Nine

My performance declined a little, but no one noticed. Remember, I had been a stellar athlete in the past few weeks as I tried to forget, and a little drop-off would hardly be noticed. A couple days and the Sabres showed up.

They flew to Ottawa in the morning, while we had our skate. I lingered around the building for a couple hours while they had theirs, lurked around in the shadows as they got on the bus, and followed them back to their hotel. Inauspiciously, of course. But I tell you what; this stalking thing was getting definitely easier with time.

I stood around outside the hotel for at least a half an hour, waiting on an unspoken agreement that I’d made with Miro. He came down the front stairs with the funny little half-running gait that men use when they’re coming down a flight of stairs in a hurry, and we slunk out to my car. Somehow it all went according to a plan that maybe one of us had thought up, spoken with our eyes, but it worked against all laws.

Before we’d gotten to the freeway we were clutching hands desperately, because have you ever tried to drive and kiss someone furiously at the same time? You really can’t, much as I wanted to. I peeled on and off the freeway, and once I think I may have nearly caused an accident, but to tell the truth I don’t remember. Maybe, maybe not.

In the garage, leapt out of the car, I hadn’t even gotten my keys into the door before we were kissing so hard I saw stars.

I wondered if you could bruise your lips?

Lips on lips, tongues winding and twisting and sliding. I giggled a little; lips are ticklish. They are! Dark eyes and hair and fair skin filled my field of vision as I tried valiantly to put the key in the door. In, turn key, unlock door, fall inside with a somewhat painful thud. The immediate pleasure of hands and mouth exhausted the pain, soothed it away and put it to rest. Still, thought I, I’m going to have bruises.

I struggled over to my bedroom, dragging him, shedding my shirt and then my shoes.

“I,” I pant. “I missed you,” sobbing breath. “So damn much,” heavy pant. “That I could die.” I have no time for more words, but the void was quickly filled with skin on skin, taut and sweaty.

He moved to take off his shirt.

Of his own accord.

“Miro, wait…” I didn’t know if I could stand to screw him and see his arms at the same time, the white scars filling my eyes.

“I—tried—not—to—for—so—long,” he said in a whisper, voice breaking, sobbing. “And I couldn’t, because if I didn’t…if I didn’t…I had to! And then I did, and I was okay again, but I’m broken inside, and I can’t—not—wanted, too bad for my suffering,” he mumbled, incoherent, and the tears wouldn’t come from his eyes, or couldn’t break the seal. “And then I was okay. And then I was okay.”

The words went right through me, stabbing until I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t, and instead I kissed him, kissed his eyes and face and held him by the wrists until I felt him stop breathing so hard and he kissed me back.

We slept together, slow and hard and better than ever, fell asleep and later I woke, picked my head off the pillow, rubbed my eyes and looked at Miro. His eyes remained closed, sleeping form breathing, and I thought to myself that I wouldn’t be the cause of something that let his soul die.

I lay my head back on the pillow and stared at the ever-familiar ceiling. When Miro spoke I jumped.

“You have nice hair,” he said sleepily. I quirked an eyebrow. “Color of the sun.”

“Uh, thank you, I suppose? No one’s ever told me that before.” Actually I was just grateful he hadn't seen me in my horrible hair-dying phase of my teenage years.

“Well, now they have.” He closed his eyes again.

“Hey, I talked to Mariusz,” I said slowly. I knew if I didn’t say it then, I’d say it at some other, more inopportune time, like in the middle of sex. This wasn’t much better, but hey, it wasn’t during sex.

“You what?” The shock in his voice was absolute. “Why?”

Um. Didn’t have a reason.

“Because I…because I…oh, fuck it, I can’t explain.”

“You can’t explain?” Disdain. Oh, sharp and bitter disdain, very near to painful.

“No…”

God, why don’t I just throw myself out the window RIGHT NOW? I cursed myself.

“I applaud you for the effort but it wasn’t necessary, seeing as how I honestly don’t give two half-dead shits about something that happened years ago, Marian,” he said flatly. I could almost hear the “stupid child” he tacked onto the end in his thoughts.

I’m not a stupid child.