Romance Reflections on Ice

He grinned and shrugged. "Fine, I don't bite my nails." He wandered into the kitchen and Cassia heard him banging things around as he presumably made something to eat.

Turning back to the screen, Cassia watched as Dylan skated on for a shift. She eyed the big, white number sixteen on his back and let out a breath as he took his position near the blue dot on the ice.

Kyle plunked down on the couch beside her, sandwich in hand. "Is this at least a Dallas game you're watching?"

"Yes. Shut up."

"Touchy, touchy. Are they losing?"

The puck dropped and Cassia watched the players scrabble for it before the black dot shot out to one side, where it was scooped up by a Dallas player. The players moved off after it, scrambling through the neutral zone and into the Hurricanes end, then the whistle blew.

"Why are they stopped?"

"Stars were offside."

Kyle took a big bite of his sandwich. "Didn't look offside."

Cassia shot him a dirty look. She hated listening to him talk while chewing and he knew it. "This isn't football, OK? Offside is different."

Kyle shrugged and resumed devouring his sandwich.

When the horn sounded, signaling the end of the second period, Cassia sat back on the couch, satisfied with how the team was doing. She'd always been a fan of hockey, and the Stars, but something about watching Dylan now, and knowing him on a personal level, gave the games a new sense of urgency. She was more invested, which was ridiculous, because they were just friends.

"Why do you watch hockey?"

Cassia glanced at her brother as he picked up the remote and started to browse for something else during intermission. "I like it. And it always makes me think of the nights Mom and I would watch games when you guys were off doing whatever during football season."

"Does Mom even still watch?"

Cassia shrugged. "I don't know. Can't remember the last time we watched one together." The thought made her feel bad, like she was neglecting her mother. They'd always been close, but after the episode with Alex, she'd been in no mood to speak to her mother, or anyone in the family, aside from Kyle.

When Kyle couldn't find anything interesting to watch, he let the screen go back to the intermission talk of the hockey game, where the reporter was standing with a player outside the locker room.

Cassia's heart jumped when she recognized Dylan, red-faced and sweaty, shoulders still heaving with exertion. Of course they'd talk to him. He'd scored the only goal in the second period, doubly impressive as he was a defenseman. Beside her, Kyle squinted and pointed a finger.

"That guy looks familiar."

On screen, the short interview wrapped up, and the reporter turned to the camera. "That was Dylan Samuels, with two points in the game. Back to you, Gord."

Kyle turned to Cassia. "Wasn't that guy who brought you home the other night named Dylan?"

Cassia rolled her eyes, even as embarrassment prickled over her skin. "He didn't bring me home."

"But that was him?" He pointed at the TV again. "Dylan Samuels?"

Cassia couldn't think of a response or lie fast enough, and Kyle gaped at her.

"Are you seriously dating him? Another pro athlete?"

"We're not dating." Which wasn't exactly true, not anymore.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Please don't tell me you're just hooking up with him?"

"Kyle, we're home alone together here every night. When would I be dating or hooking up with anyone?"

"You managed fine that night when I saw you two making out in the hallway."

"We were not making out."

Kyle's expression was incredulous.

"We weren't." Cassia jumped to her feet at Kyle's continued knowing look. She stalked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She didn't want anything, she just needed to do something since she'd stormed out of the living room. She pulled a bottle of juice out and closed the door. When she straightened, her brother stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "What?"

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to get involved with someone like that again."

Cassia knew her brother's concern was coming from his heart, since he'd seen how hurt she'd been the year before when Alex had cheated. "Dylan is nothing like Alex."

"I'm sure you thought Alex was nothing like Alex in the beginning."

She nodded. "I guess. But in Dylan's case, it's true. He's not a womanizing creep and he's definitely not the type to cheat." She had no way of knowing for sure, but every interaction she'd had, and the way he was so awkward with women, told her that he wasn't that type of guy.

"How long have you known him?"

"A few weeks."

"And you think that's long enough to know for sure?"

Cassia sighed and moved past her brother to the cupboard. She pulled down a cup, offered him one and he shook his head. She poured her juice, put the bottle away and walked out to the living room. All the while, Kyle watched her, as if expecting her to break apart at any moment.

"Look, Kyle, you need to give it a rest." Cassia looked up as her brother hovered instead of sitting next to her. "Dylan is not an asshole like Alex, I promise."

"If you say so." He turned and walked away, heading for his room.

"I love you too!" she called after him.

"Shut up!" was the response right before his door slammed.

Smiling, Cassia sipped her juice and settled back to watch the end of the game.

On the plane, somewhere over Arkansas on the their way to Nashville, Dylan couldn't focus on the book in his hand. He looked at the front cover, not sure why he'd packed such a dry history of the Ottoman Empire. Sighing, he shoved it in the back seat pocket before him and turned his face to the window. It was dark outside, the only light coming from the periodic blink at the end of the plane's wing.

He wondered if Cassia had watched the game earlier. He hoped so. It had been a win, something that wasn't easy to come by for the team this year. He'd wanted to call Cassia almost the minute he'd walked away from her apartment the night before. Then he'd wanted to call after the game ended, but there'd been no time before the team had to be at the airport.

Stop it, Sams. He shook his head and looked away from the window. He was acting like a lovesick teenager, not a pretend boyfriend.

He pulled out his boring history book and flipped it open again. Somehow, he managed to get through a chapter before feeling the plane beginning to descend. The team continued on to their hotel in Nashville, and suffered through a humiliating third period breakdown the next night against the Predators.

In between the travel to their next game in Winnipeg, and practice the morning before the game, Dylan didn't summon the courage to call Cassia until the morning after the loss in Winnipeg.

As he pulled his phone out and searched for her name, he paced through his room, heading towards the window and back again. He looked at the clock on the bedside table and frowned, wondering if she'd be working or not, and wondering about the time difference. He was about to hang up after a few rings, when she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Cassia. It's Dylan."

There was a moment's hesitation before she spoke again. "Hi. What a surprise."

He smiled, sitting down at the desk. "I told you I'd call."

"Yeah, you did. Hold on one minute?"

"Sure."

There was a rustling sound, as if she'd put her phone in her pocket. He heard muffled voices, something metallic clanging and then more rustling before Cassia returned.

"Hi, sorry. I just needed to come outside."

"Where are you?"

"At work, at the garage."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Should I let you go?"

"No, it's fine. I was due for a break anyway."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble."

She laughed. "It's fine. My dad won't fire me."

"Oh, your dad runs the garage?"

"Yeah, haven't I ever told you that?"

"I guess not." Dylan ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward, resting one elbow on the desktop. "That's why I wanted to call."

"To ask about my dad?"

Dylan laughed. "No. Well, maybe."

"I don't understand."

He took a deep breath. "So we're supposed to be dating, right?"

"Yeah."

"And we've talked a few times, but I don't really know anything about you, except that you're a mechanic, you have a friend getting married, and you can't hold your liquor."

She laughed, a sound that made Dylan smile. "Man, I'm so boring."

"You're really not, but I don't know anything else about you."

"All I know about you is that you play hockey and can't talk to women."

"Right." Dylan stood up and started pacing again. He couldn't believe he was talking to her at all sometimes. In person, on the phone, it was all very new to him. "So I thought we should get some basic facts straight."

"You're right. That's a great idea."

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

She laughed again. "I'm not, I promise."

Dylan smiled and leaned on the window frame, staring down at the street below. "Should I start?"

"Start what?"

"Well, tell me your whole name."

She hesitated. "Uh. It's Cassia Laurel Morgan."

"Laurel?"

"It's a family name." She sighed. All in all, not the most embarrassing thing about herself. "What's yours?"

"You know my name."

"All of it, Sams."

He groaned. "Dylan Theodore Samuels."

"Oh, right. That's where Teddy came from."

"Yeah, but let's not tell anyone about all that."

She laughed. "Deal."

"How old are you?"

"You can't just ask a woman that question."

He smiled at her playful tone. "Fine, when's your birthday?"

"March."

"March what?"

There was a heavy sigh and the distant sound of a horn in the background. "The first."

"OK." He filed that information away, counting the days. It was only two weeks away. "Mine's December twelfth."

"Duly noted."

Dylan paused, looking down for a second. He wondered if they'd still be friends in ten months, when his birthday rolled around. Shoving the thought away, he started to pace again. "What's your favorite color?"

"Really? Are these really the things we need to know about each other?"

"Yes. It's typical first date discussion, isn't it?"

"How would you know? Been on many first dates lately?"

"Well, there was this night at Tapley's that felt like thirty first dates crammed into three hours."

"Oh God, let's never bring up that night again."

He chuckled. "Deal." A pause. "So, color?"

"Oh, I don't know." He heard what sounded like the crunch of feet on gravel and pictured her walking around. "Copper, I guess."

"Copper?"

"Yeah. A nice copper mica, that shines almost red in some light, or burnt orange other times."

He laughed. He should have known a mechanic would give him that kind of color. "All right. What about your favorite food?"

"Like, what kind? Or something more specific?"

He shrugged, his pace slowing as he circled his room. "Whatever."

"Tough one... there are so many things to choose from." She blew out a breath. "I suppose, if I had to pick, I'd go with good ol' southern cooking, like my mom does. But I love pie most of all."

He laughed. "Of course you do. And what are the names of all your brothers? And your mom and dad."

"My brother that's staying with me, that's Kyle, but you met him."

Dylan remembered little about Kyle. His memories of that night were mostly of the way Cassia had pulled him close and the way her eyes had bored into his.

"My older brothers are twins, Kurt and Kent. My dad is Keith, and my mom is Katherine."

"Where did you go to college?"

She hesitated. "I never went to college."

"Oh."

"I mean, I took some classes at the community college here, just to get certified, but I've been working on cars with my dad and brothers all my life."

"That makes sense. Do you like it?"

She hesitated. "It's... all I've known."

"What would you do if you weren't a mechanic?"

"You mean, if I had gone to college?"

Dylan shrugged, stopping at the window again. "Not necessarily. I went to college and didn't become a history professor."

"That's what your major was?"

"I had a double major." Dylan felt his ears heating up, hoping he didn't sound like he was bragging. "History and English literature."

"Wow."

Dylan cleared his throat and then Cassia let out a laugh.

"No wonder you can't talk to women."

"What?"

She laughed harder at his tone. "You spent all your time in college, reading, studying and writing essays, I bet. No time for women. Man, probably barely time for hockey. How did you manage?"

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable talking about himself. "I don't know, I just did."

"Why did you even go to college? When you were drafted, it was in the second round, right? You could have started playing hockey way earlier, if you'd wanted."

It was a familiar question, one he'd heard many times over the years. "My mom insisted I go to college. She said that hockey was all well and good, but I could be injured or get traded out without warning, and that I'd need something other than 'played a game' on my resume if that happened."

"Your mom sounds like a smart lady."

"She is." Dylan turned his back to the window and leaned his backside on the ledge. "She teaches English at a local high school back home."

"Ah, and she's why you love to read, which explains the literature thing."

"Yeah."

"I like it. A hockey player and a scholar."

Dylan felt warm again, but for a whole new reason. After a long moment, he shook his head to rise himself of the thoughts that had sprung to the forefront of his mind at her words. "So, what do you do in your spare time?"

"Oh, not much. I'm pretty boring. I watch movies, listen to music, go out with my friends. The usual."

"What kinds of movies?"

"All kinds. Action, horror, romance."

"We'll go see something when I get back."

She didn't respond.

"Cassia?"

"You don't need to do that."

"Do what?"

She made a sound and there was more of that crunching gravel sound, like she was walking again. In the distance, he thought he heard someone call her name. "I have to go."

"All right." Dylan straightened. "It was nice getting to know you, Cassia."

She let out a short laugh. "You too, Sams."

"I'll call you later."

"You will?"

He smiled at her incredulous tone. "It's what a boyfriend would do."

"Even a pretend one?"

His smile faded. "Yeah."

A pause. "OK. I'll talk to you later."

They ended the call and Dylan rubbed his thumb over the screen on his phone for a few seconds. Well, that had gone as well as he could have hoped. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to know more.

Tossing his phone on the bed, he walked into the bathroom to clean up before the team meeting.

Cassia eyed her phone for a long minute after their call ended. When her brother, Kent, called her name, she shoved it in her pocket and turned around.

"What?"

"You done messing around?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was on a break, dumbass. Can you not handle one engine without me for ten minutes?"

"Whatever." Kent turned back to the garage, waving a hand over his shoulder. "James needs a hand on that Chevy."

"On it." Cassia walked over the Chevy half-ton, up on the lift, and asked James what he needed.

The next four hours flew by. It was the busiest the shop had been in a long time. Cassia was grateful for the busy work. It kept her mind off Dylan and that mystifying call. She didn't know why she was so amazed that he'd called. He'd said he'd call, and he was a nice guy, not the kind to leave her hanging for no reason. Maybe she was a little thrown by the fact that Dylan was turning out to be a far different man than she'd expected, with his two degrees and all. She had never felt that she wasn't good enough for a man before, if that was what she was even feeling right now.

She stayed in the office for an hour after they'd closed, helping her dad finish the tickets for the day and organizing the next day's work.

"All right, that's enough for tonight." Keith pushed away from his desk and stood up.

Cassia looked over from her corner and set down the stack of receipts she'd been organizing. She rose to her feet, stifling a groan at the way her back popped in two places. She felt like she'd been bent over engines for ages.

"You go on and go, sweetie. I'll lock up."

"OK. See you tomorrow, Dad."

Keith waved her off as she grabbed her jacket and walked out through the garage.

She walked home, huddled in her jacket against the cold wind, and stopped at a sandwich shop to grab something for dinner. She was in no mood to cook her own dinner. As she walked into the apartment, she didn't hear anything from Kyle and breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted nothing more than to eat, have a hot shower, and fall into bed.

Two hours later, she lay wide awake, staring at her ceiling. She listened to the sounds of Kyle coming in, moving around and settling down for the night, and still, she couldn't sleep.
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