Meghan was ready to leave. The only thing between her and the way to John’s house was James, who was currently in the living room watching TV. Loudly. Like he wanted her to know he was there.

The longer something goes unspoken the bigger it gets, but Meghan was not about to open the conversation they’d both been avoiding on her way out the door. That wasn’t fair to James. She hoped for the best, steeled herself for the worst and with a last look in the mirror, headed downstairs.

James didn’t like anything about this - didn’t like that Meghan and John were going out, or how confused he felt about it. Mostly he didn’t like that he didn’t know what to say to her. An invisible wall had gone up in the middle of their friendship - they could see each other but couldn’t cross. Footsteps on the stairs told him it was showtime.

His back was to her. That familiar head of hair had gotten pretty long and wild since he hadn’t cut it after the playoffs. Meghan wanted to run her hands through it and give him a noogie for acting like such a big brother, but he didn’t budge. Didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge her at all. They had a little stand-off in the sitting room. Finally she walked up, wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and kissed him on top of the head.

James sagged a little in her embrace. He wanted to tell her he’d be waiting up - which he would, but in his room so it wasn’t an issue. Even just ‘be careful’ or ‘drive safely’ sounded possessive and controlling. She let go after a few moments and walked toward the door.

God, James thought when he saw what she had on. Only a colossal asshole let a woman looking that good pass without a word.

“You look great,” he said.

Meghan’s breath caught. It was something. She looked back at James and told him, “Be home soon.”
____

John’s house was what she would call modest for someone who made just over half of his $4 million salary during the last, shortened season. Next year he’d make $5 million in the second year of his six-year, $33 million deal. Meghan knew it bugged James because it was $3 million more than his own contract.

The house was two floors with a stone facade and peaked roof, a two car garage and a flagstone walk up to a bright red front door. The way John had looked like a J Crew ad at the party, this house looked like a poster for a happy family’s future home.

“Gaaaah, perfect!” Meghan said to her steering wheel.

John heard her car pull up because he’d been sitting perfectly still in the living room waiting for her. He wasn’t going to tell her that, then gave it away by opening the door before she rang the bell.

“Hi.” Meghan smiled and he almost ripped the door off its hinges. Her long brown hair was pinned into a little bump and the front then fell loose and tousled over bare shoulders. A sleeveless dress in bright blue swirled around her, ending a little on the high side. Black trim worked as thin straps and edged the bodice of the dress, giving it the illusion of being more form-fitting than it was. She had added flat black ankle boots and a chunky black bangle at her wrist.

“Hi, wow,” he said.

Meghan giggled. She had been pretty prepared for John to look good, but this was just stupid. He’d taken a page right out of Del Zotto’s book - crisp white v-neck t-shirt and dark red shorts, frayed at the hems like cutoffs even though they were clearly designer. She wondered if he had to buy his pants custom-made like Crosby. Meghan forced herself to stop checking out his lower body. The rest of him was just fine with it’s burgeoning muscle and healthy tan glow. She pointed to his gray converse sneakers.

“I knew you’d be wearing closed shoes,” she said triumphantly. Everything about John screamed sensible footwear decisions.

“My dancing shoes,” he smiled.

“Your house is beautiful,” Meghan said, leaning in. John hurried to invite her in instead of gawking at her on the stoop like a pervert. He gave her a quick tour, showing off that he’d cleaned as much as he was showing off the house. The kitchen was all blond wood and light countertops, very airy. The main living room had the typical boy touches - overstuffed gray couches, a huge flatscreen TV, the cords of a Playstation sticking out where John had shoved them inside the stand underneath.

“Now that is a chair.” Meghan gestured to the one-and-a-half times wide lounge chair with ottoman. It looked fit to hold Hargid from Harry Potter, or sleep in. Or get really cozy with someone when the couch seemed far to big to....

Stop! she told herself sharply.

“Yeah, it’s great for naps,” John said.

Meghan tried not to sink into the floor.

There was a den, not much used, and upstairs two guest bedrooms and a master. She looked in John’s room without entering, but noticed that he’d neatly made his bed and arranged the piles of whatever boys kept on their desks. The carpet was striped with fresh vacuum lines.

He cleaned his room for me, she thought, holding onto the doorframe for support. I don’t really need to see this concert. Someone will bootleg it. We can watch it on YouTube, tomorrow morning, in our underwear on that huge chair.

“Should we go?” John asked awkwardly. It was the first time he’d ever been alone with Meghan and he’d taken her straight to his bedroom. What kind of move was that?

“Mmmhmmm,” Meghan said through her fake smile.

John carefully opened the front door for Meghan then the door to his gray Audi sedan. She flipped through and found a station on satellite radio while he drove toward the Entertainment District.

“Do you come into the city a lot?” she asked.

John shook his head. “I used to, but not so much anymore. Same in New York. Plus I’ll be moving to Brooklyn, I guess, so I don’t want to get city-ed out. What about you?”

“I used to go out down here all the time. Most of my friends - our friends, mine and James’ - moved here after university. Since I was in London, I actually haven’t been back here in a year.”

They admired the Toronto skyline as they passed inside it, heading toward the entertainment district. What traffic there was after seven on a weekday was mostly headed away from the city. John pulled up at a valet stand marked Koh Sahn Road and the attendant went to Meghan’s door. She came hurrying over, looking thrilled.

“Agh! I haven’t had Thai food since London either!”

She threw her arms right around John. The feeling of her body pressed to his, even though he didn’t have his arms out or anything, made John’s vision blur. She smelled great and was warm and soft and bouncing and he needed to sit down right now. He reached for the door.

“Tavares, for two,” he told the hostess. It wasn’t too busy yet, most of the dinner crowd would come in after seven. She showed them to a small table against the wall toward the back. Other two-tops were lined up next to them in the long, narrow space and the open kitchen ran along the opposite side.

A waitress took their order right away. Meghan ordered a Thai iced tea, so John did too. He couldn’t really drink because he was driving and shouldn’t really drink because this still might not be a date. Despite her fantastic dress, the makeup and hair done just enough, he might still be on the outside.

Meghan looked at the menu to keep from looking at John. She was nervous as a teenager and it was all over her face. It did not help that he looked so good he’d turned every head in the place. Maybe they recognized him, but Meghan figured they just thought he was hot. Because that’s what she was thinking.

“I spent a month in Thailand right after uni,” she said. “And all I did was eat. And scuba. I swear they had to keep changing my gear because I was eating so much I couldn’t balance out my weight.”

“A month? That sounds incredible.”

“It was spectacular. Have you ever been?”

“No,” John shook his head. A month off, to a place with no training facilities? That was nuts. “I have never actually been on a real vacation. Except with my parents when I was a kid.”

Meghan narrowed her eyes. “Never?”

“No.”

“Not even Disney World?”

John laughed. “No. We went to the cottage and stuff, but nothing big time.”

“Okay. First thing on the list: John needs a vacation.”

“What list?”

Meghan rolled her eyes like it should be obvious. “The To-Do List.”

John insisted that she order for them, which was just as well. Then she didn’t have to explain why she ordered the non-spicy, non-overwhelmingly garlic version of everything, just in case this turned out to be a date later in the evening. The first dish to arrive was gra bong, or fried squash fritters.

John took one look at them and said, “Do not tell Gary about this.”

Over the appetizers and a shared dish of cashew nut chicken with bay leaves the size of dollar bills, Meghan and John talked. He had two younger sisters, they were both athletes in college. Meghan could tell he was really proud of them by the way he spoke.

“Do they ever visit you?”

“My parents live in Mississauga, so I see them all the time. My sisters visit when they’re home but,” he paused, “I am trying to keep them away from too many hockey players, if you know what I mean.”

Meghan burst out laughing. “Story of my life: too many hockey players.”

“How do you know everyone, anyway?”

She leaned back so the waitress could deliver a dish of yellow curry with vegetables. “I grew up near James and our parents were friends. I think they wanted a girl around with all those Neal brothers before they got into too much trouble. His sister Rebecca is the youngest, so she wasn’t really a factor. It’s a small world - Whitby, Markham, Oshawa. Everyone played junior somewhere but summers and stuff, they were all back. James stood out from the pack a little, Steven definitely did. I’ve know him for quite a while too. PK Subban was my coach one summer for a half marathon. Steven knew Del Zotto, then everyone knew Del Zotto. Even back in the day he was one hundred percent MDZ.”

John saw that Meghan cared a lot for these guys, which would explain why she hung around where most girls would probably be uncomfortable. It also explained how she withstood their constant attention.

“Did you ever, uh, date any of them?” he asked, looking intently at a piece of cauliflower.

Here we go, Meghan thought. “When James was in grade ten and I was in nine, he kissed me. Once. In a snowball fight. Looking back it was really adorable but at the time, I thought any boy that wasn’t Justin Timberlake was absolutely repulsive. Since then, no.”

“And Justin Timberlake?” John prompted.

“Still at the top of my list,” she grinned.

The food was delicious and when they were both full before it was gone. Meghan declined dessert. When the bill came, she reached for her purse.

“My treat,” John said.

Date, they both thought.

Meghan protested mildly and gave up easily, kind of like her resistance to John general.
___

The concert venue was on a small island just off Lake Shore Drive; John followed the signs and joined a stream of cars. Once they parked, they could tell it was worth the wait.

“Wow,” Meghan said. The stage was at one end, with nothing but open space in front. No seats, no aisles just general admission. The ground underfoot was sand. Food and beer vendors were arranged in clusters, dotted with volleyball courts and other ways to pass the time before the music started. Already the place was half full and the first band was just finishing.

“Ever been here?” he asked.

“Nope. It opened right before I left last year. You?”

“First time.”

They did a lap of the venue, weaving between people and seeing what there was to see. John let Meghan lead - if she wanted to be up front she could have taken them closer to the stage. Instead she stayed around the fringes where they could still hear and talk.

Meghan knew the area near the stage would turn into a mosh pit the second Fall Out Boy came on. She’d seen them once before. Being around the edges gave her just enough reason to lean close to talk to John without worrying about his safety. He threw his body around for a living but during the off-season he needed it working properly. She might need it too.

John caught a lot of people looking his way. Only about half of their eyes stopped on him, most went right to Meghan. The breeze off the lake was rifling her hair, exposing her shoulders to the warm night. With the stage lights flashing and the city twinkling in the background, it was like walking through the midway of a fair. As the darkness closed in, so did the crowd and John felt that familiar urge to hold and protect her rev up.

Someone bumped into Meghan. She and John were headed a little closer to center, threading through knots of people into empty spaces that would soon disappear. She looked back and didn’t see him.

“Here,” he said from her other side. John dodged a person walking across his path and closed in near Meghan. His fingers slipped into hers, knitting together. His hand was as steady and warm; she passed a few perfectly good viewing locations just to keep holding it.

“How’s this?” she eventually asked, looking back again. John bumped his chest against her shoulder, so close together they almost kissed again. She gasped quietly.

Above the din of five thousand people all waiting for the same thing, John heard the sound of the one thing he’d been waiting for. That soft catch of breath was the noise Meghan would make when he kissed her for real, when the time was right. And maybe she’d make it again if any of his other wishes came true.

Meghan froze. John’s usual dorkiness was erased by what was suddenly a very determined look. Up close, his dark eyes were intense. In a heartbeat he would smile and become his normal self again, the way she really liked him, but this glimpse of another, more forceful person inside made Meghan weak with desire.

She was sure he was going to kiss her. He was pretty sure too. Then the lights went out.
____

John watched Meghan watching the show, dancing a little and singing along. He could tell which songs were her favorites by how excited she got at the first notes. The entire audience moved the entire time, they were never still. He rocked to the beat but his eyes were never long on the stage.

Meghan was very glad they were not drinking. Between the heat and the music and the closeness of the crowd it was bad enough trying not to touch John. He stood next to her, their arms bumping, edging protectively behind her shoulder. Luckily she was singing and cheering too much for the space to get really awkward. It still felt easy to interact with John. His low voice had to be very close to her ear to hear anything, but she didn’t mind.

He didn’t really sing along. At first she thought it just wasn’t his style and he seemed to be having fun anyway. The band played what seemed like every track they’d ever recorded except the two biggest, then went offstage.

“Why do bands still do this?” John said, his breath tickling her neck.

The first answer that came to her mind was the same reason she and James were not talking, the reason for the tension that filled their house. It was true of the anticipation of hearing a favorite song. Looking at John from point blank range, feeling his voice as much as she heard it, Meghan knew it was also true of a kiss.

“The longer something goes unspoken the bigger it gets,” she said.

The first chords of “Light ‘Em Up” from the Penguins and NHL commercials that James hated cut through the night. The crowd went crazy. It was different, hearing the song live. She suddenly wasn’t sick of it anymore. As she started singing along, John did too. Meghan realized, after two solid hours of watching them play, it was probably the only Fall Out Boy song John knew.

Then she really wanted to kiss him.

The last note of that song had hardly faded, drowned out by the crowd, before “Sugar, We’re Going Down” started. Meghan smiled to herself - John knew that one too. She moved half a step closer, using the swell of the crowd as an excuse.

John’s hand made up his mind. It slipped around Meghan’s waist and settled at the small of her back, the way he’d held onto her in the bar. The move felt so natural. They stayed that way until the last song ended when they needed their hands to applaud. As soon as that died and people started streaming for the exits, John reached for Meghan’s hand and this time he lead the way.

The quiet inside the car was bliss. They looked at each other, heads back against the seats, their laughter effectively silenced by the ringing in their ears. John steered into the line of traffic and they were soon on the highway back to his house.

He wanted to take her hand. It seemed safe because he’d done it before, she’d let him hold it while they walked. That had served an obvious purpose though. Now it would serve only to cement the fact that this had been a date, a good date, and it was nearly over. Unfortunately, John’s car was standard and he needed that hand to drive.

Meghan let the quiet fall between them, not awkward but comfortable. She was thinking about the evening and how she wanted it to end. They zipped out of the city and back to John’s neighborhood quickly on the empty roads. Before long he rolled to a stop next to her car.

John cleared his throat. “Do you want to come in?”

If Meghan went in she wouldn’t leave. Maybe they wouldn’t even do anything but behind closed doors, the game would change. It was headed that way now. James would be up waiting for her and she wanted to break this to him gently.

“I should go, since I have to drive.”

Despite what he was hoping for, John knew this was the best move. He told her to stay put, then circled around and opened her door, helping her out of the car.

“Allow me,” he cracked and Meghan laughed. With all the gallantry he could muster, John escorted her formally the four meters to her own car. Meghan beeped her remote and the headlights flashed, but she didn’t reach for the handle. Instead, she let her arm fall from the crook of John’s elbow to his waist, turning him in. John felt a tightening in his chest.

Meghan licked her lips, looked up through her lashes and said, “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Do you actually like Thai food?”

John fought to keep a straight face. All night he thought he’d been cool, but at some point Meghan had figured him out. And somehow that still landed him the closest he’d been to a second kiss.

“Kinda,” he said.

The hint of a smirk twisted at the corner of her soft lips. “Do you like Fall Out Boy?”

John would have eaten mud pies while watching Lifetime movies if Meghan asked him to. Of all the things he’d have taken her to, just for the chance to be alone with her, dinner and a concert had been a breeze. For once, John felt confident. He let his smile grow.

“I like them enough.”

Meghan lifted onto her toes and kissed John at the same second he leaned down and kissed her. They could fight about who kissed who first later. For now, his arms reached around her back and pulled her close. Meghan did in fact gasp, just a little. John took that opening. His tongue sparked across hers, firing every nerve ending in his body. Meghan’s hand went immediately to the back of his neck, her slender fingers tugging at his hair. They kissed till they were woozy and breathless. John didn’t open his eyes until their lips had parted. Meghan’s green eyes were sparkling.

“Date,” he said. It felt great to admit that.

She bit her lip, still tasting his kiss. “Date.”
____