Most telling was the fact that she refused to give me those three little words again. She said them to me that night of her appointment with Dr. Yoffman…just before I went down on her and showed her how much I loved her with my tongue. But since then, she kept the words locked tight. I never heard them thereafter, not even when I took her to the airport and dropped her off for her flight.
Not after I pulled her into my arms and gave her a desperate hug, a soft kiss, told her how much I loved her.
How much I would miss her.
She dug her fingers into my shirt, holding on tight to me. Almost desperately.
She whispered, “I’ll miss you too. So much.”
Those words didn’t sound prophetic or foreboding, but in hindsight, they apparently meant something different to her than they did to me.
For me, it was merely a temporary goodbye. For her, I’m thinking it was permanent.
Of course, I don’t know for sure because she won’t fucking talk to me, and thus the reason for my rage.
Five paces from my locker, I take my stick and throw it against the wooden cubbies, where it bounces off and clatters to the floor. I shake my hands, dislodging my gloves, and sit down on the bench heavily. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for further disappointment.
Pulling my phone out of my bag, I turn it on and immediately see a waiting text. My heartbeat picks up and I jab at the text icon, hoping beyond hope it’s from Olivia.
My last text to her was meant to get her off her ass to respond to me. It was short and to the point.
Contact me or I’m getting on the next plane to Portland.
Bitter disappointment bubbles from within as I see the text isn’t from her, but rather Stevie. He’s become my sounding board…the only one who really knows how I feel about Olivia, but he’s as clueless as I am when it comes to the inner workings of Olivia’s brain. She’s refused his calls, but did send him a text that just said she needed some time alone and she’d contact him soon.
Per Alex, she sent the same message to Sutton.
For me…I get nothing from her. Fuck, that pisses me off.
While Stevie isn’t who I wanted to hear from, his text brings me a small measure of peace. When I realized my efforts to get through to Olivia via her cellphone weren’t working, I decided to circumvent that and reach out to the one person that I know is firmly in my corner.
His text was simple. Call me. I have an idea.
For the first time in days, I actually smile. It’s a devious smile, because I’m not done with Olivia yet. She may be avoiding me, but I’m going to figure a way to get to her…to make her at least talk to me. And apparently I’m going to use Stevie to help.
The sound of players stomping into the locker room filters in and I stuff my phone back into my bag.
“Samuelson…my office…now!” Pretore barks at me. I know I’m in deep shit, but I can’t seem to muster up enough energy to care about it. My thoughts are consumed by Olivia, and until I can figure out what the fuck is going through her head, nothing else really fucking matters.
—
I blew Alex off after the game. We didn’t win, so there was no celebratory party at Houlihan’s, but rather Alex invited me out to a more obscure bar where we could have a beer and “talk.” I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I took a rain check and he gave me a worried look. I ignored him and now I’m home. Kicking my shoes off, I flop down on my couch and dial Stevie. He answers on the second ring.
“Stupid penalty, girlfriend,” he chides me. I can’t help but smirk, because Stevie has become a reluctant hockey fan. Or, rather, he’s become a Garrett Samuelson fan, because Olivia made him come over to her apartment to watch all my away games.
And…ouch…just thinking of Olivia, sitting at home with Stevie and cheering me on while I was away, causes pain to throb in the center of my chest. I wonder if she watched the game tonight, but it’s doubtful. She told me that Maryana doesn’t own a TV.
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t give a shit. What’s your idea?”
“Okay, here’s what I was thinking,” Stevie says in a hushed whisper.
“Are you with someone?” I cut in.
“What? No, why?” he asks with surprise.
“You’re whispering. Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” Stevie says with exasperation. “I’m getting ready to go all covert, so it felt like a whisper was in order.”
“Fuck, you’re weird,” I grumble into the phone, and Stevie gives a girly chuckle.
“Okay, clearly she’s ignoring me, you, and Sutton. I have no clue why she’s ignoring you, but it’s obvious she’s ignoring me and Sutton because we’ve made it plain to her that we’re on your side.”
“You have?” I ask with surprise.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Stevie simpers. “We’ve been double-teaming her with voice mails and texts, telling her to get off her ass and call you.”
A warm feeling of gratitude overwhelms me because I had no idea that they were being vocal with Olivia. I just figured Stevie was listening to me spill my pain, and I hadn’t really discussed any of this with Sutton because she wasn’t exactly on my side when all this started. But knowing that she’s on my side now makes me want to wrap her up in a big bear hug.
“So, what’s the big idea?” I ask, bringing us back to the real issue.
“We’re getting Maryana involved. We need someone on the inside,” Stevie says in a hushed whisper again, and I know he’s gone all Mission: Impossible on me.
Not after I pulled her into my arms and gave her a desperate hug, a soft kiss, told her how much I loved her.
How much I would miss her.
She dug her fingers into my shirt, holding on tight to me. Almost desperately.
She whispered, “I’ll miss you too. So much.”
Those words didn’t sound prophetic or foreboding, but in hindsight, they apparently meant something different to her than they did to me.
For me, it was merely a temporary goodbye. For her, I’m thinking it was permanent.
Of course, I don’t know for sure because she won’t fucking talk to me, and thus the reason for my rage.
Five paces from my locker, I take my stick and throw it against the wooden cubbies, where it bounces off and clatters to the floor. I shake my hands, dislodging my gloves, and sit down on the bench heavily. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for further disappointment.
Pulling my phone out of my bag, I turn it on and immediately see a waiting text. My heartbeat picks up and I jab at the text icon, hoping beyond hope it’s from Olivia.
My last text to her was meant to get her off her ass to respond to me. It was short and to the point.
Contact me or I’m getting on the next plane to Portland.
Bitter disappointment bubbles from within as I see the text isn’t from her, but rather Stevie. He’s become my sounding board…the only one who really knows how I feel about Olivia, but he’s as clueless as I am when it comes to the inner workings of Olivia’s brain. She’s refused his calls, but did send him a text that just said she needed some time alone and she’d contact him soon.
Per Alex, she sent the same message to Sutton.
For me…I get nothing from her. Fuck, that pisses me off.
While Stevie isn’t who I wanted to hear from, his text brings me a small measure of peace. When I realized my efforts to get through to Olivia via her cellphone weren’t working, I decided to circumvent that and reach out to the one person that I know is firmly in my corner.
His text was simple. Call me. I have an idea.
For the first time in days, I actually smile. It’s a devious smile, because I’m not done with Olivia yet. She may be avoiding me, but I’m going to figure a way to get to her…to make her at least talk to me. And apparently I’m going to use Stevie to help.
The sound of players stomping into the locker room filters in and I stuff my phone back into my bag.
“Samuelson…my office…now!” Pretore barks at me. I know I’m in deep shit, but I can’t seem to muster up enough energy to care about it. My thoughts are consumed by Olivia, and until I can figure out what the fuck is going through her head, nothing else really fucking matters.
—
I blew Alex off after the game. We didn’t win, so there was no celebratory party at Houlihan’s, but rather Alex invited me out to a more obscure bar where we could have a beer and “talk.” I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I took a rain check and he gave me a worried look. I ignored him and now I’m home. Kicking my shoes off, I flop down on my couch and dial Stevie. He answers on the second ring.
“Stupid penalty, girlfriend,” he chides me. I can’t help but smirk, because Stevie has become a reluctant hockey fan. Or, rather, he’s become a Garrett Samuelson fan, because Olivia made him come over to her apartment to watch all my away games.
And…ouch…just thinking of Olivia, sitting at home with Stevie and cheering me on while I was away, causes pain to throb in the center of my chest. I wonder if she watched the game tonight, but it’s doubtful. She told me that Maryana doesn’t own a TV.
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t give a shit. What’s your idea?”
“Okay, here’s what I was thinking,” Stevie says in a hushed whisper.
“Are you with someone?” I cut in.
“What? No, why?” he asks with surprise.
“You’re whispering. Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” Stevie says with exasperation. “I’m getting ready to go all covert, so it felt like a whisper was in order.”
“Fuck, you’re weird,” I grumble into the phone, and Stevie gives a girly chuckle.
“Okay, clearly she’s ignoring me, you, and Sutton. I have no clue why she’s ignoring you, but it’s obvious she’s ignoring me and Sutton because we’ve made it plain to her that we’re on your side.”
“You have?” I ask with surprise.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Stevie simpers. “We’ve been double-teaming her with voice mails and texts, telling her to get off her ass and call you.”
A warm feeling of gratitude overwhelms me because I had no idea that they were being vocal with Olivia. I just figured Stevie was listening to me spill my pain, and I hadn’t really discussed any of this with Sutton because she wasn’t exactly on my side when all this started. But knowing that she’s on my side now makes me want to wrap her up in a big bear hug.
“So, what’s the big idea?” I ask, bringing us back to the real issue.
“We’re getting Maryana involved. We need someone on the inside,” Stevie says in a hushed whisper again, and I know he’s gone all Mission: Impossible on me.
