Friday, October 28, 2011

one

“Uh, hi Tori!”  I cringed internally, knowing that sounded too excited.  Like a puppy that’s been home alone all day waiting for someone to come home and pet it.

“Hey Jeff, how are ya?”

She changed her course across the locker room and came right over, like always.  That had not changed over the summer.  Tori was still the friendliest person around this place.

“I’m good.  You?  You look nice.”  Another mental facepalm.  

Be specific, Eric had told me.  Compliment a girls’ hair or her clothes.  It sounds like you’re paying attention.

“I like your sweater,” I mumbled.

“Thanks,” she looked down at her black pants and gray sweater, so I did too.  They fit her really, really well and my eyes got a little hung up on her legs.  Just for a second.  But when I looked up she was watching me, and I blushed.  Like always.

Tori was so easy to talk to.  She was an intern in the Hurricanes PR department, back for her second year.  It was as long as I’d been with the team.  Last season the guys always teased me about hooking up with her, but there was way too much going on.  Too many girls in the stands with signs asking me to the prom.  If Tori had asked, I would have said yes.  Of course, she was in college already - ooh, an older woman.  With her shoulder-length dark blond hair that she was always touching, she looked younger.  Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

“How was practice?”  She took a seat on the bench to my left, in front of Staal’s locker.  I had stayed late for a photo shoot - they wanted sweaty and they got it.  I was still sweating, in my Under Armor long sleeves with my hockey shorts on.

“Good, I uh... got an endorsement deal.  With Reebok.  They were taking pictures.”

“Wow!  That’s awesome!” Her face lit up with a big smile and she smacked my leg.  “You’re so big time now.”

“Ha ha,” I said sarcastically.  Rookie of the Year felt pretty freaking awesome, but that was over now.  The All-Star hoopla and everything had passed, it was time to get down to business.  At least with hockey.  There was no other business going on with me.  And if Tori and I hadn’t gotten together when I was on a first-season tear last year... well, I figured I’d missed my chance.  I usually did.

There was a pause when I didn’t know what else to say, just lost in her dark eyes.  After a second, Tori jumped to her feet.  “I’m sorry!  You need to change.  I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.  See ya.”

Her long, thin fingers squeezed my bicep, sweat and all.  “And really, congratulations.”

When the door closed behind her, I sighed.  I could barely even talk to a girl who was already my friend.  My very pretty friend, of course.  And this was just her workplace, while it was my whole life.  If I couldn’t talk to Tori, how was I ever going to ask someone out?

Knock.

“Still here?” Tori popped her head around the door, one hand over her eyes.  “Are you dressed?”

“Uh, yeah.”  But I was shirtless, holding a soaked gray spandex top in one hand.

“I was...,” she stopped short, not expecting me to be stripped to the waist.  Her eyes rolled right down my newly bulked-up chest to my someday-maybe-defined-but-at-least-flat stomach and over my considerably larger arms.  Surprise flashed across her face.

Shelookedyesssssssshelooked!

“Er, I... I’m going to see the Legwarmers with some friends tonight.  They’re an 80’s cover band.  It’s eighteen-and-over, would you want to come?” she asked all at once.

“Yes,” I spit out the answer without even breathing first.  I may not be good at girls, but I could dance.  Beads of sweat dropped from my shirt, slapped at the floor; the only other sound.

“Okay.  Um, do you... give me your number.”  Tori gave up her post at the door,but her steps were slow like she didn’t want to get too close to me when I was half-dressed.

You just gotta try sometime.  That was always Eric’s advice.  I met her halfway, then backed up one step.

“Sorry, I probably stink.”

Tori blushed.  I made her blush.  Dear God please let me remember my phone number.

She punched in the digits I recited, then called me.  A faint ring came from inside my locker.

“Got it.  Text me your address and I’ll pick you up.  We might eat first.”

“Whatever you want, that’s cool,” I tried not to babble.  Tori smiled and headed back to the door.  I hurried toward my stuff - I was going to need at least two hours to calm down before I saw her later.

I’m seeing her later.

“Jeff,” she said.  I spun on a skate.

Click. A camera shutter.

She lowered the phone from in front of her face, smiling wickedly.  “Now I’ve got it.”
____

Not a date. Not a date.

Is this how girls feel?

I was standing in front of my closet, thinking it would be more successful to burn the thing down than try to find something to wear.  I didn’t want to be overdressed like a dork going out with the cool kids.  A dark pair of nice jeans had already been selected.  But for the top - t-shirt? Button-down? Collar?  

God I’m awkward.

After twenty minutes and about as many options, I settled on a dark blue vintage-looking t-shirt with the University of Toronto logo on the front.  I’d done a sports came there once.  A little bit of hair gel, my wallet, phone and keys... I looked it the mirror, it was alright.  Then I smiled and was immediately twelve years old again.

Sink, said my heart.

My pocket buzzed, I jumped liked I’d been electrocuted.  So much for my calm.  Two minutes later, I was climbing into the front seat of Tori’s green Kia.  She introduced her friend in the backseat as Shana and we were off.

“We were thinking about Bella’s for dinner.  Pizza?” Tori asked.

“Sounds great.”

The place was big with low ceilings and red and white checked tablecloths.  I assumed the girls would share a bench, but Tori slid right in next to me in her skinny jeans, flat shoes and sparkly silver top.  Apparently more people were coming.  We ordered a cheese pie, two beers and an ice tea.

Way to go, babyface.

But once the pizza arrived, everything was equal again.  We devoured it, the girls telling stories.  Tori made me spill a few team secrets - she didn’t have to try very hard.  If she ever gave them up I’d be doing suicides for the rest of the season.  But I wanted to be the guy who made her laugh.

Their friends arrived - two girls and two guys.  The guys were Tori’s age, both knew me instantly and I felt self-conscious.  My ice tea, my college t-shirt when I’d clearly never gone to college.  They were both taller than me too.

“I thought they were going to fangirl out,” Tori whispered when the rest of the table was being especially loud.  Her voice was very low and she leaned in so close her chest pressed against my arm; I flexed without meaning to.  She breathed right down my neck.  “They think you are a superhero.”  Then she smiled, sitting up.  “They’re right, of course.”

Her words settled me and the table finished off a second pizza.  Everyone chipped in cash to pay - it was just like being out with my friends at home.  Then we piled into cars for a short ride the venue.  Tori stood next to me in line, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  When we got to the door, she handed me a ticket.

“Oh, let me pay for those.”

“Nope.  My treat!” she said brightly.  The band was just coming on.  A bouncer took my ID, frowned at the age and gave me a huge black X on one hand.  

Cool, man.  Just great.

Tori stuck her hand out to him.  “Me too.”

“You don’t have to,” I protested.  

She gave me a sly look.  “Can’t have me getting drunk and taking advantage of you, Jeff.”

Yes, yes we can.
____

It was a live music theater with a sunken dance floor usually for general admission concerts. The place was already filling up when we checked our coats and headed to the bar.  Shana grabbed Tori’s hand and lifted it, X blazing, as if to ask ‘what the hell?’  Tori just shrugged.  Everyone else joined the mass jostling for beer and cocktails.  We couldn’t understand what the lead singer was saying into the mic, but it was perfectly clear when ‘Footloose’ started to play.

“AGH!” Tori grabbed my arm - that hand on my bicep again - and charged off in the direction of the dance floor.

We snaked through the dancing people right into the middle, her head already bobbing to the beat.  Then she just started dancing, with me, just the two of us.  We weren’t touching, but we were together.  Her hips rolled and dropped, feet moving perfectly to the beat.  In the twirling colored lights, her silver top sparkled like diamonds.  I could have watched her all night.  So I started dancing too.  

“You’re good!” she said, leaning in.

“Why are you surprised?!” I pretended to be hurt.  “I used to figure skate to this song.”

To demonstrate my skill, I did a little kick move that resembled something they might have done in the movie.  She clapped and whooped and touched my arm again.  So I went for it.  My hand slid around her waist, pulled her in, and I started a very quick two-step.  Tori quickly adjusted to follow my lead and I wheeled her around.  She seemed so small in my arms.  Her hand slid into mine and the other rested just where the sleeve ran out.  My skin prickled where it met her palm.  Her hair flew out behind her as I spun.  When we stopped, the momentum carried her firmly into my chest.

“Wooh!” she cheered, bouncing against me.  “You are good!”

But the song was over, her friends were arriving. The next song and the ten after that weren’t much for couples, so we danced with the group.  I had never really been clubbing before, going out just to dance.  I liked it.  Finally she started fanning herself and everyone needed a refill.

“Having fun?” Tori asked while the rest of them waded toward the bar.  She leaned an elbow on the bar table next to us, littered with empty plastic cups and napkins.  

“Yes, lots.  Thank you, Tori.”

She tilted her head.  “Anytime.  Sorry I never asked you last year, I didn’t know if it was okay with work.  But they called me to come back this season, they said ‘you get along so well with the players, you’re the best candidate.’  I guess that means we can hang out.”

Can we date?

I didn’t say that.  I didn’t know how to date, not to mention someone like Tori.  She obviously had a lot of friends and fun, she didn’t need me.  Plus I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Maybe just make out a little?

“I missed you this summer,” she added.

Summer had been long.  And fun, especially hanging out with guys from home like Stamkos and Neal who play for other teams.  I felt equal to them, or at least closer, and when we talked shop I had something to contribute.  After all, neither of them had won the Calder Trophy.  Not even Steven.

But they were older than me, and it never seemed like more of a gap than when we went out to bars.  I’d been legal to drink in Canada since May, but that didn’t make you good with girls.  Canadian girls knew hockey, maybe too well, and more than a few threw themselves at me.  It would have been easy to just take one... well, somewhere.  Not home.  I lived with my parents for Christ’s sake.  Luckily neither Steven or James was really that kind of guy.  My awkwardness outweighed temptation and I never did much more than feel a girl up at a house party.  It was getting kind of old.

I was nineteen.  I had a career and a trophy and a sweater with my name on the back.  And I still had my virginity.  Coming back to Raleigh and back into the spotlight felt like I was starring in another sequel to American Pie.

“I missed you too,” I told Tori.  “And we should hang out.”

And we should have sex, because you’re hot and fantastic and I’m really, really horny.  And I don’t think you’ll laugh at me.
____

4 comments:

  1. I can't believe I'm reading this, let alone liking it. But it's about time someone took on Mr. Adorkable himself and wrote him in a story!

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  2. Thank you so much for writing a Skinner story! I already can't wait for chapter two!!

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  3. I am so glad someone finally wrote a Jeff Skinner story :) Can't wait for more!

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  4. AWWWWWW!!! He's so damned cute I just want to pinch his cheeks!

    So far... awesome!

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