Chapter Eight
As I made my way across down, I flexed my fingers against the wheel and let out a small sigh of relief. Jesus, thank God I was out of there.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family. It was just that sometimes I found it quite hard to like them. I know everybody feels the same way once in a while, but with my parents, it was getting harder and harder to keep the happy face on for prolonged periods of time.
As soon as I was through the door, Mom had been on my back about how training was going, where the team was playing next, and whether or not I’d gotten the pay rise she had insisted I ask for since last time we saw each other. I knew it came from a good place, but none of this had been relevant before I started hitting the big time; in fact, I could still remember the looks of their faces when I told them that I wasn’t going to go to college.
“And how long will you be dedicating to this…hockey stuff?” Dad furrowed his brow, taking Mom’s hand comfortingly. He hadn’t been to see one of my games at that point, and it would be another year and a half before he turned out to the stadium to watch me play.
“As long as it takes,” I shrugged. “I know it seems crazy, but-“
“Think of everything you could be doing with your life!” Mom exclaimed, cutting me off- she had always been the more emotional of the two of them. “You could be…God, you could be travelling the world. Getting a good job. Meeting a nice girl…”
“I can still do all of those things,” I reminded her gently. “I just want to try out this hockey stuff first. See how far I can go.”
“And what kind of prospects would you have for your career if you stayed there? At the Ravens?” Dad pressed, leaning forward.
“The Crows,” I corrected him. “I don’t know, but I want to give it a try. Coach says I’m good enough to make a career out of it, if I want to, so-“
“And what would he know?” Mom snapped. “He’s been at that place for years and he hasn’t exactly made anything of himself.”
“We’re doing better than we have done in a long time!” I protested. “Please, I’m not asking for money, or-“
“You best not be,” Dad shot back sharply. “Because we’re not paying for you when all of this goes up in smoke. You going to get another job to support yourself while you’re at it?”
“I won’t have time,” I shook my head. “But I won’t need one-“
“They’re barely paying you enough to live under our roof, let alone one of your own,” Mom replied tersely. “You can’t stay here forever, Sam.”
“I don’t want to!” I narrowed my eyes without thinking, my back already up at their comments. Mom raised her brows at me, and I knew I’d overstepped the mark.
“Well, then, maybe you should go,” She nodded to the door. “If you’re so certain you can make it with all this hockey stuff.”
“I’m not certain,” I admitted. “But I want to try.”
“Fine,” Dad held his hands up. “But don’t come crawling to us when this doesn’t work out for you, you hear?”
I moved out later that week, on to the couch of one of my teammates- it would be a few months before I could afford a bed of my own. Things cooled down after a while, but even now, my parents didn’t seem to regard my hockey as anything other than a hobby that had vastly overstayed it’s welcome. And yet, I knew they loved having a son who was so well-known about town- and that was what annoyed me the most. They wanted me as a trophy and nothing more, and I had to admit, it was getting harder and harder to pretend like I didn’t notice.
I made my excuses and left right after I got the phone call from Emily; it wasn’t exactly a vastly preferable alternative, but it would do for now. After a few minutes, I drew up to a halt outside the coffee shop, and spotted Emily nursing a coffee through the window. She glanced up, and when she laid eyes on me, offered me a small wave.
I made my way inside, picked up a drink, and joined her at the table.
“Hey,” she smiled up at me as I sat down, and then apparently took in my expression and frowned. “You okay?”
“Just family stuff,” I shrugged. “You know.”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied, not taking her eyes off of me. “What are your family like?”
I glanced around for her voice recorder, and couldn’t see it. That was a relief- I wanted to be able to talk without worrying that every word out of her mouth had a double-meaning attached to it.
“Ugh,” I grunted. “Irritating. You know? They spent so long criticising me for wanting to play sports for a living and then as soon as I started getting noticed suddenly they can’t wait to show me off.”
“Do they know about the offer?” She cocked her head to the side, and I could see her analysing me. I felt a little shiver of annoyance-it felt like everyone I spoke to these days had an ulterior motive to conversation with me, had something they wanted, and it was starting to get on my nerves.
“No,” I shook my head. “Just you and Johnson.”
“What do you think they’d tell you to do if they did?” She prompted me.
“I think they’d push me to take it,” I shrugged, wrapping my hands around my drink to warm them against the cold of the evening outside. “Which is why I don’t want to talk to them about it.”
“So you’re leaning towards not going?” She asked gently, and my head snapped up. It felt as though my hackles had raised all of a sudden, and I didn’t like it- I wasn’t used to feeling out of control, but I could feel the mist of discontentment descending as I looked at her.
“I’m not leaning towards anything,” I shot back. “Except making my own fucking decision for once in a while.”
She held her hands back and leaned back, as though putting space between us was the only way she could feel safe. I felt instantly embarrassed by my sharpness; she didn’t deserve this. We barely knew each other, and she was just here to try and get her story.
“Sorry,” She replied, her tone defensive. We stared at each other across the table, and a moment of loaded silence lurked between us for a second.
“I just…I don’t want people telling me what to do, or thinking less of me for the decisions I make,” I tried to keep my voice steady but I knew that the words were tumbling out of me without restraint.
“I wasn’t trying to push you either way,” She lowered her voice, glancing around as a few people glanced over in our direction to see what the commotion was about. “I was just asking, for the article.”
“Oh, so this is all going in?” I threw my hands in the air. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here to talk to you about this.”
“It won’t go in if you don’t want it to,” she promised. “This could just be some background research, it’s cool.”
She paused for a moment, staring at me, examining me closely as though she was looking for something else, something new.
“What is it?” I demanded. Her eyes seemed to be penetrating me, deeper than I felt comfortable with.
“You came out here to talk to me about this?” She wondered aloud. I shrugged, then nodded.
“I guess,” I mumbled. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I supposed she was right; I had needed to come out and blow off some steam after the bullshit of spending an evening with my family. It wasn’t like I could call up one of my teammates or whatever; they’d be out drinking and partying, and the last thing they wanted was me dropping a massive downer over their good time.
“Is there…no-one else you can talk to about this?” She asked gently, cocking her head at me.
I frowned at once; she was onto me, and I hated that. I needed something to throw her off the scent, needed some way to distract her…and then I found my eyes drifting down to her mouth. God, it had felt good on me the night before. She flushed slightly, and I knew she could tell what I was thinking. I smirked at her, and she smirked right back- fuck, were we really doing this? Less than I day after we agreed that it wouldn’t happen again?
Before I could stop myself, I leaned across the table, slipped my hand around the back of her neck, and kissed her. I was glad the place was almost empty- less gossip to go around, less people to bare witness to what was about to happen. I pulled back, and she met my gaze, her breath coming quicker than before. Mine was too. I let my eyes trail down her body, and flashed back to the sight of it writhing on top of me. Jesus, I needed this girl- needed her bad, needed her right that second.
“My place is just around the corner,” she suggested, and we got shot a look of deep and barely restrained disapproval from an old man sitting opposite us. We exchanged a look, and she giggled, sounding giddy.
“Let’s go,” I held my hand out to her, the awkwardness of the conversation forgotten at once as I felt the heat that had been between us the night before growing once again. She slid her hand into mine, and we left the coffee shop, our drinks abandoned, and our bodies pressed as tightly together as was appropriate to be seen in public.