Wednesday, September 4, 2013

twelve

“You’re coming, right?” James called from his room.

Meghan looked at herself in the full length mirror and sighed.  She should go.  It was Dan’s birthday and he was her friend too.  Plus she’d been alternating between acting fine and moping in her room, hiding from James, thinking about John.

That will stop, Meghan thought.  But it would stop sooner if she thought about something else.  In the two days since their boat trip, she’d been avoiding John.  He was too…

Surprising.  She had to admit it.  John had been more flirtatious and forward than she ever expected in dating him, and showed no signs of stopping now that she’d called it off.  The moment at his car, the only time they were alone the whole day of boating, John fearlessly reminded Meghan that she had kissed him first once.  Almost like it was an invitation to do it again.

She shook out her hair, swiped a coat of clear gloss onto her lips and tucked it into the pocket of her leopard print shorts.  A simple black, thin-strapped tank balanced them out and Meghan wore a delicate gold chain around her neck.  Pushing her feet into flat black gladiator sandals, she followed the sound of James’ footsteps down to the living room.

James glanced over his shoulder casually when he should have turned.  He should have been prepared for the sucker punch that was every time he saw Meghan lately.  She seemed fine without Tavares, but got prickly when James pointed it out.  Not that he wanted to be talking about John anyway.  Instead he saw the light glint off her shiny lips and felt his body roar to kiss them again.

That kiss had been something - all exclamation points and a lifetime of I-told-you-so’s heated till they boiled over into a desperate, urgent, terrifying kiss.  James had taken a huge risk.  Meghan had turned him down - sort of.  She fought off his physical advance, but the very next morning she was in his arms, accepting his apology and asking if he wanted to be with her.  James had said no: part lie, part truth.  He sure as hell didn’t want to get turned down again.

A few nights later he’d gone to his car with a girl from the bar, gotten his rocks off and not even brought her home.  In truth it was exhausting and dissatisfying - the way she clung to him, the obviousness of her advances.  Even the way she acted like his was the best dick she’d ever sucked.  James thought about Meghan seeing him with a girl like that and almost couldn’t finish the job.

Now, in the home they shared, Meghan looked like two people: one he’d always had and one he couldn’t have at all.

Meghan stuffed her phone into her back pocket and turned to find James watching her carefully.  She smiled.  “You’re getting really skinny.”

He glanced down at his copper-colored t-shirt and khaki shorts.  “Yeah, my shirts are all starting to fit.”

“So disappointing,” she said, clicking her tongue.

The bar was crowded, as Thursdays always were.  Meghan stepped aside to let James plow the way, but he touched the small of her back and guided them through the press together.  His big, strong hand was warm through her shirt.  Even when they reached their friends, hugging hello and meeting new people, James was never more than arm’s length away.  Until Lucy arrived.

James unconsciously dropped his hand.  “Hey Lucy.”

“Hey Neal,” she said, tugging at the hem of his shirt.  “You look devastating as always.”

He laughed.  No one flirted with him and got away with it like Lucy did, because no one was more off limits than Meghan’s best friend.  Except of course, Meghan herself.  Or she had been.

“And you’re just going to tell me no, as always,” he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Lucy rolled her expertly lined eyes.  “That doesn’t mean I want you to stop asking.”

A pitcher of beer landed on the table.  More people pushed in.  Dan the birthday boy arrived to a  round of applause and another round of drinks.  Meghan laughed and talked with a lot of people she hadn’t seen in awhile, feeling better than she had all week.  The beer helped.

“So,” Lucy said quietly as a group conversation lulled.  “Where’s your heartbroken suitor?”

“Stop,” Meghan insisted.  “He’s probably out with his friends, meeting some other girl right now.  No one gets heartbroken after two weeks.”

“Except you.”

Meghan gave Lucy a glare.  “I am not.”

“And I’m not the one following you around the bar….” her words trailed off as James’ arm came along Meghan’s waist again.  He was smiling, talking to someone over one shoulder even as he closed in around her.  When he looked down, James was smiling.

The body that looked skinny didn’t feel that way.  Meghan felt two hundred pounds of lean, developed muscle press against her side, bleeding heat through thin layers.  James’ hair was styled between a sexy mess and a downright mess, but that big easy smile was never less than perfect.

“Hi,” he said cutely.

Drunk, Meghan knew.  “Hi.”

James knew he probably shouldn’t be talking to Meghan right now, when he felt loose and buzzed and touchy.  But he was more afraid of talking to any other girl in this state.  Another girl would give him what he asked for, not what he wanted.

“I’m glad you came out,” James told her.

“Me too,” Meghad squeezed his side.  

Just then Dan and a few guys called out to James.  They had a tray of glasses and a few eager-looking girls plucked from nearby barstools to join them.  Dan held out a drink.  “Shot?”
“Nah,” James said.  “I’m already leaving with the hottest girl here.”
____

And he did.  Meghan was a little surprised - James hardly even talked to a girl he didn’t already know.  A few hopefuls looked vexed, and one or two gave Meghan the death stare.  It wasn’t her fault he kept standing next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders or twisting a piece of her hair around his long fingers.  But that’s it - he never asked her to dance, never touched her skin.  James just hovered in his tall, gorgeous way like a forcefield keeping everyone away.

Meghan had driven, which proved to be necessary.  James went easily into the passenger seat and only took two tries to buckle himself in.  Fifteen minutes later Meghan turned the key in the front door.  James shuffled straight up the stairs like a good little boy.  She retrieved the standard Gatorade first-aid supplies and intended to find aspirin, but when she passed James’ door he was already face-down on the bed, asleep.

“You dork,” she said out loud, pulling off his flip-flops.  She removed his backwards baseball cap and sat down next to him, letting the soft curls of his hair wrap around her fingertips.  She missed this - touching him, caring about him openly without worrying he was getting the wrong idea.  A faint sunburn ran perfectly straight along the back of his neck.  She traced it lightly.  

The last time she’d put a drunk guy to bed in this house it was John.  She sat with him until he fell asleep, indulging her urge to be close without being candid.  He told her she was pretty and she had kissed him for that, though he didn’t remember.  Meghan leaned down and lightly brushed her lips along the curve of James’ ear.

“Night, James.”
____

Friday morning, James felt none the worse for wear as he scarfed down some oatmeal and a banana in front of the open refrigerator.  Meghan came trotting in wearing running shorts and a  racerback tank.

“Juice,” she said, ponytail swinging.  James handed over the OJ and she took a big swig from the carton, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave it back.  He drank from it next, thinking of an orange-flavored kiss.

It had been nice to go out with Meghan like the old days.  No pressure.  No other guys waiting to swoop in and steal her attention the minute James turned his back.  So what if he’d kept her close all night?  They’d had a good time.

Now he had to face the gym.  After the boat trip James did not anticipate any trouble from Tavares, and Meghan was acting just fine.  Everything was going back to the way it was supposed to be.  

Meghan sang along to the radio as they drove toward Robs’ house of torture.  She’d decided just to run and lift today, which she’d been putting off since ending things with John because there was no way to do it privately.  They’d be able to see each other the whole time.  She’d just have to focus.  At least he wasn’t in plain sight when she arrived, so she hopped on an elliptical machine and turned up her iPod.

“Hi.”

His fingers squeezed her wrist, just barely, but Meghan nearly fell.  She’d just been reaching pace, AWOLNATION already pounding through her headphones.  

“Hi.  John.”  She struggled to do everything at once - stop her feet, pull out her earbuds, not faint.  Did it have to feel like that every time they touched?  He might as well have hit her with a taser.

“Sorry, I just wanted to say hello.”  John had been all confidence on the way over - he was getting good at that.  Short term.  Now that Meghan was watching him with those green eyes he suddenly felt like a kid on the first day of school again.  “You know, before I get busted for checking you out in the mirror.”

Her heart sprang a leak and she smiled, all gooey and sweet.  “John,” she said gently.

He repeated what he’d said on the boat, and would probably say her every time they met until he stopped feeling like he didn’t want to give up but couldn’t figure out how to go forward.  It was John’s little flame of hope, his tiny rebellion.  And it was pretty fun.

“What?” he asked.  “It’s still true.”

He walked away and Meghan tried - she really tried - not to watch.  She failed.  Death by mesh shorts.  Finally she turned back to her machine, cranked up the music and also the resistance.  She couldn’t let herself think about John but she could try to sweat him away.
____

Saturday night rolled around.  A week ago, Meghan had been out with John, kissing on sidewalks and holding hands in dark theaters.  Now she was across a tiny bar table from Lucy, half-listening to a story and half-hoping someone would interrupt them.  It didn’t take long.

“Ladies.  May we join you?”

He was cute - average height, normal build, brown hair and a nice smile.  Lucy perked up and slid over to make room for two more high stools at their table.  The friendly guy introduced himself as Tyler and his friend, a taller, fair-haired guy with a tattoo inside his wrist as Luke.

“You two live around here?  I’d remember if I’d seen you before.”  Tyler made a lot of eye contact as he spoke, keeping his gaze on Meghan.

“Over in Whitby,” Lucy explained.  She mentioned a few landmarks and the guys knew them.  They were from Oshawa, right down the road.  Everything always was in Southern Ontario.  They quickly swapped schools and dropped a few ‘do you knows’ without much luck.  Tyler was in school to be a dentist, Luke worked for the city engineer’s office.  The pleasantries were done as a fresh round of drinks arrived.  Lucy gave Meghan a pointed look.

“Meghan was just living in London, working for a UK finance firm.”

“And now you’re back here?” Tyler asked, again with the eye contact.  “We must seem so boring and hillbilly now.”

“No, no,” Meghan made herself smile.  “You all seem just fine.”

You need three weeks with Robs, some scorpion lifts and twenty pounds of pure muscle, she thought.  And maybe a jersey with your name on the back.

“Sorry?” she realized Tyler was still talking.

“I asked if you got to travel at all while you were over there.”

Under the table, Lucy kicked her in the shin.  Luckily her tiny sandal didn’t do much more than remind.  “I did, a little.”  Meghan told the guys about a few weekend trips to Paris and Berlin, a week in the Greek Islands.  She’d also explored quite a bit of the UK, trying to soak up the local culture as much as she could.

“They have more vacation time than we do, but I wanted a lot more.”

“Like summer,” Luke said nostalgically.  He glanced around at what were surely college students home on break.  “Remember summer vacation?”

“Meghan’s having one now,” Lucy told the boys.  Meghan explained her strategy for a last summer of fun.

“And you’re spending it here, in this bar?” Tyler said with a shake of his head.  “We might have to do something about that.  Get you out a little more.”

He meant ‘out with me,’ of course.  Meghan smiled politely and turned her conversation to Luke.  Lucy started talking to Tyler.  After a few minutes, Tyler cut back to the group.  The guys were nice - they had funny stories, normal jobs, families nearby.  If Meghan stayed in the area, this is what she’d have to look forward to.  While everyone else was….

Another kick to the shin.

“Don’t mind her,” Lucy was saying, signalling for another round of beers.  “She’s thinking about her fantasy hockey team.” Meghan’s face hardened.

“Ah, hockey fan?” Luke asked.  “I suppose there wasn’t much of that in England.”

“Good season to miss then, with the lockout killing half.”

The guys talked about their favorite team - the Leafs, of course - and their stunning almost-comeback against the Bruins.  Meghan said she wished the Leafs had won, but left out the part where it was because the Penguins might have beaten them instead of falling to Boston.  Everyone in Canada had some hockey in common so it was easy for the conversation to get carried away.  In the pocket of her capris, Meghan’s phone buzzed.

John: I’m at an improv show with Sam.  It’s so bad, now I know how you felt.

Her heart skipped a predictable, annoying beat.  She wasn’t supposed to get worked up about a text from a friend.  And did John have to mention a date or kissing or how good she looked every time they talked?  It just made her think about dates and kissing and how good he looked….

“Ugh,” she said, like the text was a bother.

Meghan: Just don’t get called on stage.

John: I’d have to say I’m on a date with Sam. How embarrassing.

Meghan: I don’t know.  Sam’s cute.

It took a moment for John to reply. Meghan pictured him leaning forward, hiding the light from his screen, showing Sam as quietly as possible.

John: He wants you to know he’s single.

Meghan:  He ended your date that quickly?  Rude.  Now put your phone away before you get called on stage!

Meghan killed the screen and looked up, locking eyes with Lucy.  She rearranged her features to wipe the smile off her face.  

Lucy smirked.  “What do you guys think, for Meghan’s team,” she paused, “of James Neal versus John Tavares?”

Meghan slammed her pint glass down.

“Tavares all the way!” Luke said.

“Oh my God, you gotta go Tavares.  I mean, Neal’s good, breakout year last year and all, but Tavares is a captain.  A first overall.  He’s gonna carry the weight of that team.  Neal can score when he wants, but they have so many weapons, the Pens.  Tavares is an every single night kinda guy, he’ll never let you down.”  Tyler looked like he could go on for hours.

“Okay, okay,” Meghan held up a hand, laughing weakly.  Lucy was just barely holding it together.  “I hear you.”

At the end of the night, Tyler asked Meghan for her phone number.  She didn’t even feel bad telling him no thanks, that she was set with ways to spend her last summer of freedom.  Luke kissed her cheek, kissed Lucy’s lips and the girls were alone again at last.

“I can’t believe you,” Meghan said sarcastically.

“I can’t believe he’s texting you on a Friday night.  He’s sharper than I thought.”

“What?”  

Lucy shrugged.  “If you had plans, say a date, presumably you wouldn’t be replying.  But you did, and right away.  At length.  Guess you weren’t with James….”

She stopped in her tracks.  “How do you know it was John?”

“You don’t smile like that for anyone else.”
____

On Sunday morning, the guys reported to the gym for the only Sunday workout of the year.  Of course Roberts gave them their hardest workout yet.  John was halfway through his rope lifts, arms trembling, with nothing but the prospect of another sled push at the end.  Which wasn’t even the end.  If they survived, they’d have an unheard of two straight days off - Monday was Canada Day, Tuesday was National Recover from Canada Day.  Steven was hosting what promised to be a huge bash, provided they could make it that far.

Stamkos dropped the ropes next to him and leaned onto his knees, panting. “Hope Kaylynn can lift a keg or we’re gonna have a tough time setting up the party.”

“Oooooh, Kaylynn,” John teased, like they were in grade school.  It was nice to see Steven so unabashedly over the moon about a girl.

Steven laughed once. “You bringing a date?”

John rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, Gagner.”

“Well,” Stammer hauled himself upright, “at least he can carry a keg.”
____

2 comments:

  1. still rooting for John & Meg! loving this story!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ugh! The suspense is killing me!! John and Meg just need to get together already!!

    ReplyDelete