So guess who can't keep his mouth shut? Came the text a few hours later. It was from Jordan.
Flower, I replied instantly. I sighed. I should have known this was coming. Was he mad that I didn't invite him? Well, Cal was the only one actually invited. I considered mentioning that, but then realized that maybe I should wait. I glanced up at the television song. I was watching one of my favorite movies, Dirty Harry.
Yep. So who did you actually invite over?
Cal. I wouldn't be able to control myself with you around.I added a wink face to it. Immediately, my phone rang and I knew it was Jordan.
"Yeah?" I grinned. I think the last part of my text set him off.
"You couldn't control yourself?"
"Not with you in my house. Sorry." I grinned, and I think he could tell. I could practically hear his eyes close and him hang his head.
"When?" He asked. "When can we actually be together? When can we stop being afraid that they're going to judge us and realize that their judgement doesn't matter."
"Well, first we're going to have what normal people call a real kiss." I made my voice sound sarcastic. I heard him sigh.
"I know it wasn't exactly what you wanted. I'm sorry I did it at all. I've been crazy ever since. And you couldn't respond to it. It wasn't right of me to kiss you like that, especially considering everything that was on your mind."
"I wanted you to, Jordan, I think." I hated that he sounded desperate, like he was going to die without me. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? But honestly, I don't know when we can. I mean, we have a lot of games coming up. Oilers and Capitals back to back, then only a day before we play Chicago," I paused, realizing that that was the first time I'd said the schedule right today. I'd have to talk to Carmen and my mom and dad about that so that we'd get it straight. "And between them we have Mustache Boy. I guess I wouldn't shave my legs? That could get gross..."
I heard Jordan laughing and I felt my cheeks redden. "Please don't," he said. "I want you to win. Though it would be funny if it got down to the two of us."
"I'd have to kick your ass again," I said. I quietly groaned nervously as the bus scene came on my television.
"What?" Said Jordan, who must have heard me.
"Just Dirty Harry. I'm at the bus scene. I hate that one."
"Really? I love that scene." He sounded sarcastic, but I wasn't entirely sure.'
"Sicko," I said, giggling.
"So," he said, changing the subject, "tomorrow's game day."
"Yep. But Dan said I wouldn't be playing until earliest Chicago." I paused the movie, turning all of my attention to Jordan. "At least it's a home game."
"So I guess you're one for starts in the Consol Energy Center." I could hear his smile. I remembered our fight.
"That was a really good fight, wasn't it?"
"Really good. You know, I think he's going to put you in for the Caps." His voice was earnest.
"I've been practicing my boxing," I said playfully.
"I hope you don't have to use it on anyone." He sounded wary, now. I grinned to myself. I hoped who I might have to use it on didn't pick a fight with me. I hadn't actually taken any boxing lessons, but it was a nice cover story. "I mean, you did throw some pretty hard punches. Are you planning on knocking him out?" I thought Jordan knew who I was talking about.
"I don't know. That depends."
"OK. But if you're getting it, I'm coming in to help you."
"No, you're not," I said firmly and almost immediately. I was a little startled at my own firmness.
"OK, then. I guess I'm not."
"OK." We paused for a moment. "Did Marc tell you what happened?"
"During what?"
"The party, or whatever that was." I rolled my eyes. I couldn't actually be mad at any of them for any sort of time.
"Well, I heard there were some death threats thrown around, and now that half of the team knows about us, we're screwed for Mustache Boy."
"You think they're going to make us..."
"I hope not. Not in front of all of those people, but I do know for a fact that it is a closed practice."
"That's odd. I always loved to go see Mustache Boy."
"You were there?"
"Mellon sent some kids in journalism over every now and then," I admitted sheepishly.
"Oh. I didn't know you were kind of associated with us before, you know, you actually were." He sounded awkward.
"Yep."
"I miss you."
"It's only been a few hours, Jordan. And that was kind of random." I hit play again on the television and fast-forwarded through the bus scene.
"I'm sorry. I just had to say it."
"I miss you, too."
"I don't mean this to be an agreeing conversation, though." He sounded a little disappointed. I wanted to agree with him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him forever. The scary part was that we'd never had a fully consensual kiss. Of all things regarding to our romantic relationship, I wanted that the most from him. Well, obviously I wanted his love and respect, and I was pretty sure I had that. I also wanted to give that to him, as well. I had been in a few past relationships, and only one ended in a horrible way. I had a feeling that that would haunt me later.
"It's not," I said. There was no sound on the other end. I figured he was thinking. I imagined him lounging about shirtless and a pair of sweats hugging his hips. His hand was running through his hair and that exposed a bruise on his under-arm that he had received from a hard hit a few nights ago. He was probably sitting on the couch that we had shared my first night as an NHL pro.
I hesitated for a moment before posing my question. I didn't want to sound like I was trying to be clingy or nagging at him for his company. I just wanted to be around him and enjoy myself, considering that I was rather bored here at home. "Can I come over?" I tried to make my voice even and conversational.
"Of course. Anytime you want, you can come. Can you drive, or do you want me to pick you up?" He sounded easy and a little relieved. I wanted to see his face.
"I'll drive," I said. I wanted to think and not have to worry about him as a distraction. I changed into jeans and a white lacy top with a long thin chain necklace. I applied no makeup (I never did, unless forced by Carmen). I threw on my red flats and grabbed my keys, yelling to my mother and father that I was going out. I really needed to get a house of my own.
The drive through the city was really nice. The sun was just beginning to set over the skyscrapers and traffic was a little thick, but other than that, it was a very peaceful drive.
As I drove, I tried not to think about him. I tried to concentrate on the music that was playing over the stereo. I took a turn that headed me toward my old elementary school and turned down the music a little bit. All of a sudden, my phone told me I had received a message. I glanced down and saw that it was Tazer. I ignored it until I pulled into Jordan's driveway a few blocks down the road.
The text was conversational, Hey, how are you?
I replied back that I was a little busy and that I would call him later that night. He replied with an affirmative and I shut my phone off, pocketed it, my keys, and my wallet and get out of the car.
I could hear music blaring from inside. There were no other cars in the driveway, and I figured Jordan had put his in the garage. I walked from his asphalt driveway to the flagstone steps. I rang to doorbell and within moments, the door was open and I was assaulted with the smell of chocolate chip cookies.
"Hey!" He said, grinning at me. "That was fast. Do you want some cookies?" He turned and headed toward the kitchen. I followed him, laughing.
"I guess so," I said awkwardly. "I have to be honest. I've never been asked that before."
"Good," he said. "At least you can say I was original."
"Oh, always." I grinned at him and he wrapped his arms around me, pressing me to him.
"It's private property, you know. Why don't we just screw the rules?"
"Once we get to this point, there's no such thing as privacy."
"Don't remind me later," he said, winking. I felt my cheeks reddening. "I like your outfit." He looked down at my shoes, grinning. I pointed my toe at him and I saw a small smile lick at the corners of his soft mouth. "Nice touch." He turned and began to walk toward the kitchen.
"I'd like to say the same about you." I followed him and perched on the barstool. He grabbed another pan of cookies and shoved them into the oven.
"Those smell amazing," I said. He looked at me and a devilish grin spread over his face.
"Give them a minute, then you can have one, OK, little Suzie?" His eyebrows were raised and he was smirking at me now. His agonizingly long legs carried him to stand right in front of me within an instant. His hands rested on my shoulders and he kneaded them thickly. I rose my shoulders to his touch and closed my eyes. His fingers danced on my neck and fluttered against my collar bone.
"You did this to tempt me, didn't you?" He asked, his mouth so close to my ear. I felt his stubble against my cheek and involuntarily shivered. His nose touched against the back of my jaw and I felt a warmth well up inside of me. His soft lips pressed against my hairline and he murmured something. I couldn't pick it up, though. I found myself moaning when I noticed his hands on my hips and that he was pressing me firmly into the counter. It didn't hurt, but I noticed my shirt had rode up and he was taking advantage of pressing his warm palms against the newly-feverish flesh of the small of my back. "That outfit, how so damn sexy you look in it."
"Jordan," I said, the name sounding almost like it came from an animal. His chest hit mine and crushed my breasts against him. My breath began to come in sporadic puffs. His face was so close to mine, he was out of focus, but I could see his eyes were half-closed. His lips hovered and inch above mine and it seemed as if we were just exchanging each other's air. I felt him tense as he nearly closed the gap between us-
The buzzer for the cookies went of and we practically flew apart. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable. He turned off the buzzer and pulled the cookies out of the oven. I watched his chest rise and fall with the frustrated breaths he was taking.
"Are you going on the road trip?" He was aggressively shoveling the cookies onto a cooling rack with some that were already cooling. He turned the oven off and stared at me as I hesitated in my response.
"Yeah. Like you said, Dan was thinking about maybe putting me in for the Caps."
Jordan nodded silently. He was like an animal only a few minutes ago, and now he was reserved and charming and sweet. That warmth I had felt before hadn't receded. I wasn't surprised about the feeling, but I considered it scary that almost everything he did made me want him more and more. My resolve wasn't going to last out much longer. I could last a week, tops. And I also felt that he was getting frustrated with me.
"I'm sorry about all of this," I said. "I really hate to do this, but I don't want to see you judged by everyone."
"You don't want to see yourself judged. Let's be honest. I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, but when I first came here, I really had to think about who I would choose as my girlfriend. It was weird to see a whole bunch of girls just throwing themselves at me. I hated it, but I finally found someone who was good enough for me, and I picked her. Granted, she was a bit of a whore and I later found out how much our personalities clashed. It was really bad for a while, and then we broke up. And from there, you know the story, and probably better than even myself. Your mind is something to behold." A small smile lit up his smooth skin and lit up his sea-colored eyes. I reacted subtly, containing my desire to hug him and also to hunt down whomever did this to him. He reminded myself of me.
"I think you're right. To be honest, I'm scared. I was in a really bad relationship with this guy in college. He took my virginity. Granted, I didn't know about any of this," I paused to gesture at the house, at him, "and I thought that I might spend my life with him. But the day after we slept together, he started spreading rumors about me and how much I was a slut and some other terrible things. We ended it that very day. I refused to date anyone since then." Tears stung at my eyes, but I managed to beat them back. Regardless, Jordan wrapped his arms around me and kissed the part in my hair. His sweet scent of lemon, linen, and grass filed my nostrils, and that combined with the distinctly warm and musky scent of his house and the chocolate chip cookies he was making.
His hand ran up and down my back. "That really sucks, Em."
"Hey, your relationship wasn't the greatest, either." All of a sudden, I noticed a tear had slipped onto his shirt. I pushed him away, wiping my spilling eyes. "I'm sorry. I should be more tough."
"It's alright," he said. He didn't touch me, and I was thankful for that. "Do you want to watch a movie?" He walked back to the cabinet and got out a plate. He put some cookies on it in a neat fashion and headed into the living room. He put the cookies on the coffee table and crouched down in front of the television. He opened the black cabinets on the TV stand and gestured to them. "I have no chick flicks. Sorry."
"How could you not have chick flicks?" I pretended to look shocked, but he could see my sarcasm. I looked at his stash and quickly chose one of my favorites, Fight Club
"I should have expected something like that," he said, smiling at me. I haded the DVD case to him and he plopped it in the player, pressed play, and settled into the couch beside me.
"I had a wonderful evening, Jordan," I said after the movie was done and the cookies had been demolished. I really hope you do great tomorrow. I'll see you bright and early at the Center, right?"
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to pick you up." He walked me down the hallway to the door. He opened it for me and he flinched against the chill.
"That would be great." I got up on my toes and kissed his cheek. He gave me a hug.
"I'll pick you up at six," he said. "Goodnight."
I turned around and headed for my car. I got inside and turned it on. Iris, buy the Goo Goo Dolls came on and I had to laugh at it's relation to his evening. I looked up and saw Jordan's face illuminated by the light outside the door. He looked like an angel against the snowy foreground and the dim lighting behind him. I offered him half of a smile and waved at him. He waved back, and I pulled out of his driveway and headed back home.
I lay on my bed in my pyjamas, my phone in my hands. Sorry, Tazer. I have to be up early tomorrow to go to Edmonton, then I'm going to Washington to kick Oven Chicken's butt.I grinned and pressed send. I flipped my phone shut and crawled under the covers.
I hope you won't have to kick mine,he replied. I laughed and replied that I hoped I didn't either, and that he'd never be able to live it down. I hadn't seen him in about three months. I was excited. I turned off my phone and fell asleep.
My alarm woke me up the next morning. I rolled out of bed, pulled on some sweats, and grabbed a bagel for breakfast. I grabbed my duffel and just as I looked out the window, Jordan pulled up. I rubbed my eyes and watched him get out of the car and walk toward the house.
All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around me. I jumped and almost screamed. I turned around and saw Carmen standing there in her pajamas and a blanket wrapped around herself. There was a knock at the door.
"Bye, Em. Have fun and kick the Caps' ass."
"I'll try," I said, giving her a big hug. There was another knock and I opened the door.
"Jeez, what are you trying to do, wake up the entire neighborhood?" I shoved his shoulder playfully. He smiled at me and looked over my shoulder to Carmen, who was giving the two of us a wry smile.
"Who's this?" He asked, stepping around me and tilting his head slightly to look at her.
"Carmen. She's my cousin." Jordan looked at me and something shocking was in those eyes, but I didn't know what it was. It was as if his eyes could see into the future and that there was something that he could envision. I was cautious as to whether or not I wanted to know what he was thinking.
"It's very nice to meet you, Carmen," he said. His eyes never moved from her face. As they shook hands, she blushed and smiled sheepishly. The moment didn't last long, though, and Jordan turned to me, a look in his eyes that spoke of uneasiness. "Are you ready to go, Emily?"
I nodded and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "I'll see you later, Carmen," I said. I looked up at Jordan, who was heading out the door. I followed him and looked over my shoulder once more at Carmen, who waved at me. I wiggled my fingers at her and closed the door behind me.
"What was that about?" I asked as soon as we had gotten about a block down the road. Jordan was on edge. Our bags were in the back seat. It was a very cold morning, so I sat on my hands while the car regained its full warmth.
"There was something about her that was really interesting. I wasn't quite sure what it was, though."
"You're scaring me, Jordan."
"Don't be. You're the only person I want to be with. Please don't forget that." He bit his lip. He sounded irked. I wasn't quite sure what he wanted me to think about what he had just said. Attraction looked like it had taken place. I wasn't going to be clingy, considering that we really weren't in a relationship and I also got to see him almost every single day. Maybe I was always a little concerned when Carmen was around good-looking guys. I really hated how immature that was, but sometimes, I couldn't help it. "Really. I couldn't hurt you like that, Ruey."
There were a few moments where we drove in silence. The radio was silent, but the vehicle was warmed up, now, so my hands rested on my lap.
"I really need to get you some new sweats," he said, looking down at my legs. "And a new shirt." I actually looked at what Jordan was wearing. It was the exact same as me, but he had a beanie on and obviously, it was Penguins gear.
"I'd look exactly like you," I pointed out.
"I'd like to think you're prettier," he quipped. I sighed. He read my expression and changed the subject. "You're excited, right?"
"Of course I'm excited. However, I really would have liked to have played my first game with the Pens in the Consol Energy Center, but playing against the Caps is just as good. I was telling Tazer about Oven Chicken."
"Oven Chicken?" Jordan quirked his eyebrow and turned onto the Fort Pitt Bridge. The traffic was just beginning to wake up in the city. Those that had to be early to work were now starting to move about. The stasis of Pittsburgh was being broken.
"Ovechkin," I elaborated. Jordan grinned and chuckled.
"If you say that to him, I think he might fight you." He merged through traffic seamlessly and we entered the tunnel.
"That may not be a bad thing," I said. "I'm planning on being physical this game."
"Don't you dare get yourself hurt, Emily LaRue," said Jordan in all seriousness. "That would be the shortest career ever, and I don't know what I'd do without someone to compete against in Mustache Boy."
"Oh, so this is all for you?"
"I'm a professional athlete with a Stanley Cup, sweetheart," he said sarcastically. "Of course it's all about me." We came out of the tunnel and headed down the road. There were some people coming into the city, but not many.
"Do you have any idea what they're going to make us do for Mustache Boy?" I asked, changing the subject.
"No..." he said. I looked at him with a skeptical look. He was blushing like a little boy who knew he'd get in trouble.
"Liar," I accused. "Tell me." I looked back out toward the road. I saw signs for the airport. I saw about three other cars on the road and came to the conclusion that at least one of them had to be my teammate, other than, obviously, Jordan.
"I can't," he said regretfully. "They told me to swear." Now he really sounded like a little kid. I could see he was a little excited behind his nervousness. I sighed. I wasn't going to get it out of him, no matter how hard I tired. He didn't seem like it, but I knew he would be really stubborn about not telling me.
"That's a pretty lame excuse, though."
Jordan just smirked. We drove a few minutes in silence. I looked at the trees and hills and stores up on the tops of hills, which I had seen dozens of times, but always looked at anyway.
"Have you been writing any of this down?"
"Writing? That's not exactly my style," I said. If he thought I kept a journal, or God forbid, a diary, he was mistaken.
"Not even some hidden blog somewhere? Not in a Bible? What was with the whole nun business, anyway? Someone like you..." The honesty in his eyes made me flex a muscle in my jaw in nervousness.
"I don't know, Jordan."
"I mean, the whole nun thing is kind of, I don't know...It didn't really cross my mind the first time I met you. Or saw you, for that matter."
"So what are nuns supposed to look like?" I asked, feeling defensive.
"This isn't about your idea of a career choice, Emily," said Jordan easily. He scratched his head, which made his hair stick up. Impulsively, I reached over and smoothed it down for him. He looked at me suddenly, but then averted his eyes back to the road. "This is about my impression of you. Well-" He paused and looked at me, almost expectantly.
"You really are a little boy. Do you really want to know what I thought of you when I first saw you? Do you want me to be honest?"
"I think honesty would be the best," he said nervously. He tugged at his ear and scratched right behind it.
I looked at his hair that was flicking up behind his ears and his hard-looking brow. I tried not to imagine my tongue running along his jaw-line, or the fact that the air in the Consol Energy Center changed when I heard his voice. It was almost as if Eric had stiffened when his younger brother walked in the room, but it was for Jordan's sake. The protectiveness for him was touching.
"I thought that your brother was the most alert person in the room for both of our sakes, and I thought you were even better looking than when I'd watch warm-ups or little videos on YouTube. And I wanted you to touch me." I ran my tongue over my lips.
"Eric is the most protective of all of us," said Jordan. "He has all three of us, plus himself to look after. I mean, don't get me wrong. We'll fight to the teeth for the people we love," he paused a moment to look at me. My expression remained blank. I was really flattered that he had said that. I knew he was talking about me. Of course he was. But it was beyond that. He was talking about his family and he was talking about his teammates. "But I thought you really belonged there. You belonged in a hockey uniform, but for some reason not in a 'Canes one." He smirked.
I resisted his humor. "I feel better here," I supplied. I loved Carolina, but Pittsburgh was home. It had been since the day I was born. I smiled to myself, and we arrived at the airport in a peaceful silence.
Jordan parked and pulled the keys from the ignition. We opened our doors simultaneously and stepped out into the chilly morning.
They took our bags and we met up with the rest of the team. Marc-Andre Fleury grinned at the two of us and I found myself blushing deeply. My pulse pounded. I tried to find something to look at other than that mischievous grin.
I looked to my side and noticed Jordan had wandered off. My stomach grumbled. I didn't know why I was so nervous, but I couldn't help it.
James Neal was the first person to come to my side. His hand instinctively found the small of my back, fluttering between my shirt and the edge of my sweats. I turned to face him and his hand fell away. I searched his face for comfort.
"Jordan didn't realize," he began. I ran my tongue through my extremely dry mouth. "He didn't realize you'd be nervous."
"I'm not-"
"You're lying through your teeth," he said, concerned.
I tore my eyes from his face because the rest of the team was headed toward the plane. I did not agree or disagree to his statement.
"Let's go," he siad after pausing for a moment. He gave me a small shove and a reassuring smile. "You can do this. You wouldn't be here if you couldn't."
I sighed and we went up the escalator. We caught up with the rest of the team and went through security together.
We loaded onto the plane. I decided to sit in the back sandwiched between Cookie and Duper.
"French salute!" Yelled Pascal. I looked at him and every single person in the plane raised their hands about their heads.
I smiled. "What the hell?"
"Oh, come on," said Duper. I wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "Don't you get it?" He looked slightly hurt. I frowned.
"No, I get it," I said. I mocked him by putting my hands up in surrender. "Don't shoot me, I get it."
Duper laughed and Cookie chuckled.
"And now I get stuck with you two," I pretended to grumble. Matt made a pouting face.
"We're not that bad," he said, giving me his perfected puppy-dog eye look. I sighed and rolled my eyes. He cocked his eyebrows at me.
"Hey, none of that!" I said. I smacked his arm and he immediately clutched at it.
"Not so hard, woman!"
"I would have thought you'd be tougher than this," I said, pretending to pout. A boyish grin spread across his features. He winked. I made a face and shook my head.
I sat down and look to the man sitting beside me. Pascal Dupuis was making the silliest face I had ever seen.
I barked out in laughter and the entire plane turned around to look at me. Duper had his poker face on and Matt was giving me a confused look. I blushed. Everyone turned around again and Tanger came back.
"Do I need to rescue you, or can you two behave yourselves?" He gave me a wry grin.
"We'll try to be good, Momma 'Tang," said Matt.
"Good. I already have a problem child." He inclined his head to where Flower was in Jordan's bag, cranking up the volume of his MP3 player before he sat down.
"Good luck with that," I said. He saluted and went back to his seat.
We headed off toward Edmonton. The team held conversations on the plane and some of the boys played on their DS's with each other.
The plane ride seemed rather short. We arrived in Edmonton around lunch time. The crew was going to get our stuff and put it in the hotel rooms for the night.
I stood in the airport with my bag across my shoulder. I looked around appreciatively. The place looked welcoming enough. I shivered slightly, taking in the slight chill in the air. Jordan, who was standing to my right, took notice. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me.
"No thanks," I said, brushing it off. It really wasn't that cold. Once we got moving, I would be fine.
Jordan shrugged and put his jacket back on. Flower came up behind us.
"Stop standing there like tourists," he said playfully. "People are going to think you're weird." He twirled his finger around his ear, mocking us as if we were crazy. Jordan gave him a shove.
"The little lady's taking it all in, dude." He patted my shoulder affectionately. "This road trip is kind of a big deal for her, for everyone, really. I mean, we're not the 'Canes." Jordan looked at me as if he needed permission to dis, if only lightly and in jest, my old team. I frowned without much distaste. I didn't mind.
Something changed. I didn't really know what it was, at first, but when I saw him walking toward me as if he had just seen God (or maybe, in my case Mary), I knew it was he. He wore a worn tan leather jacket with tons of pockets, distressed dark blue jeans that had little tears along them. Well, they were more frays than full-out holes in his pants. He had on brown sporty shoes. His shirt peeked through a lighter blue-ish gray polartec jacket with a hood that was under his leather one. His shirt was black with a gray design on it that curved up the left side of his body, but I really couldn't make out what exactly it was of, considering he had two jackets in the way and his hands were stuffed in his pockets.
His body build was tall and lean. I wouldn't have said skinny by his gait. He was sure footed and I could sense the confidence that hid behind his slightly timid exterior. He may have been strong and bulky, but I couldn't tell from all of the clothes he wore. He looked a little rag-a-muffin with good taste to me.
He looked slightly frightened and crazy, and his hair probably contributed to that. It was extremely dark and he looked like he had just rolled out of bed. His short hair stuck up at odd angles and he seemed to have smushed it down in the front, but it looked very, veryflattering on him. Some stray strands of hair fell over his lightly creased forehead. His brow was clearly defined and he had thick, but not bushy eyebrows. His earlobes peeked out from the fringes of his hair. His jaw was about normal, maybe on the wider, more shallow side, so his face looked wide, but not disproportionately so. He had a bit of a cleft chin. Not extreme to the point of he looked like he had a butt on his face, but it was slight and seemed to fit perfectly with his conflicting features.
His lips were thinner and were a warm color. They were accented by the dark stubble on his face and his philtrum's light shadow. His nose was crooked in what otherwise would have been all the right places if I didn't have a Greek hockey god standing right beside me, who was eyeing up the same man with a careful, tenacious air.
His high cheekbones didn't protrude and seemed to flow from his easily set eyes. But his eyes were the killer. They were guarded by nearly impossibly thick, black lashes. The eyes themselves were just a little large, but not bulging and not wide. He had a way of looking that was calm but alert, calculating. It seemed as if he saw everything, but wouldn't let you know it until you thought he didn't know. His irises were a frigid, icy blue that pierced through the room. And they were focused straight on me.
Almost instantly they darkened into a warm, rich blue that nearly took my breath away. Jordan was beautiful. There was no denying that. I loved (or thought) I loved him very much for both his looks, but of course more his personality.
Anyway, this man was God himself.
"Hello," he said, smiling only at me. His straight, white teeth shown almost a little too brightly in the industrial lighting of the airport. He stuck his hand out toward me and I took it tentatively. The man squeezed it briefly. Professional, clean, and friendly. Jordan visibly stiffened.
'Right,' I thought, 'Fight to the teeth for the ones you love.'
"My name is Caspar Laurenson. I'm with the paper here in Edmonton and was sent here to do an interview with you. I understand you just got off the plane. I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch, coffee, maybe, with me while I ask you a couple of questions?" He looked at Jordan and Marc with ease. It was as if the hulking, muscular giants didn't phase him one bit. "Unless you have other plans..." He didn't sound like he was trying to be distasteful. He was polite and congenial.
I looked, unsure to Jordan. Then, I remembered. I was an adult, a woman who was pioneering the way for women to join one of the most intense sports in the world. I'd have to handle these people alone at some point. I didn't need Jordan around all of the time to be a productive member of society. The hardest part of this lunch would be not flirting. Obviously, this man, Caspar, was gorgeous.
I smiled thinly at him. "I'd love to have lunch with you. Do you want to go now? I'm kind of hungry."
His stance didn't change, but I could see the small sign of relief in his eyes. "Yeah. That'd be great."