Legacy of The Night continues...
Saturday was a write-off, having an earlier than usual game. Saturday was also, hands down, the best day I've had here so far. All-in, it just kept getting better and better and better, spilling over into my Sunday and hopefully into 6th week. Here's to the best one yet.
We had an earlier than usual start time, faceoff at 4:30, so down to the rink for 3:30, we stepped up, laughed, the usual pregame and down to the dressing room. It was our captain's birthday, it was good, and we dressed in the usual fashion, my Doppelganger's bag smelling terrible and jokes about post-game beers. They were number one in the league, and we were in for a challenge. Rising to the challenge.
Took to the ice, eleven seconds ticked, and suddenly that solid thunk of rubber on metal, arms raised, cheers, and we had first blood. One minute later, again, another bite. Snapped in, and we smiled, surprised, but wary. At the end of the first it was 3-2, and we retired to the dressing room with our game faces on, vowing to buck up and come out kicking. We kicked. Hard. Somehow it all just clicked, the work, the time, and our play was as good as it could be. Four more goals in thirty minutes, we shut out their scoring for the rest of the game. I cannot possibly describe here how amazing that game was, how good it felt, how each goal surprised us even more, how wide our smiles were at the end. We undressed so slowly, savouring the moments, and watched the end of the men's team with gameplay falling off our tongues.
I was still a bit worried, my Friday was my first bad night in Oxford, and I wasn't convinced that Saturday was going to live up. Boy was I wrong. I caught a lift home and grabbed my roomie, and the two of us hauled down to the pub, met up with the team and plotted. Rolling out a little later than I had hoped, my mind railed, sure that we had mis-timed things and that our night was going to end before it had began, hitting a line or a cover charge or the cold night air. The square by the Camera was moonlit, starry skies overhead and I tilted my head back and grinned, sure that nothing could ruin my mood, my evening, the fabulous time we were just bound to have. And I was right. That romantic cityscape was a brilliant sign of things to come.
Up to the door and through, not even stopped for our non-Oxford companion, and we grabbed drinks. I was still unsure of the night. Then everything suddenly started rolling, beginning with me spying a 2-time drunken kiss with his back to me. Not again. I rolled my internal eyes and wondered if we'd end up together again. Hoped against it. We went upstairs. That is when our night out became A Night.
I went to buy beer, glancing around, across the bar. My non-date winked at me. I wondered what his game plan might be, wondered about my own, decided that despite our little apology session that I really didn't have the inclination to deal with him tonight, and really, to deal with him much at all. So back with beer. Two sips in, hilarity struck. Three in the same small room, and I panicked slightly as the weight sunk in, spying in the process a couple of my male sports counterparts. McGill. Hi McGill. That was the end of it in my own head, a nod and smile and nothing more.
A while later he beckoned me over. Thinking back, I know now that his friends disappeared quite quickly, as he asked me not about myself, but about my D.P.G. and indeed I obliged, assuming he was crushing her. A flicker of a smile and a joke. I absentmindedly rubbed my shoulder, which was sore from too much hockey. He asked, I told, and before I knew it I was standing so close, his hand on my back, his smell, my hand up against his chest to keep my distance. I paused, exhaled, closed my eyes and stepped back. Too much my friend, too much. He insisted, and I acquiesced. His hand moving up into my hair. And I remembered what she and I had discussed that afternoon before the game, how hair was somehow different. His cheek was warm and pressed to mine, my hand again keeping the distance and my mind racing, knowing who was around me and knowing who he was. He kissed my cheek. And again it stopped, distanced, and that kiss was far too erotic to be safe. His lips pressed mine, for an instant I responded, then placed a foot between us. "I can't kiss you." Explaining hurriedly that it wasn't the place, I offered contact information and made my hasty escape, heart racing.
Then there was Tuesday. Somewhere in there, between McGill and The Madman, Tuesday slipped an arm around me, engaged me in too much serious conversation and bid me adieu. I bid him good riddance. Far too serious and not nearly good looking enough. Fine. And then The Madman appeared in my field of vision, and just enough liquid courage brought my feet to his feet, and as we chatted and introduced ourselves, I found my feet moving, and asked him back to join us. His hand found mine, fingers interlaced, and I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble.
In fact, it didn't go as badly as I'd expected. At one point excusing myself, I found McGill wearing a coat. Promising he'd see me sooner than I thought, we said our goodbyes. And I dove back into the night, as the lights came up I had managed to get through the night relatively unscathed, considering the minefield that enveloped the room, and we sauntered off on our way home, so full of the Night. The Madman couldn't stand, and I propped him down the street. The corner, held his shoulders and asked him if he would get home. He said he would if I came with him, and I declined. Then again, as unexpected as the first time, lips, teeth, TEETH, oh god teeth. I stepped back. Said goodnight. My breath rapid and I told him to get home safely, that I would ring in an hour to make sure.
And so the text went off into the early morning. I went to sleep. Satisfied with my evening, better than anything yet. But it wasn't over. Because with A Night, the Legacy of The Night continues after The Night ends. And Legacy indeed. Bear with me, this won't take long.
After birthday lunch with my Texan friend, I wandered home to check my email before leaving to meet teammates in town. Interesting. Hotmail, hmmmm, and there was the promised 'sooner than I thought'. Before I could fashion a reply I beeped. Amazing. Who'd've thought he'd remember me at all? It was The Madman, asking me to meet him. Suddenly the night snapped into perspective. After texts flew back and forth I put my foot down on coffee, I had to see DPG and reassess my options. Options! Me! Holy Hell.
So the bottom line and end of the story is thus: I'm perhaps in over my head, but all's well that ends well. And things seem to be ending well. I will have a better idea after Tuesday. Now, on that note I have to end this 5th week madness and sleep off my delightful waste of a weekend. My alarm is set for eight sharp and my bags are packed. See you at the library.
We had an earlier than usual start time, faceoff at 4:30, so down to the rink for 3:30, we stepped up, laughed, the usual pregame and down to the dressing room. It was our captain's birthday, it was good, and we dressed in the usual fashion, my Doppelganger's bag smelling terrible and jokes about post-game beers. They were number one in the league, and we were in for a challenge. Rising to the challenge.
Took to the ice, eleven seconds ticked, and suddenly that solid thunk of rubber on metal, arms raised, cheers, and we had first blood. One minute later, again, another bite. Snapped in, and we smiled, surprised, but wary. At the end of the first it was 3-2, and we retired to the dressing room with our game faces on, vowing to buck up and come out kicking. We kicked. Hard. Somehow it all just clicked, the work, the time, and our play was as good as it could be. Four more goals in thirty minutes, we shut out their scoring for the rest of the game. I cannot possibly describe here how amazing that game was, how good it felt, how each goal surprised us even more, how wide our smiles were at the end. We undressed so slowly, savouring the moments, and watched the end of the men's team with gameplay falling off our tongues.
I was still a bit worried, my Friday was my first bad night in Oxford, and I wasn't convinced that Saturday was going to live up. Boy was I wrong. I caught a lift home and grabbed my roomie, and the two of us hauled down to the pub, met up with the team and plotted. Rolling out a little later than I had hoped, my mind railed, sure that we had mis-timed things and that our night was going to end before it had began, hitting a line or a cover charge or the cold night air. The square by the Camera was moonlit, starry skies overhead and I tilted my head back and grinned, sure that nothing could ruin my mood, my evening, the fabulous time we were just bound to have. And I was right. That romantic cityscape was a brilliant sign of things to come.
Up to the door and through, not even stopped for our non-Oxford companion, and we grabbed drinks. I was still unsure of the night. Then everything suddenly started rolling, beginning with me spying a 2-time drunken kiss with his back to me. Not again. I rolled my internal eyes and wondered if we'd end up together again. Hoped against it. We went upstairs. That is when our night out became A Night.
I went to buy beer, glancing around, across the bar. My non-date winked at me. I wondered what his game plan might be, wondered about my own, decided that despite our little apology session that I really didn't have the inclination to deal with him tonight, and really, to deal with him much at all. So back with beer. Two sips in, hilarity struck. Three in the same small room, and I panicked slightly as the weight sunk in, spying in the process a couple of my male sports counterparts. McGill. Hi McGill. That was the end of it in my own head, a nod and smile and nothing more.
A while later he beckoned me over. Thinking back, I know now that his friends disappeared quite quickly, as he asked me not about myself, but about my D.P.G. and indeed I obliged, assuming he was crushing her. A flicker of a smile and a joke. I absentmindedly rubbed my shoulder, which was sore from too much hockey. He asked, I told, and before I knew it I was standing so close, his hand on my back, his smell, my hand up against his chest to keep my distance. I paused, exhaled, closed my eyes and stepped back. Too much my friend, too much. He insisted, and I acquiesced. His hand moving up into my hair. And I remembered what she and I had discussed that afternoon before the game, how hair was somehow different. His cheek was warm and pressed to mine, my hand again keeping the distance and my mind racing, knowing who was around me and knowing who he was. He kissed my cheek. And again it stopped, distanced, and that kiss was far too erotic to be safe. His lips pressed mine, for an instant I responded, then placed a foot between us. "I can't kiss you." Explaining hurriedly that it wasn't the place, I offered contact information and made my hasty escape, heart racing.
Then there was Tuesday. Somewhere in there, between McGill and The Madman, Tuesday slipped an arm around me, engaged me in too much serious conversation and bid me adieu. I bid him good riddance. Far too serious and not nearly good looking enough. Fine. And then The Madman appeared in my field of vision, and just enough liquid courage brought my feet to his feet, and as we chatted and introduced ourselves, I found my feet moving, and asked him back to join us. His hand found mine, fingers interlaced, and I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble.
In fact, it didn't go as badly as I'd expected. At one point excusing myself, I found McGill wearing a coat. Promising he'd see me sooner than I thought, we said our goodbyes. And I dove back into the night, as the lights came up I had managed to get through the night relatively unscathed, considering the minefield that enveloped the room, and we sauntered off on our way home, so full of the Night. The Madman couldn't stand, and I propped him down the street. The corner, held his shoulders and asked him if he would get home. He said he would if I came with him, and I declined. Then again, as unexpected as the first time, lips, teeth, TEETH, oh god teeth. I stepped back. Said goodnight. My breath rapid and I told him to get home safely, that I would ring in an hour to make sure.
And so the text went off into the early morning. I went to sleep. Satisfied with my evening, better than anything yet. But it wasn't over. Because with A Night, the Legacy of The Night continues after The Night ends. And Legacy indeed. Bear with me, this won't take long.
After birthday lunch with my Texan friend, I wandered home to check my email before leaving to meet teammates in town. Interesting. Hotmail, hmmmm, and there was the promised 'sooner than I thought'. Before I could fashion a reply I beeped. Amazing. Who'd've thought he'd remember me at all? It was The Madman, asking me to meet him. Suddenly the night snapped into perspective. After texts flew back and forth I put my foot down on coffee, I had to see DPG and reassess my options. Options! Me! Holy Hell.
So the bottom line and end of the story is thus: I'm perhaps in over my head, but all's well that ends well. And things seem to be ending well. I will have a better idea after Tuesday. Now, on that note I have to end this 5th week madness and sleep off my delightful waste of a weekend. My alarm is set for eight sharp and my bags are packed. See you at the library.
posted by Care | 10:30 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home