Page 22
Story: Hit Me With Your Best Shot
22
austin
“ W hat was the first thing going through your mind when I was shit talking you at Five Alarm that night you were sitting at the bar?”
I ask him from out of the dark, holding his hand in mine.
It’s pitch black, and we’ve been laying here in silence since we climbed into his bed, enjoying the kind of comfortable that settles in when you’ve said everything—but still want to be near each other.
I love this solitude.
And his sheets.
And his bed.
“I loved your sassy mouth,” he says softly. “And I thought you were so freaking gorgeous.”
I furrow my brow. “You thought I was gorgeous while I was insulting you?”
He is so strange, ha ha.
“Absolutely. You were fearless. A little terrifying, actually.”
“Terrifying?” I tease, nudging his ankle with my toe.
“Pretty, confident women are always a little intimidating, don’t you think?”
I smile into the blanket. “You’re so sweet. ”
“Thanks.” He pauses. “You were exactly what I didn’t know I was looking for.”
I melt into the mattress. “Without prying, I really have to ask what all that nonsense was between you and Nova—the love at first sight stuff.”
Gio squeezes my hand. “I thought we agreed we were going to blame the wine for her blurting that out.”
“Don’t deflect. I want to know.”
“Fine. It wasn’t about you specifically.”
“I wasn’t thinking it was.” But that has me wondering …
“It wasn’t about you specifically tonight. But I’ve been thinking about it more since you came into my life.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t really believe in that kind of thing before. Love at first sight. Soulmates. All that Hallmark love stuff.”
“And now?”
“Now, I think maybe it’s not so impossible. You’ve got me reconsidering everything.”
Wow. I have no idea what to say.
I roll toward him, tucking a hand beneath my chin. “I had no idea what to say so I said I didn't believe in it. When she asked, I panicked. I didn’t want to sound naive.”
Silence.
“You sounded like someone who’s careful about who they let in. I respect that.”
“I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper. “But I do know you gave me butterflies at Five Alarm—and when I saw you, I didn’t know it was you. I thought you were just some random, good-looking guy.”
“Random and good-looking,” he repeats, a teasing edge to his voice. “I’ll take it.”
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. “You know what I mean.”
“So—we got the kid talk and the love at first sight talk out of the way. What are the other big ones we should throw out there now that we’re being all deep and honest?”
He can’t see my grin. “You mean like marriage? The zombie apocalypse?”
“Sure.”
“Marriage—yes, but I have to be sure. Zombies? Hard no. I’m not surviving anything if they’re faster than I am and where would I even run?”
He laughs, the sound low and warm in the quiet room. “Noted. I have to save both our asses.”
“Facts.” Pause. “What about you? Marriage…”
“Yeah, for sure. For the right person.”
My face gets even hotter, and I’m grateful he can’t see me blushing in the dark.
I can’t believe we’re discussing this stuff. I feel like such an adult!
“How do you even know when it’s the right person?”
“You just know,” he says simply. “At least, that’s what I’ve always heard.”
“That’s scary.”
“A little,” he agrees, his hand finding mine under the blanket. “But I think it’s also kind of amazing.” Gio pauses. “Any deal breakers besides someone being a Bruins fan?”
Ha ha. But also, true.
I think for a moment, letting his hand settle warmly over mine.
“Someone who doesn’t respect boundaries. Or someone who’s rude to waitstaff. That’s an automatic no.”
“Solid picks,” he agrees. “Anyone who mistreats dogs is dead to me.”
“Okay, good one!” I admit. “Even if Gio sometimes makes me question my sanity.” I go quiet as I think for a few seconds. “Someone who doesn’t know how to communicate, which I have to give you kudos for. You’re amazing.”
“That’s a big one. I agree. ”
“Your turn. What are your deal breakers?”
“Hmm.” He pretends to think, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Well, besides Bruins fans, obviously, I’d say someone who doesn’t laugh at my jokes.”
“There are women who don’t laugh at your jokes?” I repeat, sounding as horrified as I feel. “That’s tragic.”
“Can you believe it? Crazy,” he says. “But, you know, not everyone has good taste.”
“Clearly.”
“Exactly. So, they’re out. Automatic deal breaker.”
“Fair enough,” I say, nodding into the dark. “What else?”
“I guess someone who doesn’t respect my time. Like, if they can’t handle that I’ve got a busy life, it’s not gonna work.”
“That’s fair,” I say softly, appreciating the honesty in his tone.
“What about you?” he asks. “Anything else you haven’t told me yet?”
I think for a moment, letting the silence stretch out. “Probably someone who isn’t kind. Like, I don’t care how smart or funny or good-looking you are—if you’re not a good person, it’s a no.”
“Agreed,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Kindness is non-negotiable.”
The mattress sinks as he rolls toward me, searching for my face in the dark, his lips finding the bridge of my nose and kissing it.
“I love spending time with you.”
“I love spending time with you too,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” he says, his hand brushing lightly over my cheek. “Because I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough of it.”
I’m not sure what he means by that. His words hang between us, heavy and soft, and I feel his breath against my cheek, warm and steady.
“What do you mean?” I ask quietly, my heart thudding in my chest. “You make it sound so simple. ”
“Maybe it is,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “Maybe you and I overthink things too much. Now I understand why people complicate things.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Because they’re scared,” he says simply. “Scared of how easy it could be if they’d relax and let the universe work its magic.”
I stare into the darkness. “That’s not how it works though. It can’t always be that easy. Relationships are messy and complicated.”
“Sure. Sometimes,” he says. “But not always. Not every second of every day needs to be hard. If it’s right, it should feel good, shouldn’t it?”
I’m not certain how to put my thoughts into words.
“I guess I’ve just always thought love was supposed to be hard. My parents fought a lot when I was younger so that was the example. It’s hard to unlearn that, you know?”
“I know,” he says quietly into the dark room. “It’s like hockey—you practice, you work at it, and yeah, sometimes you lose. But when you’re on the right team? The wins outweigh everything else.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Only you would compare love to hockey.”
“Hey, it’s a good metaphor,” he says, grinning. “You’ve got to trust your teammates, be willing to pass the puck, and know when to take the shot.”
“And what happens when your team screws up?”
He’s silent for a moment. “Then you regroup, figure out what went wrong, and try again. You don’t just quit because it gets hard.”
I don’t have a response, not one that feels big enough for the moment. So instead, I let my head rest against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me into a quiet sense of calm.
“You’re right. Showing up is half the battle. ”
He nods, kissing the top of my head.
The simple gesture sends a wave of warmth through me, and I close my eyes.
Gio is such a contradiction. Outwardly, he’s everything you’d expect a big jock to be—confident, a little cocky, with a grin that could charm anyone in the room. But moments like this? They reveal something so much deeper.
He’s introspective. Polite, but not too polite.
Funny.
Considerate. Kind.
Handsome, obviously –but so much more.
Thoughtful in ways that constantly surprise me. Sensitive in a way that doesn’t feel forced or performative, but real .
It’s strange, because when I watched him on television, went to his games and followed him on social media, I thought I had him figured out: another athlete with a God complex, a guy who cared more about his stats and image than anything else.
Piece by piece, he’s shown me the parts of himself that don’t fit that narrative.
The way he talks about his sister and his teammates is with so much care and affection—and the effort he’s making to show me he’s interested in me as a person, and not just a casual bang…
Gio is the guy willing to admit when he’s scared, who wants to know what makes me tick—not just on the surface, but the things that make me me.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft in the dark. “Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
I hesitate, wondering how much I should share.
“About you,” I admit. “How you’re not what I expected.”
“ Good different or bad different?” he asks, his tone teasing but with curiosity .
“Good different,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks warm even though he can’t see me. “You’re more than what I expected.”
“More, huh?” I can hear him grinning. “I like the sound of that.”
I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“No promises,” he says, chuckling. “My head is already super big.”
I get the innuendo about his dick and ignore it.
“I noticed,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it.
“It must be exhausting carrying all that ego around.”
“It’s a burden,” he agrees, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But someone’s gotta do it.” Gio pauses a beat. “On a scale of one to ten, how into me are you?”
Whoa. “Where did that question come from?”
“Just asking,” he says casually, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s science based.”
“Science based?” I repeat, laughing softly.
“Yep. Completely unbiased research,” he says. “So? One to ten.”
“Hmm—probably a solid six?” I tease.
“A six?” he exclaims loudly, voice filling the room. He is so offended. “That’s barely above average!”
I try not to laugh. “What’s my score?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he says without missing a beat. “A twelve.”
Somehow I knew he was going to say that.
I squeeze his hand. “I was messing with you.” Obviously. “I’d give you an eleven.”
He is the most loveable, sweetest guy I've ever dated and it's only been two weeks .
“An eleven? Not even a twelve, like you?”
I laugh softly, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “You have to leave room for improvement.”
“Oh, so this is a motivational thing? Got it. ”
“Exactly.” I yawn. “Consider it an incentive to keep being sweet to me.”
I squeeze his hand again, my heart swelling at how easy this feels—how easy he feels. Somehow he has managed to completely dismantle every wall I’ve built around myself.
“You’re kind of the best,” I admit with a quiet whisper as if I’m admitting it to myself.
“You’re the best,” he murmurs.
I smile, my fingers tracing small patterns against his palm. “You don’t have to say that just because I called you the best.”
“I mean it.”
I tilt my head slightly to look up at him, even though the room is dark and I can’t make out his expression. “You’re really good at this whole relationship thing.”
“Thanks,” he says, his tone teasing. “I’m trying.”
“No, seriously,” I say, my voice softening. “You’re like—the best communicator I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re making it hard not to fall for you.”
My breath catches, my chest tightening in the best possible way.
I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that .
I don’t know how to respond, so instead, I let him pull me closer, wrapping me in his arms like he’s afraid to let go. His warmth surrounds me, and I let myself sink into it, my head resting against his chest.
“Is that okay?” he asks softly, breaking the silence. “That I’m falling?”
I press my cheek against him, his heartbeat steady and sure beneath my ear.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Of course it’s okay.”
I feel his lips press lightly against the top of my head, a gesture so sweet it makes my chest ache. “You scare me a little,” he admits quietly .
“Me?” I ask, tilting my head to look up at him again, even though I can’t see his face.
“Yeah,” he says, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on my back.
“You make me want things I didn’t think I’d want this soon.” He doesn’t say what those things are.
We fall into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that feels full even though no words are spoken. His hand moves to tangle with mine again, our fingers lacing together under the blanket. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes me feel grounded—safe.
“You’re the easiest person to be around,” I murmur, almost to myself.
“So are you,” Gio replies, squeezing my hand.
I don’t know how long we lay there like that, wrapped up in each other, but my body starts to relax, the weight of the day slipping away. My eyelids grow heavy, my mind finally quiet for the first time in what feels like forever.
“I think I could get used to this,” I whisper sleepily, my voice fading.
“Me too,” he says, his words soft and full of promise.
The last thing I feel before sleep takes me is the gentle squeeze of his hand, his thumb brushing lightly against mine, as if to say, I’m here.