8. Xander

Xander

The day after our visit to the oncology ward, I found myself at an extravagant charity event, surrounded by the elite class who donated large sums to various causes. These events were always the same – glittering chandeliers, champagne flutes, and forced smiles. I was there because pretending to dote on their only child made Ronald and Judy Harrison – a.k.a. my parents – look good. Despite being an adult living on my own, I still attended when they asked. Some part of me still longed for their unconditional love and support, though I knew it was a fool"s hope.

As I sat at our table, feigning interest in the endless small talk, my mind wandered back to yesterday. Meeting those patients had been exhausting, but it had also stirred something deep inside me.

And then there was Bennett.

His vulnerability stirred something in me. My hands had reached out instinctively to him. He'd moved closer to me. I was sure it was done subconsciously because Bennett wasn't the kind of guy who showed any weaknesses if he could help it. I could still feel the weight of his head on my shoulder, the way he leaned into my touch.

My father, engrossed in conversation with a local politician, barely noticed when I slipped my phone out of my pocket. I opened the team"s group chat and scrolled through the contacts until I found Bennett"s number. Without overthinking it, I typed a message.

Me:Hey, Bennett. How you doing?

I tapped my foot, waiting for a response. The room buzzed with conversations about philanthropy and whatever else, but all I could think about was whether Bennett would reply.

It took a good ten minutes before my phone vibrated with a message.

Grumpleberry:Skating. You?

His response made me smile. Typical Bennett.

Me:At some fancy donor event for my parents. Boring as hell. Want some company?

There was a pause, and I imagined Bennett frowning at his phone, debating whether to let me join him.

Grumpleberry:If you can stand the cold, sure.

I chuckled, pocketing my phone. My parents were deep in conversation with other guests, their attention far from me. Slipping away from the table, I made my way out of the venue and headed to the rink – I always kept clean gear in my car.

When I arrived, the cold air was a welcome relief from the stifling opulence of the event. I spotted Bennett skating alone, his movements fluid and powerful. He saw me and skated over, his expression a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"Couldn"t stand the event, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

I shrugged. "I"d rather be here."

The cold air bit my cheeks as Ry and I glided on the ice, our blades cutting through the frosty surface. The rhythm we fell into was comfortable and familiar. We needed no words, just the silent understanding that passed between us.

I could hear the soft whisper of our blades against the ice, a sound as soothing to me as a lullaby. The smell of the chilled air plus the faint scent of Ry's cologne, an earthy aroma that somehow seemed to fit him perfectly.

His movements were fluid and graceful; mine more forceful. I could feel my muscles straining with each push off from the ice, my breath fogging up in front of me with every exhale.

We began our drills then – weaving around makeshift pylons, racing each other from one end of the rink to the other. Despite our camaraderie, there was always an undercurrent of competition between us – it was part of what made us who we were.

Ry pulled ahead in one race, his laughter echoing across the rink. "Bet you can"t catch me," he taunted without looking back.

A grin spread across my face as I pushed off harder from the ice. Oh yeah? "Watch me." A surge of adrenaline propelled me forward faster than before.

Bennett won.

As we slowed to a stop, panting and laughing, I caught Bennett"s eye. "How about we grab some hot chocolate? There"s a café not far from here."

Bennett looked at me, considering. "Alright, but you"re buying."

We changed out of our gear and headed out into the night. The rink sat on the edge of town, surrounded by quiet streets and softly glowing streetlights. The air was cool, with a hint of autumn lingering. The stars peeked through the clouds, casting a gentle light over the quiet streets.

The walk to the café was filled with a comfortable silence. Our breath puffed out in little clouds as we talked, and our footsteps echoed on the quiet sidewalk. The town was calm and peaceful, a stark contrast to the event I'd left behind.

"So, what"s it like hobnobbing with the elite?" Bennett asked, his tone teasing.

I rolled my eyes. "About as fun as a root canal. They only care about appearances and donations, not about the actual impact. Like their recent donation to Pacific Crest University—more about the name on the building than the students inside."

Bennett smirked. "Sounds like a blast."

"Yeah, a real thrill," I said sarcastically, nudging him with my shoulder. "What about you? How do you usually spend your days off?"

"Mostly skating or working out. Keeps me focused," Bennett replied, his tone a bit more serious. "I like the routine."

As we walked, the conversation flowed easily.

We settled into a cozy corner of the café, a charming little spot with rustic wooden tables and shelves lined with books and trinkets. Soft yellow light from hanging lamps bathed the room in a warm glow. The hum of quiet conversations and the clinking of cups created a comforting backdrop.

"So, tell me something about yourself that I wouldn"t know from watching you on the ice," I said, leaning back in my chair.

Bennett looked thoughtful for a moment. "I used to play the piano. My mom taught me when I was a kid."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "Do you still play?"

He shook his head. "Not really. After she got sick, it was hard to keep up with it. But sometimes I miss it."

"That"s a shame," I said, truly interested. "Maybe you should try picking it up again. It might be a good way to unwind."

"Maybe," Bennett said, a small smile playing on his lips. "What about you? Any hidden talents?"

I laughed. "Not really hidden, but I love music. Used to play guitar in a band during high school. It was nothing serious, just for fun."

Bennett"s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Do you still play?"

"Yeah, when I have the time. It"s a great way to relax and forget about everything else." A thought crossed my mind. "Well, that's something we have in common; we played an instrument but either life or hockey got in the way."

Bennett nodded, his eyes thoughtful.

We continued talking about our childhoods. I learned that Bennett had a soft spot for fishing and that he found solace in the simplicity of routine and solitude. In turn, I shared my love for traveling and how I"d always wanted to see the Caribbean, particularly Antigua and Barbuda. My best friend in high school was from the island country and boasted that it was only 108 square miles but had 365 beaches, one for every day of the year.

As the night wore on, I realized just how much I enjoyed Bennett"s company. Beneath his gruff exterior was a thoughtful, passionate person who cared deeply about the people in his life. It was a side of him that I felt privileged to see.

The café began to empty out, and we eventually decided it was time to head back. As we stepped outside, the cool night air hit us, but I felt a warmth inside that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate.

"Thanks for tonight," Bennett said as we walked back to the rink.

"Anytime," I replied, smiling at him. "I had a great time."

He glanced at me, a hint of his usual grumpiness returning. "Yeah, well, don"t expect to make a habit of it."

I chuckled. "Wouldn"t dream of it."

We stopped in front of the rink, the lights casting long shadows on the pavement. To be honest, I wasn't ready for the night to be over.

"See you tomorrow?"

He rolled his eyes but couldn"t hide a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow."