add, hoping she gets the hint I don’t want to discuss it. I never do. “Who did you think we were when you blasted me with the water?”
“Just some jerks who harassed me this morning while I was cleaning the men’s bathroom.” She scrunches her nose in a way that makes her looks adorable. “Today was my first day, and they thought it was entertaining that I don’t speak much Finnish. I guess I was a little tense when you and your friend came in.”
“So how ’bout we start over. Hi, I’m Kyle.”
“Sofia.” She glances at her phone and scrambles up. “I have to catch my bus.”
For a second, I think she’s going to suggest we should get together sometime, maybe go for a coffee. But she doesn’t. She rushes off. No hesitation or deliberation.
Like she never even considered it.
Chapter Three
Kyle
We’re often faced with moments in our lives that we regret. It could be something as simple as buying the wrong toothpaste and hating the taste of it. It could be something bigger that changes our lives, sometimes for the better, mostly for the worst.
Or sometimes it’s just waking up and realizing our mistakes from last night will haunt us for the rest of the day. I open my eyes and instantly recognize this is going to be one of those days. The bright light streaming into my room aggravates the pounding in my head. Shit.
My stomach churns, reminding me that it’s dealing with the aftermath of last night, too. For now it feels somewhat stable, as long as I don’t move. I snap my eyes shut and try to will myself back to sleep. That way when I wake up again, my hangover will be gone. I don’t remember last night, and I’d rather not remember the after effects while I’m at it.
Cool fingers trace along my back and slip under the sheet wrapped around my waist. Despite the pounding in my head, I vaguely remember the previous evening. I went out with Nik, my former NHL teammate. We drank. I tried to forget the past year. I tried to pretend the ache in my leg hadn’t worsened from an intensive day on the ice. And I tried to do what I promised my family I would do once I arrived in Finland: move on with my life.
The hand moves over my hip. I turn so I can see the girl who I’d hoped would make that all possible, even for a few hours. The blurred vision, with chin-length black hair, leans over me. I twist back around, reach for my glasses on the bedside table, and put them on. Last night, the girl looked like a hot version of Snow White. The morning after version looks like she ate the poisoned apple. Her face is pale and makeup is smeared under her eyes—not in a good way.
The good news, if you can call it that, is that we aren’t in my room. Not unless a tornado hit mine and deposited a mountain of fashion magazines and women’s clothing across the floor and furniture.
“Hi,” Snow White purrs with a thick Finnish accent, and for a moment I’m tempted to close my eyes and see if she vanishes when I open them again. To see if I vanish to a new location, preferably my apartment. But something tells me that won’t work, no matter how much I wish for it.
I stare at the ceiling, compounding my headache further as I struggle to remember what happened last night. I remember drinking. I remember playing pool and winning. I remember talking to my brother on my cell phone…
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Snow White scoots over and whispers in my ear, “Yes, please.” Her voice is the low murmur of seduction.
“The energy of light per unit of time determines its intensity. And right now, the light shining through your blinds is carrying too much energy.”
She blinks, having no idea what I said.
“The light is bright and it’s fucking with my hangover.”
Her confused expression slips away, to be replaced by the familiar ‘God, you’re weird.’
“How did we get here?” I ask.
“You don’t remember? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were kind of drunk.” No shit . “Don’t worry. I
“Just some jerks who harassed me this morning while I was cleaning the men’s bathroom.” She scrunches her nose in a way that makes her looks adorable. “Today was my first day, and they thought it was entertaining that I don’t speak much Finnish. I guess I was a little tense when you and your friend came in.”
“So how ’bout we start over. Hi, I’m Kyle.”
“Sofia.” She glances at her phone and scrambles up. “I have to catch my bus.”
For a second, I think she’s going to suggest we should get together sometime, maybe go for a coffee. But she doesn’t. She rushes off. No hesitation or deliberation.
Like she never even considered it.
Chapter Three
Kyle
We’re often faced with moments in our lives that we regret. It could be something as simple as buying the wrong toothpaste and hating the taste of it. It could be something bigger that changes our lives, sometimes for the better, mostly for the worst.
Or sometimes it’s just waking up and realizing our mistakes from last night will haunt us for the rest of the day. I open my eyes and instantly recognize this is going to be one of those days. The bright light streaming into my room aggravates the pounding in my head. Shit.
My stomach churns, reminding me that it’s dealing with the aftermath of last night, too. For now it feels somewhat stable, as long as I don’t move. I snap my eyes shut and try to will myself back to sleep. That way when I wake up again, my hangover will be gone. I don’t remember last night, and I’d rather not remember the after effects while I’m at it.
Cool fingers trace along my back and slip under the sheet wrapped around my waist. Despite the pounding in my head, I vaguely remember the previous evening. I went out with Nik, my former NHL teammate. We drank. I tried to forget the past year. I tried to pretend the ache in my leg hadn’t worsened from an intensive day on the ice. And I tried to do what I promised my family I would do once I arrived in Finland: move on with my life.
The hand moves over my hip. I turn so I can see the girl who I’d hoped would make that all possible, even for a few hours. The blurred vision, with chin-length black hair, leans over me. I twist back around, reach for my glasses on the bedside table, and put them on. Last night, the girl looked like a hot version of Snow White. The morning after version looks like she ate the poisoned apple. Her face is pale and makeup is smeared under her eyes—not in a good way.
The good news, if you can call it that, is that we aren’t in my room. Not unless a tornado hit mine and deposited a mountain of fashion magazines and women’s clothing across the floor and furniture.
“Hi,” Snow White purrs with a thick Finnish accent, and for a moment I’m tempted to close my eyes and see if she vanishes when I open them again. To see if I vanish to a new location, preferably my apartment. But something tells me that won’t work, no matter how much I wish for it.
I stare at the ceiling, compounding my headache further as I struggle to remember what happened last night. I remember drinking. I remember playing pool and winning. I remember talking to my brother on my cell phone…
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Snow White scoots over and whispers in my ear, “Yes, please.” Her voice is the low murmur of seduction.
“The energy of light per unit of time determines its intensity. And right now, the light shining through your blinds is carrying too much energy.”
She blinks, having no idea what I said.
“The light is bright and it’s fucking with my hangover.”
Her confused expression slips away, to be replaced by the familiar ‘God, you’re weird.’
“How did we get here?” I ask.
“You don’t remember? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were kind of drunk.” No shit . “Don’t worry. I
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