Chapter Six

I pulled up to the Igloo at 6:58. ‘Two minutes to spare,’ I thought to myself, ‘damn I’m good.’ I got out of the car and approached the area where the players make their entrance. I was happy that Geno was there to greet me.

“Hello,” he said, smiling at me.

“Hey,” I replied, hugging him. His cologne smelled heavenly. He led me through the doors and into the building. I followed him all the way down the hall until we reached the area that served as the player’s lounge.

“Take seat,” he said to me and I did so. I pulled the skates out of my bag and proceeded an attempt to tie them myself. He laughed at me, then leaned over to do it himself. I watched him tie my skates and he looked so cute. His dark hair was a little too long at the back, but adorably so. His hands were also a bonus. So immense. It was ridiculous. After tying mine, he leaned down to do his own. I waited patiently for him and when he was done, he rose and I rose with him. He led me out into the arena. He opened the door and stepped out onto the ice. I started to follow but he stopped me.

“You watch first okay?” he asked me.

“Okay,” I laughed and he proceeded to skate about for a few minutes. I tried to pay attention to what his feet were doing, but I couldn’t. He was just too cute. Watching him skate was enough for me. I could have watched him the whole date. However, it was my turn.

“Come on,” he said. “Now you try.” I stepped onto the ice and immediately lost my balance. However, he was quick. He reached out and grabbed my hand before I had a chance to fall. I thanked him and we proceeded. He showed me the movements with his feet and I mimicked them. Eventually, I was able to do it without holding his hand and I realized that I was skating.

“Good job!” he said, hugging me. We stayed like that for a moment, until he broke away and continued skating. I caught up to him and held his hand. We skated like that for over an hour, just talking (as simply as I could) about him, Russia, hockey, me, America, Pittsburgh and stuff like that. Only when they were basically kicking us out did we finally leave. As we stepped back off the ice, we stood for a moment at the entryway. We were both looking out over the arena. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was thinking about the wonderful time I had. I looked down and noticed that we were still holding hands. He must have seen me look down because he quickly pulled his hand away.

“No, it’s okay,” I said to him as I reached for his hand. He smiled and gave it willingly. I turned to face him, looking up into his eyes.

“I like you,” he said to me.

“I like you too,” I answered. Then he leaned down and kissed me. It was different than when Ryan kissed me. Ryan’s was almost expectant and knowing. While Geno’s was curious and tentative. We kissed for a while before finally breaking apart. He led me back to the “lounge” and we removed our skates. After that, he walked me back out to my car.

“You want to eat?” he asked me. I saw in his face that he was hoping for a yes. I was more than willing to give him one.

“Yes!” I answered enthusiastically.

“Okay, you follow me,” he said. He got into his car and I followed him turn for turn until we reached a little restaurant on a quiet street. When we walked inside, the place was nearly empty except for one couple eating in a far corner. For the most part, we had the place to ourselves. A man came out from the kitchen and walked over to us. He began speaking fluent Russian to Geno and I figured that that must be the reason he loved this place.

“Hello,” he said to me, having finished his conversation with Geno. “I hope this table is okay.” His Russian accent wasn’t as thick as I thought it would have been.

“Oh, this is fine,” I smiled at him. He pulled my chair out for me and brought us two menus. Russian on the top and the English translations underneath.

“I’ll be back in a moment to take your drink orders,” he left us sitting alone. Dinner wasn’t as awkward as I would have first thought. We managed to understand each other surprisingly well through all three courses of the meal. When we got up to leave, I thanked the man who had been so nice to us and left the restaurant while Geno stayed behind for a moment to have a few more words with him. When he finally emerged, he grabbed my hand and led me to the parking lot.

“I had fun,” I said to him.

“I had good time too,” he replied. He kissed me again sweetly. “You mine?” I understood his meaning and decided that being his girlfriend might not be so bad.

“I’m yours,” I said kissing him again. He opened my car door for me and with one more goodnight kiss, disappeared into his own vehicle. I rested my head momentarily on the seat back, feeling quite content. Geno was so cute and he did make me happy, so we’ll see how it works. I threw the car in reverse, backed out of the lot, and was on my way home.

When I pulled up to my house, I noticed that the light from the living room was on. I suspected that Ryan, lazy as he was, forgot to turn it off. I parked the car and made my way to the door. I almost jumped three feet in the air when I saw that Ryan was sitting in my armchair.

“You’re back late,” he said nonchalantly as if I should have been expecting him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Oh, well I was waiting to hear all about your little ‘date’,” he said with a mocking tone.

“I really don’t think that’s any of your concern,” I said throwing my Northface on the back of the couch.

“But I’m dying to know,” he pretended to plead, getting up and walking over to me. “How was my girl’s date with another man?”

“Whoa, okay one, I’m not your girl and two, like I said none of your business,” I walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

“Just give me a little something,” he pleaded. I couldn’t tell if his mocking continued or if he was being serious.

“Well, we’re a couple now,” I started, “and I’m only telling you this so you’re not surprised tomorrow.” He stared at me disbelieving.

“I thought it was only a date,” he said more to himself than to me.

“Well, I really like him and he likes me,” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“I see,” he said. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost one in the morning.

“Don’t you have a wife to get home to?” I asked him.

“At least I have someone to go home to,” he retorted. The words stung and hurt me.

“Get out.” I said, staring at him. I meant it and he could tell. He made a motion as if he was going to apologize, but thought better of it and left. He closed the door gently and it angered me that he didn’t slam it. I wanted him to be mad and the fact that he wasn’t, or at least didn’t appear to be, only made me more angry at him. I cursed his name all the way up the stairs. I hated him right now. When I got to my room, it seemed like it took me a lifetime to undress, but finally I was in my shorts and Ovechkin shirt (my guilty pleasure) and off to sleep.