Page 8 of Hockey Halloween

Willa

We step out of the museum after three a.m., the door clicking shut behind us. The streets are nearly empty now, the wind brushing fallen leaves along the sidewalk. The city feels suspended in time, reminding us that even a metropolitan like New York City needs to catch its breath sometimes.

Pulling my coat tighter around myself, I glance at Nolan. His hands are in his jacket pockets, that lazy, contented grin tugging at his mouth.

“Well,” I start, double-checking the door behind us is locked, “I’d say that was the best after-hours museum tour on record.”

“I think we made history.”

I let out a sound that’s a mix of a chuckle and a groan. “That was awful.”

“You still laughed.”

“Out of pity.”

He grins, nudging my arm as we start strolling. My apartment’s ten minutes away, and I’m in no hurry to end this night. Even the quiet feels good with him.

“You really love that place, don’t you?” Nolan asks two blocks later .

“The museum?”

“Yeah. I could tell. You were totally in your element.”

“I mean, it’s kind of my dream job. Getting access to rare archives and original correspondence…I live for that stuff.”

His lips curve, making me melt inside. “I enjoyed watching you geek out more than anything else we saw in there.”

My cheeks feel warm all of a sudden. Looking down at the sidewalk, then back at him, I try not to smile too wide. “You didn’t enjoy the commemorative bobblehead display of former Brooklyn players?”

“Look, I’m not declaring it was a life-changing experience, but the peacock statue with the monocle was more of a highlight. And that damn hot dog.”

My stomach chooses that moment to growl. Loudly. Ford raises his brows. “Was that you or a subway train?”

“Shut up,” I groan. “We skipped dinner and I’m starving.”

He straightens up like a man on a mission. “Alright then. Lead the way to a late-night slice. I trust your judgment.”

“You’re not familiar with Manhattan?”

“Nope,” he admits. “I don’t enjoy big crowds and the City is full of them. You can probably tell I only come here for games, rarely seeing much outside the arena and the hotel.”

“A little,” I tease. “But lucky for you, there’s a legendary pizza place nearby. It has a red neon sign that always flickers, so you can’t miss it. It’s a total hole-in-the-wall, one of those real deals.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere for cheesy goodness.”

We round the corner, the flickering red glow of Sal’s cutting through the night. The place is barely more than a box with fogged-up windows that have seen better decades but it’s open all day every day.

Walking in, the local hotspot smells like garlic, rich tomato sauce, and heaven. There’s a guy in a bumblebee costume nursing a slice and an older man sweeping behind the counter. We order two slices and a drink each, and take stools by the entrance. Our knees brush beneath the narrow table.

“If I die from happiness, it’s on you for keeping me out so long and feeding me one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth,” I moan after my first bite.

Ford watches me like I’m the only person in the room. “Worth it.”

He takes a bite of his own slice, and I watch his eyes widen slightly.

“Okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is dangerously good.”

“Right?” I gesture toward the counter. “Sal’s is open twenty-four hours for a reason. It’s saved more lives than aspirin.”

“Honestly, that might be true.” He glances over at me, pizza halfway to his mouth. “I’ve got a question…”

“Go for it.”

“What’s something totally niche you find interesting? Nothing to do with history or movies.”

I grin because I’ve a perfect answer. “Bird identification.”

He blinks. “You mean bird watching?”

“Kind of. I have this app that IDs birds by sound. I use it on my walks, and keep a running list of every species I’ve spotted in the City.”

“That’s kind of amazing. You keep surprising me with all these oddly cool things about you.”

I shrug, sipping my pop. “It started as a pandemic thing. I needed to get out of the apartment, and I guess I never stopped. Urban nature is wildly underrated.”

“Okay, you win.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t have one.”

He lets out a short, sheepish laugh. “I build LEGO sets. Big ones. I even did the Titanic last year.”

“That thing has nearly ten thousand pieces!”

“It’s actually nine thousand ninety pieces. Took me three weeks between the games and practices to put it together.” He beams proudly.

“Okay, first of all, I respect the commitment. Second, I love that we’re both closet nerds.”

“I’m not even in the closet about it,” he says, taking another bite of his food. “I posted a time-lapse of the build on Reddit. Got chirped by my teammates for weeks after one of them spotted it, recognizing my living room.”

“You think you could build a LEGO pigeon for me?”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “Only if you let me deliver it in person.”

“I would love nothing more.”

Something flickers between us at that moment. Not just attraction, but the kind of easy understanding that most people don’t find until they’ve known each other for years.

“So we’re all about history, movies, birds and LEGOs,” he sums up.

“That sounds like a solid foundation.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The cold bites sharper as we step outside after our late night dinner. Ford takes my hand and his calloused fingers feel like they belong against mine. He feels safe .

We walk another block, my steps slowing when we reach the familiar corner.

“This is me,” I point toward the building I have called home for five years.

“You sure you don’t live on a movie set? This place is exactly how they portray New York on TV.”

“Only on Tuesdays and during Mercury retrograde.”

The sound of his laughter travels all the way to the tips of my toes. Turning to face him, my hand still wrapped in his, I stretch up to kiss him.

This one lingers longer, being the kind of kiss that shifts the ground under your feet if you aren’t careful. The kind you’ll remember, even when everything else fades.

When I pull back, his eyes stay closed for half a second longer before opening. There’s something new there—dark and deep want. Lust even.

Gathering my nerves, I ask the question that’s been humming in my chest since we left the archives, “Do you want to come in? ”

He doesn’t answer right away, squeezing my hand. Then he says, “Only if I get to kiss you the rest of the night.”

He declares it so easily, making it the most obvious thing in the world. Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. I nod nervously and unlock the front door. The lobby is quiet, lit by the flicker of a single wall lamp and the low buzz of the exit sign.

The elevator’s ancient, so we take the stairs to my third floor apartment. We climb up, neither of us speaking, everything between us feeling loud with anticipation. Our hands are still touching and his thumb moves gently over mine.

By the time we reach my floor, the silence between us has shifted to something charged. I fumble with my keys, acutely aware of his presence behind me, close enough to feel but not touching. My entire being shakes slightly as I turn the lock.

Not because I’m nervous. Because I want this. So much more than I expected to. Somehow, I know he’s going to give me exactly what I want and more.