Islands
Wager
December 2, 2010 Capitals 1 @ Stars 2
December 4, 2010 Thrashers 3 @ Capitals 1
December 6, 2010 Leafs 5 @ Capitals 4 (SO)
December 9, 2010 Panthers 3 @ Capitals 0
December 11, 2010 Avalanche 3 @ Capitals 2
“Do you think I could just get a jersey from your Swede?” Rochelle said to me. “You know, you getting together with him could be really beneficial for my wallet.”
“First of all, he isn’t my Swede,” I answered, “and second, I’m pretty sure the whole point of a Christmas gift is that you got it yourself.”
My sister shrugged, half-serious. “It’s the thought that counts.”
The two of us were doing our first round of Christmas shopping. It was a Sunday and fall semester finals at Georgetown were in the week ahead. With my light coursework of only four classes, I was only taking two finals on Tuesday and Wednesday, respectively. I’d already handed in a term paper and taken a multiple choice test on the last day of classes for my other two classes. My plan for the day at hand was to shop for a few hours with my sister and then study with a few friends at the campus library for a good chunk of the evening. Since Tanner was on a rotating work schedule, it was also one of his rare Sundays off, and he could watch Jaden while we shopped for the little boy.
I rolled my eyes. “I am not asking Nicky for merchandise freebies.”
I did see Nicky again after our meal on the day we met. He was serious when he said he wanted to see me again. Unlike other 23 year olds, who would probably play ‘the game’ and wait a day or two, he sent me a text before midnight on the same day. So I had Nicky B among the list of my contacts in my cellphone. The next time I saw him, he took me out on a date. We’d been talking to each other a lot since the day we met.
“Obviously I’m joking,” she replied. “But this year’s Christmas list is totally his fault!”
A week had passed since Nicky had been over to Jaden’s house and it was all the six-year-old could talk about. He loved the Washington Capitals and the team’s first line center was his hero of the month. For Christmas, Jaden decided that he wanted Caps gear and only Caps gear. He wanted an Ovechkin fathead for his room, he wanted a Caps red t-shirt, tickets to a Caps game, and a customized youth Bäckström jersey. To assure that Jaden’s eyes would light up on Christmas morning, Rochelle and I went to Ballston Common Mall. Attached to the mall was Kettler Capitals Iceplex and the team pro shop there.
“I’m sorry Nicky is so nice,” I smiled as we made our way towards Kettler.
“It’s just after 11,” Rochelle said, looking at her cellphone. “Are the Caps gonna be at practice?”
“They have a road game,” I told her. “They’re out of town. Aren’t you a Caps fan? Shouldn’t you know?”
She got a goofy grin on her face. “Look at you, all knowing his schedule and everything.”
“He told me before the team left.” I tried to play it cool, hoping she didn’t notice I was blushing. “They’re playing back-to-backs. Last night, they lost to the Avs at Verizon.”
Knowing that I had grown up a casual Colorado Avalanche fan, Nicky had offered to get me tickets for the previous night’s game. I said that I didn’t want to go because I would be torn between cheering for the Avs and cheering for him. Besides, the Caps left for Manhattan to face the New York Rangers right after the game. When I found out that the Avs won, leaving the Caps with a 5-game losing streak, I was glad that I hadn’t been at the Verizon Center. If I would have seen Nicky at all after the game, I wouldn’t have known what to say to him.
My sister, ever the enthusiast, answered, “Do you think your Swede will want to come to our Christmas party?”
“Chelle,” I whined, “he isn’t my Swede!”
“Why not!” she laughed at her own line. “You’ve already landed a third date, right? I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
“Second date,” I corrected. “I don’t think the day I met him counts.”
We rounded a corner and the pro shop was in front of us, a plethora of everything in the Capitals’ shade of red. We immediately walked towards the apparel and the jerseys section, in search of the youth sizes.
“Well, he asked you to go eat with him and he paid for it,” Rochelle reasoned. “I think it counts. You should be more excited.”
I picked up a Slapshot plush toy that was set next to two piles of Ovechkin shirseys. There was a third pile of shirseys, Bäckström 19s, next to The Great 8’s. It felt weird to be talking about him in a store that sold stuff with his name on it. Even weirder, I called him Nicky and had spent time with him even though I’d only known him for a week.
“I am excited,” I said. “But I don’t know if anything is really going to happen. I don’t know how much he likes me.”
Nicky was smooth alright, but he was more quiet than I initially though. He seemed more uncomfortable on the night that we went on a date than the day we met. The most I got out of him was when we were texting each other. I didn’t know if it was because he liked to be sure of what he was saying in English or if some of the initial attraction had worn off. Even so, he kept talking to me through text messages and had proposed another date before he left town, to happen when he was back in town. We were going to go cosmic bowling.
“Why are you insecure about what he thinks of you?” Rochelle wondered. “He’s not some random dude in your Calculus class. This is how you meet people in the world outside of college, Erin.”
Maybe my insecurity over how much Nicky liked me was related to liking him. I didn’t know him well enough to be falling for him, but I did like him a lot. I’d briefly dated or hung out with too many college guys who, at heart, weren’t very good guys. They were just fun. Hockey player or not, Nicky was genuinely a nice person. In being so reserved, he was a good listener. But he also said all the right things when he spoke. He did everything right. He was so right.
I was crazy about his smile and the curvature of his long nose. I liked it when he touched me; holding my hand or touching my elbow, my shoulder, my wrist. I’d never even thought about him beyond being a skilled, good-looking hockey player before we met. But now, after just two dates (according to my sister) I had a huge crush on him.
I shrugged before answering Rochelle. “You know, he didn’t even try to kiss me.”
On our official date, we’d gone to a photography exhibition at the Long View Gallery in the city. We strolled through the exhibition casually, our conversation mostly about what we found visually appealing. He’d alternated between holding my hand and draping an arm over my shoulder throughout the night, but he hadn’t come close to kissing me. Not when we were looking at a black and white portrait of the Eiffel Tower and not when he was dropping me off at the door of my sister’s house. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted him to kiss me on our first date, but I was surprised nonetheless that he didn’t.
“What is this, the 1950s? Maybe next time you should kiss him,” Rochelle suggested. “Let him know you want him to be your Swede.”
December 2, 2010 Capitals 1 @ Stars 2
December 4, 2010 Thrashers 3 @ Capitals 1
December 6, 2010 Leafs 5 @ Capitals 4 (SO)
December 9, 2010 Panthers 3 @ Capitals 0
December 11, 2010 Avalanche 3 @ Capitals 2
December 12, 2010 Capitals 0 @ Rangers 7
I had to hand it to Nicky for thinking out of the box for our dates. I would have expected simple dinner dates where we had to gut our brains trying to get to know each other better, but eventually had to resort to talking about the weather. A photo exhibition previously and now cosmic bowling gave us something to talk about besides ourselves. When we did talk about ourselves, it was easy. It was natural.
Just as he’d always been, Nicky was mostly quiet while we bowled. We took our turns hurtling glowing neon bowling balls towards the pins, talking mostly about our scores and sharing a basket of nachos. I imagined that as a hockey player, Nicky was probably competitive at any sort of sport he played. But unfortunately for us, neither of us was very good.
I watched him as he was winding up to take a shot at the pins with a hot pink ball. His blond hair was tucked under a backwards baseball cap, the Washington Nationals logo facing me. Nicky’s clothes were more tight than they were baggy – form fitting but not skin tight. His striped white t-shirt glowed purple under the alley’s black lights, showing off the muscle definition in his back. When he bent forward, throwing the ball, I caught a glimpse of his underwear—Calvin Klein—the waistband just above his jeans. With one leg back, slightly off the ground, I was awarded with a look of his hockey butt: perfectly rounded, toned, and tight from all the years skating up the ice with a stick in hand.
My gaze was back to his face and my lips in a smile by the time he turned around. He aimed well and had picked up a spare. Nicky pumped his fist and sat down next to me, our thighs touching. “Just needed to warm up, you know?”
I laughed. “Sure.”
Any time for warm-ups was well over. We were already in the last frame of our game. I pushed the nachos towards him as the score posted on the flat screen TV above our heads, in front of us. He was winning but was only two points ahead of me.
“I do better than this before, I swear. At the Caps fan party before I was on the winning team.” He ignored the nachos and leaned in closely to me, his hand touching my back. “Maybe you make me nervous or something.”
He was flirting with me and touching me again. I almost smirked at my victory. He looked a little different under the lighting of the darkened bowling alley. His hair tucked beneath his hat almost looked green, like a blond who’d spent too much time in a swimming pool with chlorine. His eyes were a more muted color, almost grey. His nose was the same though: straight and long, then pointed in beautiful fashion at the end. Nicky still hadn’t kissed me and I imagined what that nose would feel like, pressed against my cheek.
“Are you trying to impress me?” I asked.
Nicky shook his head. “I don’t like to lose.”
“Maybe we should make a wager on our game,” I suggested.
“What d’you have in mind?” he said curiously. “I’m not going streaking here in the bowling alley.”
“No public nudity,” I assured him, giggling and standing up to select a ball for my final shot. “It will just be something small. Like if I win…” I had to pause, racking my brain quickly, “you dance with me to the next song.”
I gestured at the empty space around me for emphasis. The bowling alley was playing late 90s radio hits to go along with cosmic bowling. The group of girls in the lane next to us had even broken into a chorus of Mariah Carey earlier in the night.
“And if I win?”
It took me a moment again as I thought. I hoped that Nicky would come up with something he wanted on his own. But it had been my idea, so he was leaving it to me.
“If you win,” I finally said, “I’ll buy you a Christmas present.”
Nicky crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Okay, I guess is fair.”
I picked up a yellow bowling ball that was glowing as bright as a highlighter. I stepped forward toward the lane then spun on my heel on the hardwood floor, facing Nicky again. “Wish me luck?”
“No,” he grinned. “I want the present.”
I huffed and turned back to the pins at the end of the lane. I wondered if he was checking me out the way that I had been him each time I took my turn. Here goes nothing. I rolled and watched the ball of fluorescent yellow roll down, not quite in a straight line. I didn’t have enough strength to throw it down the middle with confidence. I always picked a corner and hoped my understanding of angles and arcs would help me out.
The next thing I knew I had both my arms up in the air and a victory cheer escaped my throat. Every glowing pin was toppled over. I had thrown a strike. I pumped my fist and even bounced up and down on my feet a few times.
When I turned around, Nicky had risen to his feet, eyeing me. For a few seconds the only sound in the bowling alley was the thud of bowling balls hitting the floor and crashing into bowling pins as the music changed. I recognized the song that started as the duet by Brandy and Monica, The Boy is Mine. I was laughing as I closed the small distance between Nicky and me.
His arms were still crossed over his chest and the expression on his face was serious. “I’m not a good dancer.”
Instead of arguing I just followed my sister’s advice. I looked at him, blinking a couple of times, because he was so close, before I did it. I touched his cheek and brought his face closer to mine, then closed my eyes as I pressed my lips against his.
I think he was a little surprised. He took half a step back, uncrossing his arms, but not moving his face as he realized that I was kissing him. For a split second, his hands hovered at my elbows. But then there was no space between us, one of his hands securely on my hip and the other at the back of my neck as he kissed me.
When we pulled away I opened my eyes slowly, looking up at him. We’d broken the building tension between us with that kiss but he didn’t look as excited as I felt about it. A panic alarm went off in my gut. He held me against his chest but his eyes were focused, searching behind me. I craned my neck, following his gaze to the groups of people bowling in the lanes beside ours.
Of course. The kiss had been completely innocent, but even in the darkened bowling alley it had been very public, too. I realized he probably wasn’t comfortable showing public displays of affection for everyone to see. If anyone had recognized Nicky that night, they hadn’t said anything about it. But the Capitals were a popular team in DC, so Nicky was probably intent on keeping a low profile.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly.
He frowned at me, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “What?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” I said over the music, looking down at my rented bowling shoes, embarrassed. “I was only thinking about you and me. I forgot other people might…care.”
Nicky broke the frown on his face. He snickered. “I’m definitely not mad that you kissed me.”
I looked at him incredulously. “You looked worried though.”
“I…” he trailed off and brushed over my cheek with his thumb. “I wanted to be the one to kiss you first.”
My lips were halfway to a smile when he leaned down and kissed me again, right after he spoke. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he deepened the kiss, the bridge of his nose against my cheek. It was better than I imagined.
December 4, 2010 Thrashers 3 @ Capitals 1
December 6, 2010 Leafs 5 @ Capitals 4 (SO)
December 9, 2010 Panthers 3 @ Capitals 0
December 11, 2010 Avalanche 3 @ Capitals 2
“Do you think I could just get a jersey from your Swede?” Rochelle said to me. “You know, you getting together with him could be really beneficial for my wallet.”
“First of all, he isn’t my Swede,” I answered, “and second, I’m pretty sure the whole point of a Christmas gift is that you got it yourself.”
My sister shrugged, half-serious. “It’s the thought that counts.”
The two of us were doing our first round of Christmas shopping. It was a Sunday and fall semester finals at Georgetown were in the week ahead. With my light coursework of only four classes, I was only taking two finals on Tuesday and Wednesday, respectively. I’d already handed in a term paper and taken a multiple choice test on the last day of classes for my other two classes. My plan for the day at hand was to shop for a few hours with my sister and then study with a few friends at the campus library for a good chunk of the evening. Since Tanner was on a rotating work schedule, it was also one of his rare Sundays off, and he could watch Jaden while we shopped for the little boy.
I rolled my eyes. “I am not asking Nicky for merchandise freebies.”
I did see Nicky again after our meal on the day we met. He was serious when he said he wanted to see me again. Unlike other 23 year olds, who would probably play ‘the game’ and wait a day or two, he sent me a text before midnight on the same day. So I had Nicky B among the list of my contacts in my cellphone. The next time I saw him, he took me out on a date. We’d been talking to each other a lot since the day we met.
“Obviously I’m joking,” she replied. “But this year’s Christmas list is totally his fault!”
A week had passed since Nicky had been over to Jaden’s house and it was all the six-year-old could talk about. He loved the Washington Capitals and the team’s first line center was his hero of the month. For Christmas, Jaden decided that he wanted Caps gear and only Caps gear. He wanted an Ovechkin fathead for his room, he wanted a Caps red t-shirt, tickets to a Caps game, and a customized youth Bäckström jersey. To assure that Jaden’s eyes would light up on Christmas morning, Rochelle and I went to Ballston Common Mall. Attached to the mall was Kettler Capitals Iceplex and the team pro shop there.
“I’m sorry Nicky is so nice,” I smiled as we made our way towards Kettler.
“It’s just after 11,” Rochelle said, looking at her cellphone. “Are the Caps gonna be at practice?”
“They have a road game,” I told her. “They’re out of town. Aren’t you a Caps fan? Shouldn’t you know?”
She got a goofy grin on her face. “Look at you, all knowing his schedule and everything.”
“He told me before the team left.” I tried to play it cool, hoping she didn’t notice I was blushing. “They’re playing back-to-backs. Last night, they lost to the Avs at Verizon.”
Knowing that I had grown up a casual Colorado Avalanche fan, Nicky had offered to get me tickets for the previous night’s game. I said that I didn’t want to go because I would be torn between cheering for the Avs and cheering for him. Besides, the Caps left for Manhattan to face the New York Rangers right after the game. When I found out that the Avs won, leaving the Caps with a 5-game losing streak, I was glad that I hadn’t been at the Verizon Center. If I would have seen Nicky at all after the game, I wouldn’t have known what to say to him.
My sister, ever the enthusiast, answered, “Do you think your Swede will want to come to our Christmas party?”
“Chelle,” I whined, “he isn’t my Swede!”
“Why not!” she laughed at her own line. “You’ve already landed a third date, right? I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
“Second date,” I corrected. “I don’t think the day I met him counts.”
We rounded a corner and the pro shop was in front of us, a plethora of everything in the Capitals’ shade of red. We immediately walked towards the apparel and the jerseys section, in search of the youth sizes.
“Well, he asked you to go eat with him and he paid for it,” Rochelle reasoned. “I think it counts. You should be more excited.”
I picked up a Slapshot plush toy that was set next to two piles of Ovechkin shirseys. There was a third pile of shirseys, Bäckström 19s, next to The Great 8’s. It felt weird to be talking about him in a store that sold stuff with his name on it. Even weirder, I called him Nicky and had spent time with him even though I’d only known him for a week.
“I am excited,” I said. “But I don’t know if anything is really going to happen. I don’t know how much he likes me.”
Nicky was smooth alright, but he was more quiet than I initially though. He seemed more uncomfortable on the night that we went on a date than the day we met. The most I got out of him was when we were texting each other. I didn’t know if it was because he liked to be sure of what he was saying in English or if some of the initial attraction had worn off. Even so, he kept talking to me through text messages and had proposed another date before he left town, to happen when he was back in town. We were going to go cosmic bowling.
“Why are you insecure about what he thinks of you?” Rochelle wondered. “He’s not some random dude in your Calculus class. This is how you meet people in the world outside of college, Erin.”
Maybe my insecurity over how much Nicky liked me was related to liking him. I didn’t know him well enough to be falling for him, but I did like him a lot. I’d briefly dated or hung out with too many college guys who, at heart, weren’t very good guys. They were just fun. Hockey player or not, Nicky was genuinely a nice person. In being so reserved, he was a good listener. But he also said all the right things when he spoke. He did everything right. He was so right.
I was crazy about his smile and the curvature of his long nose. I liked it when he touched me; holding my hand or touching my elbow, my shoulder, my wrist. I’d never even thought about him beyond being a skilled, good-looking hockey player before we met. But now, after just two dates (according to my sister) I had a huge crush on him.
I shrugged before answering Rochelle. “You know, he didn’t even try to kiss me.”
On our official date, we’d gone to a photography exhibition at the Long View Gallery in the city. We strolled through the exhibition casually, our conversation mostly about what we found visually appealing. He’d alternated between holding my hand and draping an arm over my shoulder throughout the night, but he hadn’t come close to kissing me. Not when we were looking at a black and white portrait of the Eiffel Tower and not when he was dropping me off at the door of my sister’s house. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted him to kiss me on our first date, but I was surprised nonetheless that he didn’t.
“What is this, the 1950s? Maybe next time you should kiss him,” Rochelle suggested. “Let him know you want him to be your Swede.”
December 2, 2010 Capitals 1 @ Stars 2
December 4, 2010 Thrashers 3 @ Capitals 1
December 6, 2010 Leafs 5 @ Capitals 4 (SO)
December 9, 2010 Panthers 3 @ Capitals 0
December 11, 2010 Avalanche 3 @ Capitals 2
December 12, 2010 Capitals 0 @ Rangers 7
I had to hand it to Nicky for thinking out of the box for our dates. I would have expected simple dinner dates where we had to gut our brains trying to get to know each other better, but eventually had to resort to talking about the weather. A photo exhibition previously and now cosmic bowling gave us something to talk about besides ourselves. When we did talk about ourselves, it was easy. It was natural.
Just as he’d always been, Nicky was mostly quiet while we bowled. We took our turns hurtling glowing neon bowling balls towards the pins, talking mostly about our scores and sharing a basket of nachos. I imagined that as a hockey player, Nicky was probably competitive at any sort of sport he played. But unfortunately for us, neither of us was very good.
I watched him as he was winding up to take a shot at the pins with a hot pink ball. His blond hair was tucked under a backwards baseball cap, the Washington Nationals logo facing me. Nicky’s clothes were more tight than they were baggy – form fitting but not skin tight. His striped white t-shirt glowed purple under the alley’s black lights, showing off the muscle definition in his back. When he bent forward, throwing the ball, I caught a glimpse of his underwear—Calvin Klein—the waistband just above his jeans. With one leg back, slightly off the ground, I was awarded with a look of his hockey butt: perfectly rounded, toned, and tight from all the years skating up the ice with a stick in hand.
My gaze was back to his face and my lips in a smile by the time he turned around. He aimed well and had picked up a spare. Nicky pumped his fist and sat down next to me, our thighs touching. “Just needed to warm up, you know?”
I laughed. “Sure.”
Any time for warm-ups was well over. We were already in the last frame of our game. I pushed the nachos towards him as the score posted on the flat screen TV above our heads, in front of us. He was winning but was only two points ahead of me.
“I do better than this before, I swear. At the Caps fan party before I was on the winning team.” He ignored the nachos and leaned in closely to me, his hand touching my back. “Maybe you make me nervous or something.”
He was flirting with me and touching me again. I almost smirked at my victory. He looked a little different under the lighting of the darkened bowling alley. His hair tucked beneath his hat almost looked green, like a blond who’d spent too much time in a swimming pool with chlorine. His eyes were a more muted color, almost grey. His nose was the same though: straight and long, then pointed in beautiful fashion at the end. Nicky still hadn’t kissed me and I imagined what that nose would feel like, pressed against my cheek.
“Are you trying to impress me?” I asked.
Nicky shook his head. “I don’t like to lose.”
“Maybe we should make a wager on our game,” I suggested.
“What d’you have in mind?” he said curiously. “I’m not going streaking here in the bowling alley.”
“No public nudity,” I assured him, giggling and standing up to select a ball for my final shot. “It will just be something small. Like if I win…” I had to pause, racking my brain quickly, “you dance with me to the next song.”
I gestured at the empty space around me for emphasis. The bowling alley was playing late 90s radio hits to go along with cosmic bowling. The group of girls in the lane next to us had even broken into a chorus of Mariah Carey earlier in the night.
“And if I win?”
It took me a moment again as I thought. I hoped that Nicky would come up with something he wanted on his own. But it had been my idea, so he was leaving it to me.
“If you win,” I finally said, “I’ll buy you a Christmas present.”
Nicky crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Okay, I guess is fair.”
I picked up a yellow bowling ball that was glowing as bright as a highlighter. I stepped forward toward the lane then spun on my heel on the hardwood floor, facing Nicky again. “Wish me luck?”
“No,” he grinned. “I want the present.”
I huffed and turned back to the pins at the end of the lane. I wondered if he was checking me out the way that I had been him each time I took my turn. Here goes nothing. I rolled and watched the ball of fluorescent yellow roll down, not quite in a straight line. I didn’t have enough strength to throw it down the middle with confidence. I always picked a corner and hoped my understanding of angles and arcs would help me out.
The next thing I knew I had both my arms up in the air and a victory cheer escaped my throat. Every glowing pin was toppled over. I had thrown a strike. I pumped my fist and even bounced up and down on my feet a few times.
When I turned around, Nicky had risen to his feet, eyeing me. For a few seconds the only sound in the bowling alley was the thud of bowling balls hitting the floor and crashing into bowling pins as the music changed. I recognized the song that started as the duet by Brandy and Monica, The Boy is Mine. I was laughing as I closed the small distance between Nicky and me.
His arms were still crossed over his chest and the expression on his face was serious. “I’m not a good dancer.”
Instead of arguing I just followed my sister’s advice. I looked at him, blinking a couple of times, because he was so close, before I did it. I touched his cheek and brought his face closer to mine, then closed my eyes as I pressed my lips against his.
I think he was a little surprised. He took half a step back, uncrossing his arms, but not moving his face as he realized that I was kissing him. For a split second, his hands hovered at my elbows. But then there was no space between us, one of his hands securely on my hip and the other at the back of my neck as he kissed me.
When we pulled away I opened my eyes slowly, looking up at him. We’d broken the building tension between us with that kiss but he didn’t look as excited as I felt about it. A panic alarm went off in my gut. He held me against his chest but his eyes were focused, searching behind me. I craned my neck, following his gaze to the groups of people bowling in the lanes beside ours.
Of course. The kiss had been completely innocent, but even in the darkened bowling alley it had been very public, too. I realized he probably wasn’t comfortable showing public displays of affection for everyone to see. If anyone had recognized Nicky that night, they hadn’t said anything about it. But the Capitals were a popular team in DC, so Nicky was probably intent on keeping a low profile.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly.
He frowned at me, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “What?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” I said over the music, looking down at my rented bowling shoes, embarrassed. “I was only thinking about you and me. I forgot other people might…care.”
Nicky broke the frown on his face. He snickered. “I’m definitely not mad that you kissed me.”
I looked at him incredulously. “You looked worried though.”
“I…” he trailed off and brushed over my cheek with his thumb. “I wanted to be the one to kiss you first.”
My lips were halfway to a smile when he leaned down and kissed me again, right after he spoke. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he deepened the kiss, the bridge of his nose against my cheek. It was better than I imagined.
Great story!
11/16/18