Chapter Text
Marie was digging through her trunk when she heard the car pull up behind her and come to a stop. She closed her eyes in frustration before opening them up and turning around to wave the motorist past her. Couldn’t people see she had a flat tire?
She flipped her hair back. The late October day was unseasonably warm, and her strands of her blonde hair were sticking to the back of her neck. She probably should have taken off her black suit jacket when her she got out to assess the flat tire on her rental, but she had spilled coffee all over her white blouse this morning and the jacket was the only thing making her look like a grown up.
Throwing her hand out again, she waved the car around. When it didn’t move, she lifted the hand to shade her eyes from the sun so she could see the driver. He was pushing himself out of an old SUV. Marie sighed.
“Sorry I’m blocking the lane. The rental agency will kill me if I drive it with a flat tire,” she said, turning away to look at the front, driver-side tire. Why was it so warm and sunny? Why did she feel like a sweaty whale? And why did she have a flat tire on such a busy street? This was a horrible day. Strike that, this was a horrible trip. It’d been nothing but wall to wall bullshit since she’d arrived in D.C. four days ago.
“Need some help?”
She turned to look at him and saw a man in athletic shorts and a T-shirt. He was tall and tan with close-cropped, light brown hair. And his face was perfectly chiseled, like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Marie gritted her teeth and pulled her hair back. She felt like shit, probably looked like shit, and now Mr. Perfect, who looked disgustingly comfortable in his skin, was standing there watching her sweat like a pig.
“No, no, I’m fine. Just waiting on the rental agency to send out their roadside assistance.”
“I’ll wait with you then,” he said, walking around her to look at the tire.
Marie felt defeated. Fuck him. Fuck him for being perfect and offering to help her when she just wanted to sit in the car and sweat and hope that she could disappear. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t waste your time. I’m sure they’ll be here in five minutes.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Then it won’t waste much of my time. You’re not from around here?”
She adjusted her jacket, wishing she could take it off without revealing the coffee stain. “No. How did you know?”
“You said this is a rental. Here on business?”
Marie leaned against the door of the car. These heels were too high, and the toes of her shoes were too pointy. Why did she do this to herself? She should have worn those ugly grandma shoes. “Yeah, I’m in town for two weeks.”
“What do you do?”
The warm breeze picked up her hair and plastered it across her sweaty forehead. Marie felt like the most unattractive person on the planet. Why did the model stop her help her? Weren’t there actual damsels in distress somewhere? Damsels that wore a size two, not sixteen. He was watching her with his blue eyes and she couldn’t help but think he looked familiar. She shook off the nagging thought and said, “Human resources for a construction company. We just got awarded a big contract in the D.C. area, and I’m here processing new hires.”
“You live in Virginia?”
“Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh, actually.”
“Well, welcome to D.C. It’s not usually so warm here right before Halloween.” His hands were in his pockets, and he settled himself against the car beside her, crossing one leg casually over the other.
Marie wanted to slide away from him, but she restrained herself. He was probably feeling sorry for her and her pathetic life. God, she thought, I need to get this fucking jacket off or I’m going to burn up. “Look, you really don’t have to do this. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“My mom raised me better than that. I don’t have anything better to do than wait here until you’re on your way.” He was smiling at her again and her defenses were melting away. He really was so attractive that it made her sick. The slight accent was just icing on the sexy cake. She couldn’t quite place it. Maybe midwestern or Canadian.
“I was going to try and change it myself so I’m not late, but I don’t know the first thing about how to use a jack. They don’t come with instructions.”
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and pushed off her car, walking back to the trunk. “Is there a jack in here? I’ll change it for you.”
Marie laughed. “No, don’t bother. I called in and told them I’ll be late.”
He lifted the jack up and looked at her. “I bet I’m faster than roadside assistance. You’ll be on your way in ten minutes.”
She relented and watched him squat down to position the jack underneath the car. His legs were all muscle. Actually, he looked like he was a personal trainer. It just made her feel like she was a blob without any definition. “You’re too nice,” she said.
“Karma. You’ll pass it on.” He was already working on the lug nuts, twisting them off with the tire iron and showing very little strain. She’d probably fall on her face with the effort he was expending.
He looked so familiar. It was really beginning to bug her. She’d seen him somewhere. Finally, she caved and said, “You look familiar.”
“Yeah?” He looked up from the tire to catch her eye before resuming his work.
“Yeah. You’re not from Pittsburgh, are you?”
He dropped his head and chuckled. “No, I am definitely not.”
“Weird.” Marie frowned and ran her fingertips across her forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat forming there.
He pulled her tire off and traded it for the spare in the trunk. “You watch hockey?” he asked as he passed by her and dropped the spare on the ground. It bounced for a moment before he steadied it with his hands.
“Yeah, why?”
“Penguins?” he asked, not looking at her.
“Obviously,” she answered. “You?”
“Watch hockey?”
She nodded.
“Oh yeah. I love hockey. I play, too.”
Marie watched him fit the spare on and begin tightening the nuts to hold it in place. “Oh shit,” she said, suddenly placing his face.
He looked up at her, smiling. “What?”
“You play for the Capitals.”
His smile got bigger. “Maybe.”
“Brooks Laich, right? Goddammit.”
He laughed and finished adjusting the lug nuts. “That might be me.”
“I’m going to be sick. A Cap is changing my tire. Are you guys that hard up for fans that you’re converting people one at a time.”
Brooks stood up and dusted his hands off before bending over to pick up the tire iron and jack to return them to her trunk. “Anything for job security,” he said, closing the trunk up.
“I’m a lost cause. Penguins fan for life.”
“Damn shame,” Brooks replied, stopping just a couple feet from her. Marie had to look up because he was so much taller than her. He looked good on television, but he was even better in person.
She took and deep breath and forced a smile, trying to collect herself. “Thank you for the help. I appreciate it.”
“Even if I’m the enemy?” The corner of his mouth was lifting up and it was adorable.
“Even if you’re the enemy,” she agreed. Marie stuck her hand out, feeling awkward. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Likewise...uh...” He took her hand and raised his brows.
“Oh, Marie. My name is Marie.”
“Likewise, Marie.”
His hand was warm and dry and strong. Hers was probably sweaty and clammy. She jerked her hand back as soon as she could and gave him a nervous smile. “Thanks again.”
“Just be careful. Drive slow.”
“I will.” Marie gave him a short wave before jerking the door open and sliding inside the car. She turned the engine over and cranked the A/C up. He was still sitting behind her in his SUV. Obviously he was being the perfect gentleman and waiting for her to pull away first. Of course. Fucking Brooks Laich.
She had a bag of frozen broccoli and a box of minute rice in her basket. After a week, getting takeout got old, regardless of whether the company was picking up the tab on all her expenses during this temporary trip. Marie was beginning to miss being able to cook. The suite they had rented for two weeks had a small kitchen. All she needed for this dinner was the microwave to heat the rice and and broccoli. The chicken she was going to pick up at the deli on her way to the cash register was already cooked and ready to eat.
It had been a busy week working in the temporary office trailer on the construction site. Thankfully, the weather had cooled off and become more seasonable. Unfortunately, the blouse she had ruined with coffee a week ago was still out of commission. She should have just given it to the hotel staff to have it professionally cleaned. Instead, she had tried to do it herself and now it was crumpled up in the bathroom floor. She missed home and wanted to get the hell out of D.C.
The supermarket was quiet this late in the evening. It was nearly eight o’clock and the after work rush was long gone. Those people were home with their families, settled in front of the television to watch American Idol or The Bachelor or whatever people watched. Marie felt like a failure. She was thirty and single with no prospects on the horizon. She could stand to lose more than a few pounds and needed to stop ruining her white clothes with disgusting stains.
When she turned the corner of the aisle to find the deli, she nearly walked into someone. Pulling up short, she stuck her hand out to steady herself.
“I’m sorry,” the stranger said.
She looked up at the familiar voice. Brooks fucking Laich. Her eyes went wide and his did, too. Obviously he remembered her. Damn, she thought, how awkward.
“Hi,” Marie said out loud.
“Hi, how’s your tire?”
His question made her chuckle. “It’s tire-like. Inflated now, thankfully.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
“So, do you make a habit of helping women change tires?”
“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
Marie shifted her weight from one foot to another. “I looked you up after you changed my tire.”
“On the internet?”
“And I saw that you’re, like, the white knight of flat tires or something.”
He laughed. “You’re just my second. But maybe that can be my next career.”
She shook her head at him. “As much as it pains me to help out the Caps, I think you should stick with hockey. You’re pretty good at it.”
“You’ll take that back when we beat the Pens next time.”
“Yeah, I probably will,” she said, smiling at him. He really was a nice guy. Wholesome and handsome and completely genuine. Perfection. And it made her feel like nothing. Why was he even talking to her? “So, uh, nice to see you again. Enjoy your... shopping.” Marie winced at her choice of words. She sounded trite and stupid and awkward.
“You, too,” he replied, watching her walk past him. “Nice to see you again, Marie.”
“Bye,” she said, giving him a wave before turning around and scrunching her face up. Oh God, I hope he isn’t watching me walk away, she thought. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he was. And when she turned her head back around she almost walked into a display of crackers. Despite avoiding that crisis, she did forget the chicken in her rush to get out of the most embarrassing grocery store trip ever. That night she settled for rice and broccoli.
“Derrick, do not embarrass me. When you start screaming at them it just makes me want to sink into the floor.”
Marie’s older brother looked at her with his innocent eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sis.”
“You know what I’m talking about,” she replied, giving him a dirty look. Her brother was five years older than her and the biggest kid she knew. He was married with two little boys and a nice job, but he couldn’t seem to control himself when it came to hockey. Taking the game seriously was an understatement. They were seated in the corner on the first row. The Pens were shooting twice in this end which was why Derrick shelled out the money for the nice seats. His wife, Jenna, didn’t care about hockey. Marie was more than happy with that since it mean Derrick’s hockey buddy hadn’t changed since Jenna came into the picture. It was and always would be his little sister, Marie.
The players jumped onto the ice for warmups. She couldn’t help but look for Brooks Laich. It had been over a month since she’d returned to Pittsburgh after sorting things out in D.C. The crews had been hired and policies set in place in her absence. The D.C. trip was such an uncomfortable blur that she blocked out the whole thing about meeting a Caps player, not telling anyone about it.. Her brother would have shamed her for being nice to Brooks anyway.
He was there, gracefully looping around the ice, shooting pucks toward Holtby on each pass around. Marie found warmups to be calming and mesmerizing. They always did the same things–like a ritual to prepare for the game.
“Fucking Caps,” Derrick muttered under his breath. “I hope we destroy them. You know Talbot said that Ovechkin is a douche, right?”
“Yeah, he seems sleazy,” Marie agreed, trying to avert her eyes from Brooks Laich. Damn him and his easy-going, wholesome self. He belonged in a romance novel And he was probably a womanizer because no woman in her right mind could say no to that.
He skated back around the net and came to a stop just to the left of her seat, lowering himself to the ice and stretching out his legs. Marie tried to pretend she was invisible. The chances that he would remember her were slim, but on the off chance he did, she didn’t want any awkward, embarrassing moment in which he felt obligated to acknowledge her existence.
“What’s up with you?” Derrick asked, poking her arm.
“Nothing. Stop poking me.”
“You’re being weird. Are you working long hours again? Mom told you to stop that shit.”
“Fuck off, Derrick. I’m an adult.”
“With no social life.”
She glanced over and glowered at her brother. “I said to fuck off. My life is none of your biz.”
Just as she looked back up at the ice, she locked eyes with Brooks Laich and her stomach fell into her feet. It was obvious that he recognized her from the look of surprise on his face.
She dropped her eyes quickly, but it was too late. In her peripheral vision she could see his white and red jersey advancing toward the boards, and then there was a knock on the glass.
“What the fuck?” her brother said just before Marie looked up at Brooks.
“Hi,” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass.
Marie gave him a sheepish smile and waved her hand.
“Is Brooks Laich talking to you?” Derrick asked.
Marie held her hand up to tell her brother to be quiet because Brooks was talking again.
“You’re gonna break my heart if you root against me.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. Shaking her head she said, “Sorry, I’ve got to. You’re the enemy.”
Brooks hung his head dramatically and skated away. He went into the bench area to adjust his skates.
Derrick shook her arm. “Marie. What the hell? How do you know Brooks Laich?”
“He changed my flat tire when I was working in D.C. a month ago.”
“And you didn’t think I should know this kind of shit?”
“It was nothing. He was being nice.”
“My baby sister is canoodling with a Capital.”
Marie snorted. “Hardly. He’s just a nice guy.”
“He’s a Capital.”
“Yeah, I know. And he’s going to lose,” Marie replied.
It was a few minutes into the second period when a man leaned over the couple to the right of her and said, “Are you Marie?”
She furrowed her brows in confusion and nodded her head. The man held out a folded sheet of paper with her name written neatly on the outside. She automatically accepted it, but didn’t comprehend what had happened.
“What kind of spy shit is this?” Derrick asked, looking from the paper to her face.
“No clue.”
Crosby swept around the boards and got tangled up with Joel Ward in an attempt to free the puck and get it in front of Holtby. Marie watched until the puck was knocked off to the left and then pushed down the ice by the Caps.
“Open it.”
Marie shot Derrick a look before she unfolded the sheet of paper and stared at the stylish scrawl across the middle of the paper.
Long time, no see. Hope you enjoyed D.C. We’re here for the night and I’d appreciate advice on where I should grab some dinner. Call me? 202-410-7672 Brooks
Marie stared at the sheet and read the note several times. What was this supposed to mean? Brooks Laich was passing her notes during a game? Bizarre.
“What the fuck, Marie?” Derrick asked after he’d read the note over her shoulder like an eavesdropping big brother.
She shook her head and folded up the paper. “No idea.”
“Did you and Laich, you know... when you were in D.C.?”
She shoved her brother’s shoulder. “No! Don’t be gross, Derrick. Plus, like I’d ever tell you about my sex life.”
Brooks smashed Neal against the boards, drawing the puck away from him and skating it up the middle of the ice before he passed it off to Ribeiro. She had a difficult time reconciling the friendly, easy-going guy who changed her tire with the powerful, graceful hockey player in the ice. This shit did not happen in real life. Not to her.
"You gonna call him? " Derrick interrupted her thoughts.
"No."
"Why not? "
She snorted and shoved the paper into her purse. "He's a Capital. And it's nothing. He just wants a restaurant recommendation, and I suck at that.
"Marie, he gave you his number."
"So? "
"So call him. Trust me; I'm a guy."
"Derrick, he's not interested in me. Don't be stupid."
“Why?” he demanded.
"He's perfect, and I'm..."
Derrick frowned. "You're what?"
"Not. I'm not. Just drop it. He's a nice guy, and he helped me out once. End of discussion. "
"No one is perfect. And if he's a nice guy then why aren't you calling him?"
Marie shook her head and turned back to to the game just in time to see Mike Green slap the puck from the blue line. It whizzed past Fleury and smacked into the back of the net. The entire arena groaned, including Derrick. Marie was just staring at the numbers on Brooks Laich's back as he crashed into Green for a celebratory hug.
The bathroom was packed because all the women knew it would take them no less than thirty minutes to get out of the parking lot across the street from Consol Energy Center. When she emerged, Derrick was standing a few yards away, hunched over his cell phone. He disconnected when she approached.
"You in trouble with the missus big brother?"
Derrick grinned. "I might be. I told her I'm taking you for drinks before I come home."
"No," Marie said.
"Yes. Stop being a stick in the mud. You need to get out more."
She gritted her teeth, knowing that she was at Derrick's mercy since he had driven them to the game. "I need a brother who minds his own business."
Regardless of her complaints, she went along with him and followed him into the bar area of one of their favorite restaurants. She settled into a booth along the far wall while he went to the bathroom. The drink menu was extensive, but she wasn't in the mood for anything. Really, she just wanted to go home and stare at Brooks Laich's phone number while she dreamt up a fantasy that involved her being a few pounds lighter, hair a little longer, and confidence a little higher. That hypothetical girl would have called his number.
Marie dug into her purse to find the sheet with his handwriting on it. Receipts, an old checkbook, tampons, her wallet, keys, lotion. Where the hell was the sheet? After another minute of digging she gave up. Obviously, it had fallen out in the arena. Oh well. At least the choice was taken from her. She couldn't call him even if she had the balls to.
"Marie? Hey!"
She jerked her gaze up to see Brooks Laich and Mike Green striding across the room, making their way over to her table. Her brain shut down.
"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.
"Your brother call me and said you'd be here. And he said the fries are amazing. I haven't had fries in forever." Brooks slid into the booth beside her, forcing Marie to move over and press herself against the wall, lest she have her leg pressed against his.
"Oh." Words were failing her. She couldn't think of anything to say. This was surreal.
Brooks turned his head to look at her. "You didn't know I was coming, did you? "
"Not really," she replied, looking at Mike Green who was now seated across the table. He was smiling and looking at the drink menu.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you... did you want us to leave you alone?"
"No," both Marie and Derrick said at the same time. He had just returned from the bathrooms.
"This kills me because I'm a diehard Pens fan, but I'm Derrick." Her brother stuck his hand out to Brooks and then Mike. They both said their nice-to-meet-yous to Derrick. "Marie was too shy to call," he said by way of explanation.
She scowled at her brother as she wished the floor would open up and swallow her. This could not get any worse.
"I'm Mike," Mike said, extending his hand across the table to Marie.
She took his offered hand and forced a smile. "I know. I'm Marie Clarkson. Nice to meet you."
"You root against my team. You don't call me. I'm beginning to think you don't like me at all." Brooks was giving her a sly look with a twinkle in his eye. He could probably read her like a book and eat her alive. She was the rabbit and he was the wolf who played women. She'd watched the video with the team in which almost everyone agreed that Brooks was the biggest ladies man. Obviously, he was just toying with her. What was this? Some sort of bet on how big of a fool he could get her to make of herself?
Marie smiled sweetly at him. "I figured you weren't hard up for help finding a restaurant. I think there were a group of fans waiting outside the arena. There actually are Caps fans in Pittsburgh, despite our attempts to convert them."
Brooks laughed and grabbed the menu out of Marie's hand. "What are you drinking? It's on me."
"Jack and Coke. You change my tire. You buy me drinks. A girl will start thinking you've got ulterior motives."
Derrick made a choking noise deep in this throat. Marie looked over to see wide eyes and his jaw nearly on the table. Mike was grinning and still looking resolutely at the menu. Brooks was smiling, too.
"Will you share an order of fries with me?"
She nodded and tried to will away the flush that had crept up into her cheeks at her own brazenness.
The waiter came over and took their orders. Mike fell into a conversation with Derrick. They were talking about traveling and which hockey towns were favorites of Mike's.
Brooks looked over at her. His hands were resting on the table and all she could see were his muscular forearms and the way the crisp white dress shirt with sleeves halfway rolled up set off his perfect tan. He looked relaxed and satisfied even if they had lost to the Pens not long ago.
"Finish up your work in D.C.?" he asked.
Marie nodded. "Just for the record, this is weird. Do you do this often?"
"Do what?"
"Give out your number to fans of rival teams so they can show you around town."
He laughed under his breath. "This is pretty weird, yeah?"
"Beyond bizarre," she agreed.
"It’s my first time, to tell you the truth. You seemed cool when I saw you those two times in D.C. I guess I was surprised to see you tonight and I felt like I should, you know, say hi or something."
"Totally weird," Marie responded with a grin.
He bumped his shoulder playfully into hers. “You found me out. I’m a weirdo.”
“Oddly enough, that’s really comforting to know. Now I don’t feel so alone.”
The waiter showed up with their drinks and food. Derrick had ordered a burger. Mike got a huge plate of pasta with grilled chicken. Marie was sharing a massive order of seasoned fried with Brooks. He adjusted the plate between them on the table and waited for her to take the first bite. She noticed, even though he was smooth about it. Marie mentally shook her head. Fucking gentleman. It was almost unbearable. Since when did guys do shit like that nowadays? Too bad he was so far out of her league that just eating dinner at the same table as him was hilarious.
“Sorry we beat you tonight. Guess you can’t win ‘em all,” Marie said, popping a fry in her mouth and washing it down with a sip of her Jack and Coke.
Brooks shook his head at her and picked up a fry. “Don’t be cocky, now. You’ll be eating crow the next time we play the Pens.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.
“So when are you going to start supporting the better team?”
“Already do,” she replied cheekily as she grabbed a couple more fries off the plate.
“You better take that Crosby jersey off then,” he said, plucking at the sleeve of her prized jersey.
She took a long draw off her drink before saying, “Don’t be a hater, Laich.”
Marie grinned to herself as he bent over away from her and laughed. She didn’t stand a chance with Brooks Laich so she really had nothing to lose by verbally sparring with him. She knew for a fact that he didn’t want anything beyond dinner and some conversation. He would sweep out of town tomorrow, and that would be that. The end of the odd friendship between her and Mr. Perfect.
And that’s really how the night went. They spent over two hours at the bar, picking at the plate of fries and having a few drinks. Mike bonded with her brother over their love of drums. Derrick desperately wanted to play in a local band, but when you’ve got two boys who play every sport known to man, you don’t have much time for your own hobbies.
Brooks was fun and easy-going and attentive. And he gave her a half hug with his strong arm as they wrapped up the evening. His arm around her made her feel nervous and uncomfortable in a good way. A way she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Wow, I need to go on more dates if this gets my motor running, she thought. Brooks and Mike climbed into a cab and headed back to the hotel while Marie crawled up into her brother’s oversized pickup truck.
“That was strange,” Derrick said as he started the truck.
“I know,” she agreed.
“So you and Laich, huh?”
“Fuck off, Derrick. I’m not his type.”
“Says who?” he asked as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and shoved it inside her purse. She knew it was Brooks Laich’s note and phone number. Her brother was a meddling asshole.
“Says the world. Drive me home. I have to work tomorrow and I’m already dreading it.”
Silence blanketed the truck as he pulled out into traffic and jumped on the parkway. “They seemed pretty cool for... Crapitals.”
“Yeah. Strange.”
Marie didn’t throw the paper away. It was shoved in a desk drawer filled with junk. Old receipts and coupons and aspirin that had long since expired. Underneath it all was a personal note from Brooks Laich with his cell phone number. Marie convinced herself he had likely changed the number after giving it out to the likes of her. But she knew that Brooks wouldn’t have wasted that much thought on little old Marie Clarkson.
It’s been almost two months. She’d had a disastrous blind date three weeks ago for New Years Eve. A woman she worked with had set her up with a friend’s son. They suffered through a painful dinner before he excused himself, leaving her to find her way home alone just before the clock struck midnight. Figures, she thought. Blind dates were always a bad idea. She was one of those girls who won guys over with her witty conversation, not her good looks and killer body. Marie knew she was cute enough with layered blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and a smooth, pale complexion that was the envy of her friends. But she’d always been uncomfortable in her own skin, unhappy with her too-full stomach and too-wide hips and too-round butt. She didn’t think she’d be making the cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition in the next lifetime.
She sucked on a blueberry popsicle as the Penguins took to the ice at the Verizon Center. The crowd was dressed mostly in bright red jerseys to support the Capitals, and Marie was oddly excited to see Brooks play. Not that she wanted the Capitals to win, but she was allowed to watch a nice guy play a great game of hockey even if he was on the other team. Right?
The game was fast-paced and physical, which was par for the course when the Pens played the Caps. Brooks was in fine form, scoring a goal late in the second period to bring the Caps ahead by one. She cursed him while secretly congratulating him on the good play. The third period was eventless and the Penguins lost by a goal. She flipped the television off and brushed her teeth. On her way to the bedroom, she walked by the desk. The desk with the drawer that held the paper. The paper that had his phone number.
Marie shook her head and kept walking. And then she turned around and dug out the note to take it to bed with her. Once she was snuggled beneath the warm sheet and duvet, she typed out a text to him.
Marie: Ok fine. I’m eating crow. Stop playing so well
She read the message again and again. If he responded back to ask her who sent the message, then she’d just leave it at that. That would just mean he didn’t remember their conversation a couple months ago, and she didn’t care to debase herself to Mr. Perfect any more than she could help it.
Holding her breath, she hit the send button and sat her phone on the nightstand. She was determined not to stay up and wait for his response. Hell, the response might never come. Maybe he did change his number. She closed her eyes and let herself begin to drift off to sleep. Just as the exhaustion was pulling her under, her phone chirped and jerked her back into the waking world.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the green light on her phone as it blinked at her. It was probably her brother, complaining about the Penguins’ loss. Or her friend Sara. Yeah, she thought, it was probably Sara complaining about her husband. He worked nights and it gave Sara too much time to think up reasons why she was upset with him. Really, Marie thought her friend’s husband was a nice guy who had no idea what his wife was talking about.
Hesitantly, Marie picked up her phone and pulled up her text messages.
Brooks: Knew you’d come around
Her heart was in her throat as she read the text. It was cryptic and didn’t really tell her that he remembered who she was. She couldn’t help responding.
Marie: I bet you don’t even know who this is
Less than two minutes later and her phone chirped. She pulled up the message.
Brooks: Marie, how could I forget the girl who hoped I would lose even after I was nice enough to change her flat tire?
The sentence knocked the wind out of her. He did remember. He remembered everything, even her name. Brooks Laich thought she was important enough to occupy a space in his brain. The world was upside down. Obviously.
Before she could respond to his message, he had sent another.
Brooks: Thought you’d thrown away my number since I’m the enemy
Marie: I was saving it for a rainy day
She smiled at herself for the response, hoping that her playfulness would keep his attention, at least for a few more minutes. And she was right; it did.
Brooks: So should I send you a jersey to wear to the next game. That Crosby one was looking pretty ratty
Marie: I’ve been thinking about getting a Letang jersey
Brooks: Breaking my heart here. I have a perfectly good red number 21 jersey in my closet
She laughed and shoved her face in the pillow, and then she took a deep breath to compose herself. She was not nineteen and crushing on a boy. She was thirty and flirting with disaster. Brooks Laich was something she would never have; she had no doubt about that. It was foolish to keep this up.
Marie: Maybe you’ll get traded to the Pens and then I can get a black number 21
Brooks: Blasphemy. Don’t make me lose my appetite
Marie: Agree to disagree. Have a good night. And congrats on the great game
She sighed and waited for his response. It came only a few seconds later.
Brooks: Goodnight. Don’t be a stranger
Marie smiled and quickly shoved her phone back onto the nightstand before she texted another response. She just needed to stop.
Two days later she was pushing a cart up and down aisles at the grocery store, convinced nothing could be more depressing than this on a Thursday evening. She might as well throw in a few cans of cat food for the inevitable cat she’d be getting within the next five years. Her phone started playing Smack That by Akon. At the time she thought it had been funny and ironic to program the song as her ringtone, but in the quiet aisles of the grocery store, it was embarrassing. She fumbled for the phone and answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“You don’t call, you don’t write. I’m beginning to think you really don’t like me.”
The voice was male and familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. What man was calling her at seven o’clock on a Thursday night?
“You must have the wrong number,” she said.
“Marie, the Penguins fan?”
Brooks Laich. Her brain was screaming his name and the words “holy shit” nearly spewed out of her mouth. The silence must have stretched out far too long because Brooks cleared his throat and said, “Marie?”
“Boy, you really are on a mission to convert fans, aren’t you?” she asked.
His laughter rumbled through the phone. “I’m a team player. How have you been?”
“Are you playing a joke on me?”
“No. Why?”
Marie glanced nervously at the cereal boxes lining the shelves. “You’re being weird. Calling me and stuff. I’m nobody.”
He was silent for a moment before finally speaking up and saying, “You’re somebody, don’t be silly. Should I delete your number?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I just... Well, you’re Brooks Laich, and I’m....”
“Marie. Clarkson, right?”
“Right. Stop being perfect.”
He laughed again. “I’m not perfect.”
“Bullshit. You are. Aren’t you busy playing hockey?”
“We’re in Buffalo for the night. We play tomorrow.”
She plucked a box of Cheerios from the shelf and dropped it her cart. “And you got bored so you started going through your address book?”
“Pretty much. Except I skipped straight to the M’s first so I could rub in the last win to my favorite Penguins fan.”
Her heart was thumping in her chest. His favorite Penguins fan, indeed. The man was smooth as shit. “I bet you don’t know any other Penguins fans.”
“Busted,” he replied. They both laughed before he continued by asking, “So, what are you up to?”
“Shopping for groceries.”
“Definitely buy cereal.”
She furrowed her brows and said, “You partial to cereal?”
“Favorite food.”
“I’m in the cereal aisle. Tell me what’s good.”
He hummed before saying, “Cheerios.”
“Covered. I already have a box in my cart.”
“The honey nut kind?”
“Regular.”
“Get the honey nut kind. Way better.”
She stared at the box in her cart and then put it back on the shelf to replace it with the honey nut box. A smile was on her face, but she didn’t even notice it. “Okay, Mr. Bossy. What else?”
“Special K–the kind with fruit and yogurt.”
She spied it on the second shelf and grabbed a box. “No Fruit Loops?” she asked as she dropped it into the cart on top of the Cheerios.
“Only on special occasions,” he replied.
“You’re super weird, Brooks Laich.”
“It’s endearing, right?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Yeah, endearing.”
“I’ll leave you to the cereal. For real, though. Don’t be a stranger. Life on a road can get pretty boring.”
She wished him a good night and hung up, trying to comprehend his strange parting remark. Did Brooks Laich want her to be his friend?
The following evening she was sitting in front of her television, watching the NHL Network. The Washington and Buffalo game was airing, and Marie had nothing better to do than watch Brooks fly across the ice. She could root for him without guilt because she didn’t care one way or another about Buffalo. The Caps won, and Brooks was awarded two assists during the course of the game.
At ten thirty, she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed. Before she went to sleep, she sent him a text congratulating him on the win. He didn’t respond back right away, and Marie ended up dozing off. At eleven-thirty her phone chirped and vibrated across the nightstand, waking her. She rubbed her eyes and read his response.
Brooks: Give in. You know you love us
She shook her head at him and smiled. What a little shit he was.
Marie: You’re okay. It’s a shame you’ll lose in two weeks
Brooks: It’s a shame you don’t know what you’re talking about. You coming to see us play the Pens then?
Marie: I might try to get tickets
Which was a total lie. She’s beg, borrow, and steal to get tickets to see him again. It was all in an effort to extend the fantasy. Plus, how many people in the arena could say they had the phone number of a player? She could. And half the women in the place would probably be jealous if they knew.
Brooks: We’ll be there the night before. Maybe you can show us around?
She sat the phone down and stared at his last message. Life was strange. She almost said no, but he was such a nice guy that she couldn’t bear to say anything but yes.
Marie: Okay.
Marie was sitting at the bar in TGI Fridays. It was almost eight-thirty, and she felt like she’d done her socializing for the week. Sara had guilted her into pursuing a couple dates on an internet dating site. The only one that panned out had been a guy name Rob. Rob was a paralegal at a law firm in the North Hills. He was also the biggest dick Marie had met all month.
He showed up fifteen minutes late, gave her a once-over, and spent the next thirty minutes taking down to her. Finally, Marie called him on his bullshit, and he blew out of the restaurant, leaving her with the tab. Fucking men.
She finished her Jack and Coke, then ordered a hamburger. She needed something in her stomach if she planned on driving home after the booze. Her phone rang. No doubt it was Sara asking how the date was going. They had an agreement that Sara would call mid-way through the date in case Marie needed a reason to leave.
She accepted the call and said, “It’s fine. He dumped me after thirty minutes. I’m just going to get something to eat and go home.”
Silence stretched out across the line. When Sara didn’t say anything, Marie said, “Sara?”
“I’m not Sara.”
Brooks. She could identify that accent anywhere now. After he’d called her in the grocery store, she went through every interview of his on YouTube. Her stomach dropped. “Ignore everything I said,” Marie muttered.
“Who dumped you?”
“You’re not ignoring what I said.”
“Shouldn’t have said it then. Don’t you ever look at your caller ID?” He sounded amused.
“Don’t you ever mind your own business, twenty-one?”
He chuckled. “Never. Who dumped you?”
Marie felt her cheeks flush, and she put her forehead on the bar. “Rob something or other. I don’t remember his last name. He was my Match.com date.”
“He was an asshole?”
“Oh God, of epic proportions. Story of my life.”
“That’s a shame.”
Marie shrugged. “I’m over it. Why aren’t you scoring goals?”
“I’m saving them all for Friday when we play...”
“The Pens,” she said, interrupting him. “Cocky bastard. Don’t be trying to beat my boys.”
“You’re feisty tonight.”
She finished her drink just as the bartender slid her burger in front of her. She motioned for a glass of water. “A long day of work, a dick for a date, getting stiffed with the tab, and two strong drinks will do that to a girl.”
“I’d never stiff you with the tab.”
“That’s because you’re Mr. Perfect.”
He laughed. “I can’t live up to Mr. Perfect.”
Marie let out an unladylike snort. “Don’t worry. You already do without trying.”
“I’m blushing. Are you complimenting a Capital?”
“We call them Crapitals around here.”
“So classy,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.
“It’s how I roll. Happy hour and bad dates to wrap up a workday filled with tax documents. Aren’t you glad you’re a superstar athlete?”
“I thought I was a Crapital.”
“Well, you’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”
He chuckled. “I’m glad I called you tonight. You’re fun.”
“I’m slightly drunk. I had one too many when realized the mistake I made going out with Rob the jerk.”
“I hope you have a ride home,” he said, his voice serious.
Of course, Marie thought. Of course he would be concerned. Before she could censor herself she said it out loud. “Of course you would say that like the perfect concerned gentleman. You make me sick.”
He was silent for a long moment. “Sorry?”
“Ehh, it’s not your fault you’re perfect. I’ll blame your mom for doing such a good job.”
“Marie, do you have a ride home?”
“No. But I have a burger and and stool to sit on. I’ll be fine after I eat.”
“Are you going to make me call your brother?”
“You don’t have his number,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“I do. He called me that night to tell me where to meet you. It’s probably still in my history.”
“Don’t call my brother. I’m fine.”
“Are you going to promise me you’ll be careful?”
She sighed and pushed her hair back out of her face. “Yes, dad.”
“Not your dad, but I’ll take that as a promise. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt and miss my amazing skills on Friday.”
Marie snorted.
“And you promised me dinner on Thursday,” he added.
“I did not.”
“You did. I’m dragging Mike along with us. Pick someplace good.”
“I feel like a traitor. I don’t ever take any of the Pens out for dinner.”
“Well then, lucky me.”
“You’re like a spy. Infiltrating enemy territory.”
He laughed. “Are you sure you aren’t more than a little drunk.”
“I can’t hold my liquor like I used to. I should hang up before I embarrass myself further.”
“Call me when you get home so I know you’re okay,” Brooks said.
Marie opened her mouth and then shut it. “Why do you care?”
“Because I do. Promise me.”
“Promise,” she agreed before she disconnected and picked up her hamburger. Her brain was fuzzy with alcohol, and her heart was pitter-pattering over Brooks Laich sounding like he gave a shit about her and her life.
The greasy hamburger and two glasses of water worked wonders and sobered her up quickly. By the time she drove home and brushed her teeth it was a little after ten o’clock. Work was going to be not very fun. She slipped on an oversized T-shirt and called Brooks before she could talk herself out of it. He answered after the second ring.
“Find your way home safely, Penguin?”
“I did. I’m a responsible adult, despite what you may think.”
“You can’t change a flat tire.”
“Girls aren’t supposed to know how to do that,” she shot back.
He chuckled. “Noted. I’m glad you got home safely.”
“You just want the inside scoop on the best places to eat in Pittsburgh.”
“Guilty. I’ll text you when we get in on Thursday. Maybe we can meet you after work.”
“Deal.”
They both paused, letting the moment play out. Marie didn’t know what to say other than goodnight. She wasn’t ready to hang up just yet. After a long string of shitty dates and even worse boyfriends, she was enjoying her conversations with Brooks. Even if they were going to amount to nothing.
“Sleep tight, Penguin. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he said softly.
She smiled at the dreamy quality of his voice. “You too, Brooksie.”
“Using my nickname now, are you?” he asked with a gentle laugh.
“Am I allowed?”
“Of course you are. Now go to sleep. I bet you have to work tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
“Which is why I’m already in bed.”
She swallowed hard. Brooks. Laich. In. Bed. Oh, yes please. “Goodnight,” she choked out before disconnecting. Why did she feel light-headed and drunk again? Did the idea of the dreamboat in bed do that to a girl?