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CHAPTER TEN

Marissa

I stare after Dozer for far too long before getting in my car, which means I have to hustle so I’m not late to my meeting.

But any time my thoughts have space to wander over the next few days, I keep coming back to wondering what Dozer’s going to get or do for me to pay me back for changing his battery.

The prospect fills me with a sort of nervous anticipation. Will it be something good? Something fun? What if I hate it?

Of course, I have zero clue what he might try to do for me, especially now that I’ve turned down the most obvious offers of food or help.

Maybe I should’ve texted him when I decided to hang my pictures. But I was in the mood to get it done. I wanted to do it my way without any outside interference or someone else butting in their opinions.

As much as I love my mother, I’ve never moved into or decorated a place without her inserting her opinion under the guise of “help.” Even if I ended up doing whatever I wanted anyway, it was always under this vague shadow of her disapproval or approval.

I just … for once, I wanted something that’s all mine.

I got this job on my own. I found my condo on my own. And I wanted to decorate it on my own as well.

Sure, Dozer said he’d just be extra hands for me to order around. But how many times have I heard that only for the extra hands to be attached to someone who doesn’t like when I tell them what to do? Or thinks they know better?

Too many to count.

Every time the thoughts pop up, I tell myself I need to focus on work or my project and put the idea out of my mind. After a few days, I pretty much forget about it. Until I get a text from him.

Dozer

Okay. I wanted to make this all fancy and have it delivered to your door, but I don’t know which unit you live in. And asking would be weird. So digital it is.

Then he sends a link. I read the text three times, my brow furrowed in confusion at the crypticness of all this.

What are you talking about?

Click the link

“How does he know I didn’t click on it?” I murmur to myself, my finger hovering over the screen. Why am I so hesitant to click it, though?

Shaking my head at myself, I finally tap the link, and I’m taken to a page confirming two tickets for a game between the Emeralds and the Beavers.

It’s the season opener. I don’t know if you like hockey, but it seemed like the best option to pay you back. They’re prime seats at center ice on our side. I got you two tickets so you can bring a friend. The game’s on Friday. I know it’s not a lot of notice, so if you can’t make it this weekend, let me know and I can get tickets for a different game instead

Once again, I blink at the screen and reread his message a few times. “He got me tickets to a hockey game?”

But of course he did. He’s a professional hockey player. He probably gets them for free, which is why he can just get different ones if I’m not available on Friday.

Hitching my mouth to the side, I contemplate this as payback. I mean, it really is pretty on par, isn’t it? From someone else, tickets to a professional hockey game would be a bit over the top, but they don’t cost him any actual money. Just like me showing him how to change a battery didn’t cost anything. I suppose maybe ice skating lessons would be more equivalent, but I can see why he wouldn’t suggest that. Too much like a date, after all, and I already turned him down for dinner.

Oh god. You hate it, don’t you? Fuck, how’m I ever going to pay you back if you won’t let me?

Laughing, I type out a response.

No, I don’t hate it. I’m just … I don’t know how to respond. Thank you. I don’t need two tickets, though. I don’t really know anyone here that I’d want to bring.

You’re not trolling dating apps looking for guys to hang out with?

Ha. No. Not interested. I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now.

I hesitate for a second, rereading the last sentence, but then hit send. It’s the truth. And maybe it’ll mean he’ll stop looking at my lips like he wants to see if I’m wearing flavored lip gloss next time we bump into each other.

Although, I have to admit it’s gratifying to have him look at me that way. Especially since he’s not leering. He doesn’t try anything.

Despite myself, I actually like him. Working together on his car revealed a side of him I didn’t expect. He’s funny, thoughtful, and seems to genuinely care about his friends and family. And the fact that he’s so insistent on paying me back for my help is admirable and endearing. Even if it feels … odd.

That’s the thing, now that I realize it. I never really expected him to insist on his offer to repay my favor. Sure, if I’d taken him up on his offer of dinner, I’m sure he would’ve followed through. But at that point, it didn’t seem wise to accept. I figured he’d drop it at that point, assuming his offer to help hang pictures was more pro forma than genuine, and I never intended to ask for his help with that.

I’m used to men accepting my help as only natural, like they’re owed the assistance of anyone and everyone who’s capable of helping. Some of them offer to do you a favor in return, but I don’t think anyone’s ever gone out of his way to make sure to return the favor like this.

Noted. Well, you have two tickets if you find someone to invite. You should still come anyway. You’ll have fun.

Promise?

He sends back a gif of someone drawing an X over their heart, and I can’t help but laugh.

I’ve never been to a hockey game before. Anything I should know?

What?? A hockey virgin??

Not really. Wear layers. The ice makes the arena a little chilly, but a big enough crowd can make it warmer

Good to know. I’ll leave my football hat and mittens at home

Oohhh, you’re a football fan, huh?

It’s genetic. My parents are big into football. My younger brother played through college, and one of his former roommates made it to the pros

So you’ve got all kinds of connections to high powered people—a sister who’s married to a pop star and a brother with pro football friends

And apparently a neighbor who’ll get me hockey tickets

Just say the word, and I’ll have you at all my home games

You’re not going to offer to take me on the road with you?? I’m offended

I might’ve, but then I found out you’re a football fan …

It’s not my fault I wasn’t born into a hockey family. Still, might be wise for me to try out one game before I commit to more

There’s a long pause with no response, and I stare at my phone for far too long, hoping he’ll say something else. But he doesn’t.

“Maybe he got busy,” I tell myself, looking around my apartment to find something to do.

But now my once-cozy condo feels claustrophobic. I’ve eaten dinner. I’ve cleaned up. I have my TV set up and my bedroom and living room are mostly decorated. The things that are still in boxes aren’t anything I need to unpack right away. And the thought of unpacking more right now feels stifling.

Talking to Dozer made me realize how lonely I am here. And even that little bit of electronic connection makes me crave more.

I could text him again. Ask him if he’s busy. See if he wants to go out with me and grab a drink or something …

But no. That strays too close to date territory.

Unless …

If I say just as friends, would he believe that? Or respect it?

Sighing, I decide to go for it. Worst case, he tries to make a move, I block his number, and I’m still at zero friends in town.

I’m bored and tired of being at home. As I’ve said, I don’t really have any friends here. Would you like to be my friend and meet me somewhere for a drink? I don’t know any great spots, so I’m open to suggestions. But I’m also capable of opening Google maps and seeing what’s in the area if you want me to pick

Once again, the response time is longer than I’d like. But at last, my phone dings with his response.

Before I answer, I just want to make sure that this is a friends invite? You mentioned that you’re not looking for a boyfriend, and I just want to be clear that I’m not looking for a girlfriend either

Strictly friends

Awesome. There’s a cool little spot close to the arena that we like to go to. People don’t hassle us there. The owner’s cool and keeps a back booth reserved for players any night of the week. I can drive.

Sounds perfect. Let me know when you’re ready to go.

And just like that, my spirits lift. I can’t even remember the last time I went out for a drink with a friend. It’ll be interesting being out with someone who has to worry about things like being hassled in public.

Looking down at myself, I decide I need to change out of my loungewear and head to my closet to pick out an outfit that’s classy enough to be seen in public with a professional hockey player but doesn’t scream date.

I settle on a purple silk top paired with jeans and sneakers with my leather blazer over the top. It’s a nice combo of dressy casual, in my opinion.

I’m just settling the jacket on my shoulders when my phone dings with another text from Dozer.

Heading to my car. See you there