16. Axl

sixteen

Axl

I feel uncomfortable as Sophie’s dad takes me back to his room, but I hum in my head to get through it. He’s chatty, telling me his name is Shawn. Apparently, everyone in this family has S names, with her mom being Susan. That’s cute. I’m sure he’s sending me a subliminal message when he hands me a T-shirt from his closet that says, “Dads Against Daughters Dating.” The word dating is in one of those warning circles with an X over it. Good thing we are only fake dating. I can’t help but tease a grin and say, “Thanks.”

I return to the kitchen, and Sophie’s still sputtering out little rushes of laughter. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were here.”

“It’s only water.” I chuckle, still seeing the image of her shocked expression in my head. That was priceless. Everything I expected it to be and more. She’s just one of those chill girls that’s easy to hang out with.

“Thanks, bruh.” Sam reaches over for a high-five. “That was so fire!”

I smack his hand, strangely feeling like we’re part of some club. “You’re welcome, bruh .” I’ve never been up on Gen Z lingo, but it’s sort of fun to pretend to know what it means. Plus, bruh feels good to say. It hangs in your throat and sounds tough.

“Dinner is ready,” Susan calls from the kitchen as she’s busy setting the salad and potatoes on the table. All the food is dished into matching white tableware and looks very inviting.

Sophie leads me to the modest wood table in the center of the kitchen, and we all shuffle around it, filling the seats. “I feel like we’re doing this backwards, seeing as how you met everyone already. I’m sorry I didn’t get to the door when you came. I honestly didn’t hear the doorbell.”

“I didn’t ring it.” I laugh again, recalling how it all went down. “I pulled up to the house, and right away I saw the bushes moving. I thought it was a raccoon, but it was awfully animated.”

“The bushes were moving?” Sophie’s face stills and her eyes widen. She must have anxiety about these kinds of things. “Huh, did you see anyone—I mean any thing ?”

“Yeah, it was your brother. He was waving me closer to tell me his plan.”

“It was only Sam.” Sophie’s eyes shift side to side before she tacks on, “You didn’t see anybody else?”

It was my turn to shift my eyes side to side. “Was I supposed to find someone else?”

“No,” she blurts out and then rushes to add, “I mean, it’s just weird. Sort of scary to think about someone hiding in the bushes.” She elbows her brother. “Glad it was just you, Sam.”

Sophie must have some phobia of being snuck up on or something, because her entire facial expression has changed. Maybe living with a brother who is always starting water fights makes her paranoid?

“Anyway.” Shawn clears his throat as he passes the potatoes to me. “Glad you could visit us tonight. We don’t get to see much of Sophie anymore, and it’s rare she brings a guy home.”

I scoop out the potatoes and pass them to Sophie. “Thank you for having me. It’s been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal.”

“If you’re excited about the food,” Shawn replies, “you can rest assured Susan’s meatloaf is not only above average, but it's some of the best you'll ever eat.”

I steal a gaze at Sophie, who’s beaming back at both of her parents. Their energy all syncs together, creating this harmony, nothing like what happens at my parents’ house. I have a happy family, but both my parents have solid careers, and they work a lot. We ate dinner together when they were home, but they were mostly quiet. My parents sure didn’t allow water guns in the house. I would have been grounded for life for that. I got grounded for a whole month when I put a puck through the basement door. They were so particular with their décor and keeping things nice. Not that there's anything wrong with treating things with respect, but they could stand to loosen up a bit.

Once the food is all circulated, Shawn takes his wife’s hand and bows his head. It’s obvious he’s going to pray, and I follow his lead and lower my gaze, half wondering if this is going to be another joke.

“Dear Lord,” Shawn recites with what seems like sincere commitment, “thank you for this food, for those who prepared it, and for the family and our new friend, Axl, with whom we share it. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.” He raises his gaze back to his plate, and everyone digs in as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I’m quite honored he included my name in his prayer. I don’t come from an overly spiritual background. I’ve been to church and all, but my family never prayed in front of strangers. I dig into my meatloaf, and it only takes a couple of bites for me to agree with Shawn that Susan’s meatloaf is above average. It’s not only seasoned to perfection but has amazing chew through, but in the oddest way, it's not the meatloaf that makes this meal amazing. If I must explain it, I’ll say it’s because of the company making me feel so welcome.

“So, Axl.” Susan sort of hums from her seat across from me. “Tell us about yourself. Where did you grow up, and what’s your family like? Have you always played hockey?”

“Certainly.” Swallowing my food, I straighten my spine and fix my gaze on her. “I grew up in the Midwest. Only child. Two great parents. Dad is a milk hauler, and my mom is a nurse who works nights. The town I’m from has only about five hundred people, and there’s not much to do, especially in winter. I would usually spend my time on the pond ice skating since it was free and by my house. I didn’t even know I was good at it until our middle school formed a hockey team. The coach had seen me skating at the park and asked me to try out. After that, everything became about hockey. I got lucky and was able to play in college, where we made it to the championship games in our division. That game was televised, and that’s how Bill Baker, the owner of Granite Ice, saw me. He flew out and offered me a spot as a starter for his new team.”

“That worked out pretty smoothly.” Susan beams at me. “Have you been to Mapleton before?”

“Never heard of it.” I chuckle, remembering that I didn’t even remember where Vermont was on the map.

“Do you like it so far?” Susan asks as she takes a bite of potatoes.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad.” I saw off a chunk of my meatloaf.. “I’m used to small towns. As long as I have a place to sleep and skate, I’m happy.”

“Well,” Shawn interjects, holding his finger up as his elbow rests on the table, “I will tell you two secrets nobody knows about this town unless you’re born and raised.”

I steal a gaze at Sophie. She’s happily chewing her food, and something about seeing her doing the most normal thing stirs my heart. It feels special to be included in this part of her life. I would have never expected this, but just sitting next to her at the dinner table makes it really hard to focus on Shawn. I slide my lips over my teeth, and I lean toward Shawn. “What are the secrets?”

“The first happened years ago.” Shawn starts off with the utmost serious expression on his face. I half expect a ghost story, so I’m swallowing and tuning in. “A circus was driving through town and crashed along the interstate overpass. All their monkey cages were dumped, and the monkeys escaped into the brush. People thought they’d all die off in the New England weather, but surprisingly, they’ve been populating and carrying on with their best lives. So, if you ever notice any wild monkeys, it’s not your imagination.”

Thinking he’s joking, I start to chuckle, but everyone holds their serious expression, so I swallow my humor. “Wow, that’s crazy. I haven’t seen anything like that, but thanks for the heads up.”

“This one’s even better,” he says, letting me in on the second secret. “When I was growing up, there was a huge media kerfuffle in the local papers about someone breaking into a barn and ‘spooking’ some chickens. It was a regular thing, where every morning there was another complaint that Farmer Hanson’s barn was being broken into. This was well before video cameras were a thing, so we had to set a good ol’ fashion stakeout to stay up all night and see what was going on. Turns out, his rowdy son was running an illegal casino underneath the barn! He’d dug himself a root cellar with a trap door he covered with a big pile of hay, and he was entertaining travelers from all over, but . . . ” Shawn pauses and wags his finger at me. “The best part is that these travelers were usually hungry, and Farmer Hanson’s son learned how to cook. With a lack of resources, he grilled steak kebobs over an open camp fire. Of course, they were breaking every fire code there ever was, but those were the best cuts of meat a man will ever eat.” He licks his lips as if he can still taste the kabobs. “When they came to shut down the casino, those kebabs won over the police. Somehow, he got off with some phony ticket and a business license to set up his own kabob shop right in the town square—”

“Wait a second,” I interrupt as I’m putting two and two together. “You’re not telling me that’s where Red Barn Kebobs in town square got their start, are you?”

“I knew your mama didn’t raise a fool.” Shawn’s smile spreads wide as he chuckles at his own joke. “Isn’t that wild?”

“It’s true.” Sophie nods as her eyes sparkle back at me. I am thoroughly engrossed in this story, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing how stunning Sophie is, even when she’s doing the most mundane things, like eating average meatloaf. “They do have the best kebobs,” she gushes. “Have you tried them yet?”

“No, I haven’t. I’ve only seen the sign, but now that I know it’s famous history, I’ll have to go there.” An idea sparks in my head, and before I have a chance to push it away, I risk it. “Maybe you and I can check it out together?”

Her eyes drop to her plate. Her lashes flutter a few times before she raises her gaze back to mine. “Yeah, that’s definitely something we can plan on.”

“Well.” Shawn pushes his chair back as he takes the napkin off his lap and sets it on his plate. “That meatloaf was delicious like always. Thanks for dinner, honey.”

“Don’t get up yet. I was just going to bring out my famous boiled eggs.” Susan stands and motions for us to stay sitting.

Sophie nearly sprays water out of her mouth from the cup she was drinking out of. “No eggs, Mama, but thanks.”

Susan laughs as well, collecting plates. I had been so entranced in Shawn’s stories, I hadn’t noticed everyone had cleaned their plates, including myself.

“Yes, thank you.” I stand, lifting my plate and carrying it to the sink. “Can I help with anything?”

“You are welcome.” Susan comes up from behind me, lowering her stack of dishes to the counter. “It sounds sort of corny, but doing dishes is sort of my me time. I turn on my Loretta Lynn and we just vibe.” She nods toward Sophie. “You two kids can just relax. I know it’s been a long time since Sophie has had time off.”

“I agree. And I have an idea.” Sophie slides in next to her mom, reaches into the cupboard, and retrieves two glasses and a corkscrew. She motions to the bottle of wine I brought that’s still resting untouched on the counter. “We can take that wine on the porch. It’s screened in, and a little chilly, but if we take a blanket, it might be cozy.” She winks at me, and a zap of electricity slams into my gut.

I understood her being neighborly and inviting me over for a home-cooked dinner after we’d become friends and all, but wine on the porch feels awfully like a date to me.

The thing is, there’s a magnetic pull from me directly to Sophie that pulsates, telling me that I want to have wine on the porch with her. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

I grab the wine, and she snatches up a heavy throw blanket from the sofa, and we head out to the front porch, taking a seat on the wood swing in the corner. The swing creaks when it pulls back, but it’s nothing we can’t ignore. I don’t protest when she offers me half of the blanket and we spread it over both our laps. It’s chilly, but not past the point of comfort, and if anything it just gives us an incentive to sit close.

She swaps her smile from the one that was vibrant, full of life, and teasing to something more secret, that she hasn’t shared with me before.

It's flirty and languid.

Beautiful.

Directed at me.

And so, so confusing!

There’s not a soul in sight. No reason for us to act like we’re a couple, yet her smile is more a genuine I’m-interested-in-you smile than anything she’s given me thus far.

She sets about removing the cork from the wine, and I take the glasses and hold them out for her. After she fills each glass, she folds her half of the blanket over, and leans way forward to place the bottle on the porch, then leans back on the porch swing, and snuggles even closer to me. Her eyes pace between my face to the bushes behind us. After catching her staring at the bushes a second time, I get paranoid. “Is there something in there you’re seeing?” I look around but she quickly drops her hand to my leg!

“Oh, no!” she blurts out. “Just watching the wind blow through the leaves.” She leans closer, bringing a waft of her scent right into my airway. It’s the smell of honey and vanilla. Her voice lowers to a sultry tone, and she whispers, “Tell me about this wine,” right as she takes a sip.

“I don’t really know anything about it. I grabbed the bottle that was on sale.” Her eyes lock on mine, sending pulsating spirals, and I get the impression she has something rather specific in her mind. She takes the glass from my hand and sets it alongside hers on the floor next to the wine bottle. Her gaze flickers to my mouth and back to my eyes. All her facial features soften as she bites down on her bottom lip while a little giggle leaks from her lips.

It’s clear she wants me to kiss her.

My mind flashes back to our no-kissing rule, and I at once disregard that as a boundary that was placed for our acting, and we clearly aren’t performing right now.

Something is building between us, some sort of electromagnetic chemistry.

I don’t have one doubt that I could kiss her and get away with it, despite the pact, but it feels sort of rushed .

This whole date seems rushed , and with the way she’s looking at me, I can tell she’s interested, but she did just have a public breakup. Maybe this is more about her being lonely than wanting to be with me. It’s one thing to be a fake date, but I’m not going to be somebody’s rebound guy.

Yet, she smells so so so—

“Call me crazy.” She reaches out, playfully tracing a finger on my chin. “I just have the sudden urge to kiss you.”

My breath hitches. There’s no misreading that. My heart motors against my ribcage, and racing thoughts funnel through my mind. Kiss me, being the loudest one. “Doesn’t that break the pact?”

“It does,” she whispers, the pads of her fingers still intact on my chin. “Is that okay if I promise it won’t change anything? It’s just a fun kiss.”

A frantic flutter slams into my heart, nearly halting it.

There’s no such thing as a fun kiss. Not in my book. I’ve done the heartbreak thing before, and it’s too powerful to mess around with this stuff. I’m not about to be someone’s toy. But . . . if she has another idea, one that means we break the pact because we both feel this chemistry pulling us together, then I can go with that.

“You can kiss me.” I place my hand on her hand that’s still securely holding my leg. I may not be able to diagnose what sparked this urge of hers, but one thing I know is if I kiss her, she’s mine.

There'll be no more games.

“But if you do,” I say, lowering my voice into a warning, “it changes this whole thing . We can’t circle back to a talking stage, and I don’t do situationships that neither of us understand. No more faking it.

If you kiss me, you're mine .”

Her eyes waver for a mere moment, back to my lips, before hooking on mine again. Goosebumps dot my spine as the puck is in her possession. One tiny kiss gives me permission to claim her, and I wait patiently for her to either agree or disagree to the new terms.

Her eyelids close at the slowest speed, and she is unwavering in yield to me.

I cup her cheek in the palm of my hand, letting my fingers brush below her ears, and even though I’m sitting, my knees buckle. Instinctively my eyes close when our lips bond together, and I plummet into her warmth. My heart drums against my chest, wringing my breath out from me.

Ruining me as I’m completely willing to chuck my no-dating rule out the door.

Blending her and me—

Achoo!

We startle, at once pulling apart, our gazes slamming to the giant bush next to us. “Did that bush just sneeze?” I choke out, barely able to make audible words as my lips have completely gone numb from the tingles she left me with.

“Not the bush.” She jolts to her feet, wrapping her hand fast around my wrist and yanking me off the swing. “It’s . . . it’s the wild monkeys, and we have to get inside right away!” She pulls me forward at top speed, knocking over the glasses of wine, and I don’t have a chance to have a closer look.

After yanking open the door, she tugs me through it while pulling it shut behind us. We’re left tangled together, and I fall back against the door, breathless. I don’t have a clue what happened but the living room’s dark now. Her parents have likely gone to their room. The only light is the flicker of the porch light coming in at an angle through the front picture window. The light shadows dance across her face, dusting gold tendrils across her flawless skin.

I’m doomed.

I drop my hand on her hip, drawing her to me, and I take my other hand, wrapping it into hers. My hand completely eclipses her petite palm, and I’m acutely aware of all the ways our skin brushes together between each finger.

I don’t know what we just escaped outside.

I don’t think I believe in that wild monkey story.

But wild monkey or not, I’m not letting her avoid what just happened. I lift her hand to my mouth, press my lips onto the top of her knuckle, and imprint a kiss before I repeat, “You just changed the whole thing.”