Page 16

16

Liam

“ I think we should go on a date,” I said when a freshly showered Lenny walked back into her room.

“And why is that?” she asked as she sat at her vanity table, pulling her hair out of its pineapple and shaking her curls out. It was the first time I had seen her hair down in years. I was surprised by how much longer it was as she teased it back into shape, the ends now nearly touching the bottom of her shoulder blades.

“Because we’re dating. It’s Christmas in New York and it would be weird if we stayed holed up indoors for the next two weeks,” I reeled off.

“We are only dating in the eyes of four people,” she said as she twisted around to face me, the beam of sunlight from behind the curtains of her window made her brown eyes look golden.

“Who will think it is weird if we stay indoors for the next two weeks,” I pointed out. I also really wanted to get out of the house and go somewhere, anywhere. I needed a distraction, so I was less likely to get lost in thoughts of pressing Lenny against any and all hard surfaces. Now that I knew what she felt like pressed up against my body in the middle of the night, how she sighed herself into an even deeper sleep as she had turned over and rested her head on my chest this morning, it made me imagine all the other sounds I could maybe coax out of her if given half the chance.

Getting outside would be good for both of us. It was unlikely that she had an exhibitionism kink, and I had been followed by enough cameras in my life to wrestle mine into submission.

“Alright, fine. What did you have in mind?” she asked as she expertly parted her hair with her fingers.

Absolutely nothing. Then I remembered a very particular thing about Lenny. “You still do that thing where you have to get a doughnut every time you see one?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Alright, you wanna go get a doughnut?”

“I thought you wanted breakfast. You can’t eat doughnuts for breakfast,” she said as she twisted the front section of her hair back and secured it into a bun on top of her head.

“Alright, Mom. No one said that we were only going to get doughnuts. We can get other food. Like a croissant.”

“Please don’t jokingly call me Mom. Not when I know what your dick feels like against my ass.” She carried about her business casually, like she hadn’t just short-circuited a part of my brain. There was no reason for it to behave like that. All she had said was dick and it was almost clinical the way she had said it. Except I could still vividly recall the feeling of her up against me and it had felt so good .

“Fine, I won’t call you that again. We should also see the lights at some point before Christmas Eve. Oh, and I want to go to the rink at some point.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never gotten to slowly skate around in circles holding someone’s hand before binning it off and drinking boozy hot chocolate instead, and this feels like the perfect time to rectify that situation.” I’d never thought about doing it before, but I wanted to do that with her. Desperately.

“You’re supposed to do those things with a girlfriend.”

I raised my scarred eyebrow. “Is that not what you are?”

She paused for a moment before she sighed. “Technically, yes.”

“So, technically, you should be the one that I do what with. I mean, I am sure I could find someone else—”

“That won’t be necessary. I will get back on a pair of knives for you,” she cut in, her eyes locking with mine in the reflection. I fought the smile that threatened to break out on my face.

“When were you last on skates?” I asked out of curiosity. She twisted her torso around to face me.

“I dunno, a while.”

“Have you ever slowly skated around with a date?” I don’t know why I was asking; I didn’t really want to know. Something about the idea of her skating with someone else sat oddly with me.

“As far as every man I’ve ever dated is concerned, I don’t have the balance that is required for biking, skating, or skiing.”

My eyebrows creased; Lenny could do all those things. Well. I’d taught her how to ride a bike, we’d been skating since we were six, and we’d been skiing together multiple times. In the same place she was supposed to be spending this holiday .

“But weren’t you going to Aspen?”

“Yeah, that’s where Kai’s family always spend the holidays. If I was spending them with him, that was where we went.”

“What the hell did you do when you were there then if you didn’t ski?”

“Ate. Enjoyed the scenery. Slept. Enjoyed the hot tub in my room with a book. Drank a lot of hot chocolate. I was never there for that long, and everyone understood that with my handful of days off, I wanted to completely switch off and not partake in any kind of physical activity.”

“Why didn’t you want them to know you could do those things?”

“Okay, I told a small lie. I went on a date with a guy that first December at college and he couldn’t skate properly. He felt very hurt by the fact that not only could I skate, but I was also very good at it. He ghosted me and I dunno, I guess eighteen-year-old me internalised that and now I say I can’t skate for the sake of the fragile male ego.”

“So, can I take you on a slow skate date? I promise not to be offended when you skate better than me.”

“No, I think you should be embarrassed if I can out-skate you, Muller. I haven’t been ice skating for twelve years, whereas you were doing it professionally until mere months ago.”

“Still haven’t heard a yes.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying yes to anymore.”

“Doughnuts today. Ice rink later in the week. Date afternoon with the lights. I guess we can go to the city as well if you want?”

“So I’m saying yes to four whole dates?”

“Someone once paid good money to go on a date with me,” I teased.

“I hope it went to a good cause. What did you offer for this date?”

“It was a dinner date. I am offering you experiences that don’t involve being chained to a table surrounded by other people staring at us trying to figure out if I am who they think I am.”

“Skating with a professional ice hockey player is quite the experience, but surely it invites the same ‘Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?’ problem?”

“Wouldn’t know. I haven’t skated in a public skate rink since turning pro, but I like to think I cut a slightly different figure when I’m decked out in all the pads, so being out of them is the disguise.”

“No way in hell you aren’t being recognised the moment you put a pair of skates on.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Huh?”

“I think I won’t be recognised on an ice rink, you think I will, so what does the winner get?”

“Well, what do you want?”

A montage of X-rated activities flashed through my mind.

“A year’s supply of brownies,” I said aloud.

“Fine. I’ll get back to you on what I want.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I just need to put a sweater on.”

I watched her move from the vanity and squat down next to her still-unpacked suitcase. I’d unpacked while she had been in the bathroom, making use of all the pockets of space in her room that I knew she was unlikely to fill because they had always been empty when we were teenagers. I forgot that I wouldn’t need to show that level of consideration because Lenny showed no signs of unpacking. Instead, she seemed perfectly content to simply lift things and move them somewhere else in the suitcase until she found what she wanted. She let out a noise of triumph as she pulled out a sweater.

A million years ago, I lost a sweater. It had been as close to perfect as you could get. It didn’t feel too tight around my neck, the sleeves were the perfect length, it was soft all the time and was so perfectly snuggly that I wanted to live in it. And I did, until it went missing. I had worn it to a practice and assumed I had left it in a locker or on a bench in the locker room. But it never showed up, no matter how many times I checked lost and found. I mourned the loss of it for about a month and then let it go and searched for a new favourite sweater.

I never found one.

I was now looking at my favourite sweater, draped over the curves and edges of Alana’s body. I thought I was imagining it, but no, it was definitely my sweater. It looked just as soft as it had been thirteen years ago, the sleeves just as perfectly long. The neckline looked a little looser, but it still looked like the perfect sweater.

It looked perfect on her.

Lenny caught me staring and quirked an eyebrow like she was daring me to say something while she flicked her hair out from under the neckline of the sweater.

“Nice sweater,” I said as I stood up. “Let’s get you a doughnut.” I held my hand out to her. She stared at it, and I expected her to say something, but she simply put her hand in mine and I led her out of the room.