Page 38 of FWB
Tiegan
O n the first Monday of the new year, everyone is expected to be in the office. Larry has arranged a massive New Year’s brunch for the entire staff. Everyone is supposed to meet in the multipurpose room at noon for the festivities.
I head to the twelfth floor where the food and events are being held. Jerome is already there, talking with Rex. I walk over. “Hey, guys.”
“Hey, Tiegan,” Rex says, giving me a side hug.
“Hey, T. How are you holding up?” Jerome asks.
“Me? I’m great!” I say, a bit too enthusiastically. “I actually met someone.”
Both men gape at me.
“Yeah, I decided the best course of action, per the guidance and wise words of Kiersten, was to get over Kenny by getting under someone else. So that’s what I’ve done.”
Jerome’s mouth hangs open. Rex nods at me, approvingly.
Embarrassed, I continue. “Anyways, Rex, actually it’s your friend Torin that we met at the Goldford show.”
“Oh, wow. That’s an interesting development.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“No, of course not! We just want to make sure you’re okay,” Rex assures.
“As long as you’re happy, Tiegan. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Jerome says, worried.
“I am!” I say a little too quickly.
He doesn’t look convinced. Jerome has always been excellent at reading me.
“Oh, look! They’re opening the food up. Let’s go. I want first dibs on the stuffed cheesecake French toast,” Rex gushes, breaking the tension. Rex and his free food.
As I’m piling my plate high with French toast, bacon, scrambled eggs, and more, I look toward the open doorway as Kenny walks through.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that night.
The sight of him takes my breath away. Jerome has to nudge me to start moving again because I’m holding up the line.
I grab my coffee from the cart, plate of now-unwanted food in hand, and head towards the table Rex is occupying.
I sit across from Rex and Jerome takes the open seat between us to my right, leaving the seat to my left open.
“Oh, shit!” Rex hisses. He looks at me, plastering on a pleasant fake smile, and says through gritted teeth, “He’s coming over here. Don’t panic.”
“Who’s coming over here?” I ask, beginning to turn in my seat, but Rex stops me with a hiss. I have a pretty good guess who he is referring to. I brace myself for interaction, food in front of me forgotten.
“Hey, guys. Tiegan,” a smooth voice says from behind me, a voice I would know even in death. Kenny comes around to my left side, holding a cup of coffee. “How was everyone’s holidays?” he asks the table, but looking at me.
I blanch, trying to avoid direct eye contact.
Jerome senses the tension and answers, “It was a good time! How was your break? Did you go to Boston for the holidays?”
Kenny hesitates a beat before answering, which causes me to take my first good look at him.
He got a haircut recently. It looks good.
His beard is nicely shaped too. But something about him looks off.
He looks tired for some reason. Has he been sleeping?
If not, that would explain the bags under his eyes.
“It was fine, but no. Some … personal stuff happened that kept me in Nashville. But I didn’t mind spending the holidays at home,” Kenny finally replies.
This gives me pause. What could possibly have happened for him to not only skip out on going back to see his family but still take two weeks off work?
I speak to him for the first time in weeks. “Did your personal issues get resolved during your time away from the office? I haven’t seen you around much.”
A sheen of sweat starts to coat his brow. He waits at least ten seconds before finally replying. “Not really, but I’m working on it.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can’t sit here, this close to him, without wanting to explode. I pretend I need to make a phone call before lunch is over and excuse myself from the table. In reality, I go to the bathroom and cry for the rest of the hour.
I continue to text Torin regularly, and he usually calls to hook up after work at least three days of the week. It’s nice to feel wanted.
He can’t shut up about the Bruins versus Predators game this Saturday. I’m excited to go, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish it was Kenny accompanying me. I could have sold the tickets, but I wanted to experience it for myself. I’m making the best out of the situation.
On Saturday, I pick Torin up at his house so he doesn’t have to pay for parking—the perks of working downtown.
We head to my building’s parking garage, and walk the two blocks to Bridgestone Arena.
Torin is wearing a Bruins T-shirt and I’m in a Predators jersey that he let me borrow.
It smells like him, clean with that hint of mint.
He’s getting some dirty looks thrown his way from some hardcore Preds fans.
One guy even comes up and “boos” in his face. Torin shrugs him off.
Once inside the arena, it’s a madhouse of blue and yellow. Swarms of die-hard Predators fans crowd the halls, donning jerseys belonging to their favorite players while standing in line for concessions and alcohol. There’s very little Bruins gear in the mix, so Torin sticks out like a sore thumb.
“Where to first? Want to get some food and drinks or do you want to find our seats?” he asks.
“Let’s go ahead and check out our seats. I’m anxious to see how close we are to the ice.”
We make our way to section 106, and head to row CC, seats four and five. We are directly in the center of the rink against the penalty box, three rows from the plexiglass.
“These seats are incredible! “ Torin gushes, putting his arm around the back of my seat once settled. “I didn’t know you were this much of a hockey fan.”
I squirm in my seat. “Well, I bought these tickets for someone I was seeing months ago. He’s also a big Bruins fan. But that relationship fell through so here we are.”
“Well, his loss is my gain. Both with the seats and the girl,” he says with a wink.
I smile at him, my anxiety starting to ease. Torin is really great, and I’ve been having a lot of fun with him. I just need to give this more time to blossom.
“I’m gonna run to the restroom and grab a pretzel. Want anything?” I ask, getting hungry.
“Nah, I’m okay right now.”
I make my way up the stairs back into the maze of people. After I freshen up in the ladies’ room, I head to one of the concession stands near our section and order a salted pretzel with cheese and a Dr. Pepper.
When I turn around, I spot him immediately.
He’s in a Bruins jersey and he’s talking to the guy standing next to him, wearing a Bruins T-shirt.
I recognize him as Sam from Kenny’s tagged social media.
They’re laughing at something Kenny said.
I need to get out of here. Now. But before I can make my getaway under the cover of the crowd, Kenny looks over and spots me, looking like an idiot holding my forgotten pretzel.
He walks over. “Tiegan?” he asks when he’s close enough for me to hear him.
“Hi,” is all I can manage to squeak out in the smallest voice possible.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the game. Duh.”
“Well, I get that. But why? You don’t even like hockey.”
Before I can answer, Sam comes up. He holds out his hand for me to shake and places his other on Kenny’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m Sam. You must be the Tiegan I’ve heard so much about?”
I take his hand, too stunned to say anything for a good three seconds. Finally, I blurt out, “I’m sorry. He told you about me?“ It was the only thing I could think to say. Kenny made it very clear we were to be kept a secret. What changed to make him talk to Sam about me?
Sam slowly retrieves his hand. “Uh, yeah. Why? Was I not supposed to know?”
“Just stop talking, please,” Kenny mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Right,” I say, feeling like I’ve met my awkwardness quota of the day. “I’m gonna get back to my seats. My date is waiting.”
“Date? What date?” Kenny demands.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
I can feel his eyes on my back as turn and walk away.