Jenna: Call me!

“What’s up?” I ask.

“I’m awake now.”

“And?”

“So? Did you do it?”

“Yes. I already told you that.”

“And?”

Now she’s interested. “It was fabulous. He was fabulous. What more can I say?”

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Cate! I want details!”

“I’m not giving you any.”

“Oh my god! You are really in deep!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m puzzled by her comment.

“It means, my dear girl, that if you didn’t care about him, you’d be spilling all kinds of information. But as it is, you’re keeping everything to yourself.”

I digest what she says and I’m flabbergasted to find she’s right. Jenna and I ordinarily share everything from how a guy kisses to what his ass looks like in jeans. But with Drew, I am as tight lipped as I’ve ever been. Holy shit!

“I can tell by your silence that I’m right, huh?”

“I, uh, I’m not sayin’ yes or no.”

I hear her peals of laughter over the phone. She knows me like no other.

“Cate, it’s okay. Drew is the best. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. And honestly, he’s almost like my brother so I’m pretty sure I don’t want the finer details.”

“That’s good news because you won’t be getting them.”

She laughs some more. “Go have fun and be sure to take serious notes on hockey. If you continue to spend time with him, you will be watching it a lot.”

Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “Aye, captain. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I check the time on my phone I see it’s eleven thirty. I decide to fix my hair and makeup so when Drew gets here I’ll be ready to leave. Then I look at my pitiful paper and sigh. I’m not even a quarter finished and I’d planned to knock this one out this morning. I hop back on it and it seems like minutes later I hear the key in the lock, and there he is, a vision in green scrubs.

“Hey, sexy writer,” he says as he walks in the door.

“Hey, sexy doctor.”

He sets my computer aside, pulls me to my feet, and kisses me. “I’ve thought of nothing else all morning. You are a huge distraction, my lovely Cate. Which, by the way is what I shall call you. That or Catelyn. Catie won’t do.”

“Thank god. I was going to tell you no on that. My grandmother calls me her little Catie. Every time I hear that I think of her.”

“Yeah, not good. I love Catelyn. But Cate, it’s perfect, too.”

“Your choice.”

He kisses me again. “I kept thinking all morning how great it would’ve been to be lazy in bed with you. Are you sore?”

I swear to god, if my eyeballs weren’t attached so well, they’d be rolling down his living room carpet. “Um, ah, no,” I squeak.

“Sorry. Did I shock you?”

“A little.” Hell yeah!

“Yeah, I guess I get used to asking patients personal questions and I should have a better filter. Sorry.”

Maybe I look like a bug about to hit a windshield or something because he starts to laugh. Then he folds me in his arms. “It’s okay, Cate. Don’t be embarrassed. I was only asking for selfish reasons.” Then he leans back and has this super cute expression on his face.

I can only nod.

“So, lunch then?”

I nod again. It appears I’ve lost the ability to speak.

“Good. Let me get out of these first,” he indicates his scrubs with his finger, “and I’ll be ready in a second.” He ambles into the bedroom. When he returns, I’m still standing in the middle of the living room, like a moron.

He does a double take and asks if I’m okay.

“Uh huh.” I take him in. Jeans, long-sleeved shirt. Nice. Very nice. Damn, he looks good in jeans.

He grabs my hand and off we go. “Thai okay?”

“Love it.”

Then he tells me about his shift. All routine, according to him. I glaze over because I’m still trapped in how he looks in jeans. And I want him. After we order, he starts talking hockey. He explains the rules of the games and how it’s a lot like soccer. I’m familiar with soccer because I played it when I was growing up and in high school. He tells me about the players’ positions, and the major differences.

“It’s so fast and the puck is so small it’s hard for me to follow sometimes,” I say.

“You get used to it when you watch it enough.”

“I don’t understand that icing stuff.”

“It’s only a game delay. It slows down the play.”

“I think when I watch you today, I’ll be confused. It might help if we watch some games together.”

Drew barks out a laugh. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to do that.”

“Isn’t all that equipment heavy and cumbersome?”

“Not heavy, but cumbersome. You get used to it, though.”

“What position do you play?”

“I’m a right wing. It’s like a right forward in soccer.”

“Gotcha. You’re fast then?”

“Fairly. Keep in mind this is amateur. I’m not that good.”

“Listen, if you can stand up on skates, I’m going to think you’re awesome.”

“Just wait. I always have bruises somewhere. You’ll see me bust it like crazy.”

“Drew, just don’t get your teeth knocked out.”

Later that day, as we’re on the way to the hockey rink, I’m a bit nervous. He told me to bring a jacket because it gets chilly inside. When we walk in, his arm is thrown casually around my shoulders. We run into another couple. It’s a teammate and his wife.

“Sam. Caroline. Hey, this is Cate. She’s up for the weekend,” he says as he introduces me.

We all greet each other and the guys head off to the locker room.

Caroline looks at me. “Want to find a seat?”

“Sure.” So we wander up to the stands and get a seat right behind the thick Plexiglas partition right next to the box where the players sit.

“It’s nice to see Drew with someone. The hockey ho that’s been hanging around here now will maybe get the message.”

“Oh? Hockey ho?” I laugh.

“Just wait. She’ll be here wearing his number. You’ll see.”

“That’s just icky.”

“It is. She wraps herself around him, too. He does everything to get her off him, but she will not leave him alone. Now she’s going to have to. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she finds out he’s here with you.”

“Oh, maybe that’s bad, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Caroline. She sounds batshit nutty. What if she tries to stab me or something?”

“I don’t think she’s that psycho.”

“I hope not.” I’ll just stay close to Drew after the game and hope for the best.

A few minutes pass and Caroline elbows me. “There she is.” I look toward the door and a bleached blonde walks in. Her boobs are the size of summer cantaloupes and her lips look like they got stuck in my mom’s Dyson vacuum cleaner. What the hell? Does she have a frequent buyer’s card at the local plastic surgeon’s office?

Caroline starts laughing. “Exactly!”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Oops. I need to be better at filtering my thoughts.”

“No, you’re right. She’s a freak show. What’s wrong with people?”

“I’ve got nothing for you on that.”

She shuffles up the stands, and I mean shuffles. When I see what’s on her feet, I get why. She’s wearing five-inch spiky heels. Holy shit. This is a hockey game, for Pete’s sake. Her jeans are so tight, I’m afraid they’re going to split down the middle. And when she wobbles up the steps, she drops something, bends down to pick it up and the crack of her ass shows. Oh, for the love of everything. Cover up the crack! Then I start to think of that … that thing chasing after Drew and I get tickled. And it hits me so hard I start laughing. I laugh until I cry. Then Caroline starts laughing and we know we’re both making spectacles out of ourselves, but we can’t seem to stop. It’s like when you’re in church and you know you’re not supposed to laugh, but the harder you try not to, the more you do. The next thing I know, I’m snorting and the FreakShowHockeyHo is watching us. OhMyGod MakeUsStop!