Heat it Up: Off the Ice - Book One (13 page)

“So, after what your old boyfriend did to you, you’re ready to trust Kyle with your heart?”

I stop abruptly. “Who said anything about my heart? I’m just having fun with him, like I’m having fun with you.”

“Except you’ve never kissed me like you kissed him,” he mutters.

My face heats at the memory of what else I’ve done with Kyle that I haven’t with Joni.

Tension brushes against us like the hot July breeze. This isn’t how I wanted things to be between Joni and me. I wanted us to be friends. I thought we were friends. But I can’t be friends with him if he’s going to be jealous over something that might not amount to anything. It’s not like Kyle is my boyfriend. I’m not really sure what he is.

And it’s not like I’m looking for a boyfriend. Maybe summer fling is a better description—like Claire suggested. Once Kyle and I return home, we’ll go back to our own lives, which won’t include each other. He has his degree and there’s no guarantee he’ll stick around Minneapolis.

I straighten and start to cross the road. Joni follows. “I hope it’s okay with you, but I won’t be able to help out with your soccer team next week. The physical therapist where I work asked if I could cover for one of his staff members who will be away. It will be great experience.” I’m practically bouncing up and down at the news, like a cheerleader buzzed up on caffeine.

“That’s great. Are you still able to help out this week?”

“Absolutely. How’s your grandmother?” If he’s here, it must mean he was visiting her.

“I haven’t seen her yet. I was visiting yours.”

That can’t be good. “Mine? How come?”

“I went to see if you were home yet, so we can begin your Finnish lesson.”

I cringe. I never told Muumu where I was going after work. Usually I get home late from exploring Helsinki with Kyle. But he had something else he had to do today after work, and even though I’d told Muumu I was coming home early, I ended up shopping with Maija.

“Sorry, I went shopping with a friend from work,” I say. “Let me drop my stuff off and we can get started.” And hopefully he doesn’t tell Muumu what I’ve been up to and she doesn’t ask to see what I bought.

We go upstairs to the apartment, the tension between us a little lighter than before, but not by much. I can’t tell if it’s because I can’t help out with his team next week or because I’m spending the weekend with Kyle. Or maybe both.

I open the front door and moments later Muumu pops out of the kitchen. She asks me a question and I look at Joni for the translation. He doesn’t give me one. He replies to whatever she said. Her expression brightens and she looks at me expectantly. When I don’t respond, because I have no idea what I’m responding to, she rushes out another sentence or two. She wants to see what I bought.

“Clothes. Nothing exciting,” I explain.

He tells her some version of that and she replies. “She said even better,” he says. “I don’t think you’re getting out of this. You might as well show her.”

It could be worse. I could have raided Victoria’s Secrets and really given Muumu something to freak over.

I unzip my backpack and remove the skirt and tank tops. Before I realize what’s happening, the bikini gets caught on the skirt’s zipper and tags along for its grand unveiling. It falls from the offending piece of metal and flops on the floor.

Muumu picks it up while I inwardly groan at her anticipated reaction.

She inspects it, turning the skimpy pieces of fabric in her hands. Laughing, she says something else to me and hands the swimsuit back.

Joni chuckles. “She says you will look much better in it than she would. And I have to agree with her. She also suggested that you wear it for our Finnish lesson.” He laughs at what is no doubt a confused expression on my face. Why would I want to wear a bikini to learn Finnish? Unless this is an ancient Scandinavian trick I don’t know about to appease the language gods so learning the language will be a breeze. And if that’s true, I’d wear a thong if it will help me speak fluent Finnish.

If I had a thong.

“I’m taking you to the lake for our lesson,” Joni explains. “And your grandmother made us a picnic to bring with us.”

While I’m not sure the bikini part is a good idea, I’m all for studying by the lake. I put my stuff away, hiding the condoms in my suitcase so Muumu doesn’t accidentally find them. Then grab my Finnish language books I bought back in Minnesota. If Joni is disappointed that I didn’t change into the bikini, he doesn’t show it.

My cell phone weighs down my pocket as we walk to the lake, impatiently waiting for me to call Kyle. But I can’t do that in front of Joni. That’s not fair to him. He wants to spend time with me. He doesn’t want to spend time with me while I’m talking to Kyle on the phone—or texting him.

The beach, which is just a long, narrow stretch of sand that extends to the wooded area surrounding the lake, is busy when we arrive. We find a location not far from a group playing soccer, and spread out the blanket. Joni passes me a soda and we settle in for some serious studying.

“You need to roll your R’s,” he tells me after fifteen minutes of trying to teach me how to pronounce numerous words.

“I
was
rolling my R’s.”

He gives me a look asking me what planet I’m from. I respond with my own look: the planet that doesn’t require me to roll my freakin’ R’s.

“Okay, let’s try something else.” He flips through my book and starts reading the sentences, without letting me see them. “
Mitä minä sanoin
?” he adds after a pause.

I let my brain absorb the words. “You said, ‘What time is the movie?’”

“Very good. Do you know your numbers?”

I recite them from one to thirty. I can go higher but that took long enough.

“
Haluatsä nää elokuva mun kanssa?
”

Blink. I have no idea what he said.

“
Varo
!” a male voice yells and before we can see what he’s talking about, something solid slams against my arm.

“Ouch!”

The soccer ball rolls a short distance before stopping at a pair of men’s sneakers. The skin on my arm stings from the impact and I can tell it’s going to bruise.

“
Anteeksi
!” the owner, a guy Joni’s age, says. Scooping up the ball, he yammers away, the words lost on me.

“Sofia,” Joni says, “this is Markus. He’s on my football team.” To Markus, he says, “Sofia’s the first aider joining us. She’ll be taping ankles.”

Markus nods at me then winces. “Sorry about hitting you with the ball.”

I flash him a brief smile. “That’s okay. I’ll survive.”

“Do you guys want to join us?”

Joni and I exchange looks, then scramble up.

“What did you say before I was attacked by the ball?” I ask, taking my position on the sand.

“I wanted to know if you want to see a movie with me.”

I don’t have a chance to respond. Markus kicks the ball and the game is on.

Muumu watches as I slide out the small baking sheet from the toaster oven, revealing the grilled, open-faced sandwiches. The melted cheese oozes over the tomato slices.

“
Hyvää
.” She grins at my culinary masterpiece.

I place two on each of our plates and set the plates on the table. I’ve already made the salad.

Muumu sits and bites into a sandwich. “Mmmm.
Herkullista ruokaa
.” This is followed by something I loosely translate as “Are you going to see Joni play soccer?” Or she could have asked if I’m making sandcastles with him. Tough call.

I tell her yes. I don’t bother telling her that I’m checking my emails at the café first. That’s beyond my level of Finnish. Instead, I ask her if she wants to see a movie tomorrow night. Yes, Joni’s language lessons are paying off. And thankfully American movies aren’t dubbed in Finnish. Hello, subtitles.

She pulls out today’s newspaper and checks the listings for the local theater. She points to the romantic comedy that looks good and we make plans to see it.

Once I’m finished with dinner, I clean my dishes and head to the café. There, I order a Diet Coke and sit on an empty seat next to the window. Because I haven’t checked my inbox since yesterday afternoon, there’s a bunch for me to go through. Some are from Claire, who is eager to hear more about my non-existent love life.

Spending the weekend with Kyle at a cottage by a lake
, I type. I never told her that Kyle’s wife is dead. I referred to her as his ex-wife. She might not be as excited about me hanging out with him if she knows he’s dealing with that level of loss. A dead ex-boyfriend is nothing like a dead wife.

She responds soon after,
I didn’t realize things were getting serious between you two.

She only knows that he’s my fake boyfriend and we hang out whenever our schedules allow it. Which turns out is fairly often.

I’m not spending the weekend alone with him
, I reply.
We’re meeting up with a bunch of people he knows
. A romantic weekend for two, it’s not.

Not that I want a romantic weekend for two. We’re just friends. Friends who happen to kiss. That’s all.

Mom has responded to my email asking if she can talk to Muumu about her scheme to hook me up with Joni. All I get is a message that she’s going away for the weekend. She doesn’t mention who it’s with though. And since I don’t want to bring up how I’m going away for the weekend with Kyle, I let her email slide.

And finally, I read the email I had missed when I first scanned my unopened messages. It’s from my university regarding my fall clinical experience.

Dear Ms. Philips,

We’re sorry to inform you that Westbrook High School is no longer able to offer you the clinical placement for the fall due to funding cutbacks. We are doing our best to find you an alternative practicum.

I stare at the screen, unable to believe it. This had been a great opportunity and now it’s gone. And worst yet, all the best placements went early. Chances aren’t good the university will be able to line me up with something similar.

I reread the email several more times. Nothing changes. It really is true. I’m currently short a clinical placement. A clinical placement that is not only necessary for experience, it’s necessary for me to graduate next year.
Shit
.

I shutdown my laptop. As I pack up my stuff to leave for the soccer field, my phone pings.

Kyle:
You’re currently fantasizing about me…True or false?

The corner of my mouth twitches up.
Maybe,
I type back. I had thought about him several times today, even though I probably shouldn’t have. Against all my plans, Kyle is getting under my skin. I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good thing or not.

We’re just friends
, I remind myself once again.

Me:
You’re getting all hot and steamy over this text…True or false?

I hit send before realizing how lame it sounds. Ugh.

Kyle responds as I walk out of the cafe.
Maybe. You?

Well, considering I’m walking to the soccer field to tape a bunch of players’ ankles…

Kyle knows what I’m referring to. I told him about it after we “made up.”

He doesn’t send me any more texts. A slight twinge of disappointment zaps me like static. I’m not sure why. It’s not like I’ve ever had phone sex or sent sexts. I have no idea what to do.

And it’s not like I would actually do that with Kyle. It’s not like that between us.

Right. Because he never went down on you
.

Inwardly, I roll my eyes at the voice. It was a one-time thing. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s a player. I wouldn’t be surprised if his text to me was just foreplay before he heads out for the bar with his roommate to pick up more one-night stands.

The new twinge of disappointment hits me harder than before. I do my best to ignore it and practically run to the field where I’m meeting Joni’s team.

I arrive and Joni introduces me around. Dabria, the coach’s pregnant wife, takes me to the sideline where she has the supplies set up. “I’m so glad you can help me. For practices, we’re mostly here to provide first aid, but some of the men need their ankles taped. Joni said you know how to do that.”

“That’s right.”

She and I don’t have a chance to talk again until we’ve finished taping ankles. Then we sit back on the bench and watch her husband lead the practice. While they might not be professional players, they take the sport seriously. It’s no wonder Joni’s in good shape.

“Joni said you’re staying with your grandmother,” Dabria says.

“It’s just for the summer, then I’m returning to the US to finished my athletic training degree.” At least that was the plan until the dilemma with the canceled practicum. I do my best not to think about it, but it’s like an annoying mosquito bite that won’t stop itching.

“So nothing is going on between you and Joni?” she asks.

“He’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested in him that way.” And even if I were, I wouldn’t want to risk falling for him. Not when my heart could end up being a casualty or I could have to deal with a long-distance relationship that fades over time. It isn’t worth effort.

Besides, it’s not Joni who inconveniently fills my thoughts. It’s the dark-haired guy with glasses and a love for hockey and physics who’s the guilty one.

“Do you want to work with athletic teams once you’re finished your degree?” Dabria asks. “Or do you want to work in a clinic?”

I glance at the guys running around the field. “I’ve done both as part of my clinical training, but I like working with teams more.” The idea of working with a team and getting to know the players appeals to me. I don’t mean getting to know them on a personal level, but to know them enough to understand how best to work with them. To see the benefits of my job when the injured player can play again.

We watch the guys run through their drills. Markus, the guy from the beach last week, cuts one way but his knee has other plans and he goes down. I’m already on my feet, charging across the field before Dabria has a chance to stand up from the bench.