories.

“I met this girl at a restaurant. She didn’t say a word the whole time we ate dinner. Seriously. Not. A. Word. After I paid the bill, she just got up and left.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah. Then I checked my phone and discovered a text from the chick I was supposed to meet, saying she couldn’t make it.”

I crack up laughing.

“Still don’t know who the hell I had dinner with.” He shakes his head, grinning.

“How about the time you texted your date that you wished you hadn’t asked her out?” Nicky asks.

“Ha! I was trying to text you . Right in the middle of the date, I accidentally texted her. She looked at her phone, then looked at me. Awkward!”

We take our time at dinner because we’re going to a dance club that doesn’t even open until nine-thirty. We pile into a bunch of cabs the valet at the entrance of the hotel waves up for us. This place supposedly has great DJs, and on a Thursday night, should be hopping.

Not that I care. I’m not feeling the club vibe right now. I want to get home and see how Dad’s doing and take Arya out on a date and maybe go see my half brothers, Mark and Matthew, and give them shit.

It doesn’t take long for women to notice us. Nicky and Jimmy order bottles of wine and pour them drinks, and a bunch of guys are dancing with girls in short, sexy dresses. I catch the eye of a hot blonde. She smiles. I look away and sip my whisky.

I’m used to this, although the cities I usually travel to are smaller and the bars not quite as plush as this one. Wherever we are, women always seem to notice the hockey players. Tonight, I’m not interested. I lean back on the banquette where I’m sitting and think about Arya... her toned body, how her soft hand felt in mine as we walked on the beach, her pretty mouth, and how she helped me process what’s happening with Dad.

It’s been a while since I had a girlfriend. I forgot what it’s like to have someone to talk to, someone you can share that kind of stuff with and not feel like a complete dork. I haven’t forgotten what sex is like, though, and I’d really like to know how that is with Arya too. I bet it’s spectacular. I was all pissed at Archie when he made that comment about Arya being flexible, but I have to admit I’ve thought of it too.

I start imagining the kinds of positions we could try... No. Stop . I’m getting a boner. Can’t have that. Instead, I think about what’s going to happen with Dad. And the team. And Mom. Yeah, that takes care of the ill-timed erection, all right.

* * *

Arya won’t let me pick her up at her home, which makes me sigh. It also makes me wonder why not. She lives with a man. She said they’re just friends, and she said he has a boyfriend . . . but maybe that’s not true... Is she hiding something from me?

I hate thinking things like that. I’m not na?ve, but I like to think that people are mostly good and honest. And when I think of it, I wouldn’t want my sister letting strange men pick her up at home. Not that I’m strange. Ha.

After a little texting back and forth, we agreed to meet at the Golden Fish, the bar owned by her roommate’s boyfriend. As I near the place, I see her standing on the sidewalk outside.

A smile breaks out on my face.

Her hair is down again tonight, in long waves of all different shades of gold. She’s wearing jeans—first time I’ve seen her in jeans—dark jeans that fit her slender curves perfectly, with a black-and-white graphic T-shirt and a tiny red leather jacket over it. On her feet are metallic gold flats.

I pull up to the curb and lift my hand. She spots me, and her spontaneous smile leaves no mistaking that she’s happy to see me too.

Something inside my chest puffs up.

She slides in and pulls the door closed. We turn to each other, both smiling like jackasses eating thistles, as my Grandpa Clark says.

“Hi.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“Good. Especially now.”

Her eyes warm. “Did you miss me?” she teases.

“Like I’d miss my left nut.”

She laughs lightly. “Okay, then.”

I put my vehicle in drive, look over my shoulder, and pull away from the curb.

“Where are we going?” she asks, tugging her seatbelt across her body.

“Bowling.”

“Whaaat?”

“Yep.”

“I love bowling!”

“You do?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not just making me feel better for taking you on a lame date?”

Her lips curve upward. “I won’t know if it’s a lame date until later.”

“Ah. Good answer.”

I drive us to Freeze Frame, which is one of the oldest bowling alleys in Los Angeles. It’s been refurbished and has a really cool retro vibe, with antique furniture, the original vaulted wood ceiling, and big framed vintage posters on the walls.

Arya is practically bouncing as we wait to get our bowling shoes, and she snatches hers from the attendant and heads to our lane. She plops herself down on an old leather couch and switches out her pointy-toed flats for bowling shoes. She takes off her jacket and tosses it onto the couch.

Her T-shirt says “ZEN AF.”

I grin.

I watch in amusement as she tests out the shoes, then does a series of stretching moves.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Warming up.” She jumps up and down on the balls of her feet.

I rub my jaw. “Okay.”

Like a gentleman, I let her go first.

She holds the ball up in front of her, takes a few smooth steps, bringing her arm back and letting the ball roll off it. I stare as it zooms down the center of the lane and takes out all ten pins.

She laughs with delight and pumps her arms in the air. “Strike!”

“What the...”

She turns and skips back toward me. “I used to bowl in a league when I was younger.”

“Uh-oh.” I pick up a ball. “Why do I have a feeling I’m about to get my ass kicked?”

“Oh, come on.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “You’re a professional athlete.”

I purse my lips and focus as I aim my ball up the middle. It looks good at first, but somehow I put some curve on it and it hits the gutter when it nears the pins. “Damn!”

“Maybe you should have warmed up,” Arya suggests helpfully.

“Ha ha.”

“My team was named the Ball Busters,” she informs me.

I choke. “Okay, good to know.”

My next ball takes out a few center pins, leaving one on the left and two on the right.

“Split happens,” Arya says cheerfully. “That’s a six-seven-ten split. Would you like to know what my strategy would be?”

“I’m flattered that you think I have the ability to carry out any strategy,” I say. “My goal is basically to not end up in the gutter.”

She laughs again and stands next to me, leaning in. She points. “Go for the ten pin.” She nudges me over. “Line your body up with the ten pin... like so. But look at the right side of the six pin.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t know which pin is which.

She steps back to let me take the shot. “This is a hard shot for anyone.”

As expected, the ball rolls right through the empty space in the middle.

Also as expected, I lose. Who knew she was a kick-ass bowler? Usually I’m super competitive, but tonight? I don’t even care about losing because she’s having so much fun.

As we make our way to the bar for a beer and pizza, she pats my back. “Don’t feel bad. Bowling takes balls.”

I snort-laugh. “Funny.”

“I was going to tell you more bad bowling puns, but I thought I’d spare you.”

I laugh. “Enough!”

She grins. “Sorry. I’m pretty sure I know every bowling joke there is.”

God, I love it that her eyes are sparkling and her lips are tipped up in a happy curve.