Heat it Up: Off the Ice - Book One (3 page)

“I know it won’t bring her back,” Cody grumbles. The same hurt and distrust I’ve heard in his voice so many times, since my accidental overdose, darkens his tone.

“Look, bro, I know I fucked up last year. But I promise it won’t happen again. I’m not on those drugs anymore.” I’m not on any drugs, other than the liquid kind. And even that I save for when I’m not coaching the next day. I’d rather put up with the pain than risk another accidental overdose, than risk being addicted to the drug, than risk showing up at work with an epic hangover. An asshole move like that could screw up my future career.

“But you’re still hanging out with Nik,” Cody says.

I glance down at my favorite t-shirt. The t-shirt that says: May the ∑F =
m
a be with you. The t-shirt that Nik complained last night looked like I was entering a math contest instead of hitting the clubs. “There’s nothing wrong with Nik.”

“Dad says he’s a hotheaded ass who’s eager to milk the benefits of his fame.”

Yeah, I do remember that conversation with Dad. I just didn’t realize Cody had overheard it. I cringe at what else he probably also overheard when Dad forgot I’m twenty-four and not ten years old, and tried to ground me so I didn’t come to Finland.

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Kyle.” Cody’s voice cracks on the last part.

I might not feel guilty about the women I’m screwing, but I do feel like shit after he says that. “I promise you nothing bad is going to happen to me while I’m here. And I promise I’ll be back home at the end of August. I wouldn’t miss watching you play for anything.” Even if it will tear me up inside knowing he’s the one who has a shot at making his NHL dreams come true, while I only get to watch from the sidelines. I’ll never again get to experience the euphoria of playing in the Stanley Cup playoffs. The dream of every hockey player.

The answering silence is louder than the rain hammering the metal roof.

He doesn’t believe me.

I’m about to say something else, when I hear our father’s voice on Cody’s end. I can’t make out what he said, but I pray to a God I don’t believe in that Cody never mentioned anything to my father about what I was doing last night. I don’t need any more lectures. I need some coffee and a shower. In that order.

“I have to go.” Cody ends the call without giving me a chance to say goodbye, and without giving me a chance to repeat my promise. A promise that now feels oddly empty.

His disappointment at what I’ve become clings to me, but I’m too tired to think about it. I turn up the volume on the radio and pull away from my parking spot.

I pack my wallet, laptop, and camera in my backpack, and head for the apartment door. “I’m going to The Coffee Bar,” I call out to the empty apartment. My grandmother has failed to join the twenty-first century. She doesn’t have a computer, let alone Internet. I swear, we must be the only apartment in the building without it.

A loud knock on the door startles me. I open it and gape at the man in front of me—the man who looks like an actor from the soap
The Endless Circle
. The show is bigger in Finland than it is in the States, but Muumu and I bonded over it during my first day here. We both agree that the actor is hot.

The guy’s short, spiky brown hair complements his warm brown eyes, and he has scruff along his jaw and upper lip. In a way, he’s similar to the guy from the sauna last week, except Kyle’s hair has waves and his eyes are light blue. This guy isn’t as tall or built like Kyle either, though he still looks in good shape. Nor does he wear glasses, unlike Kyle.

And he’s standing in front of me with a bouquet of white, pink, and purple flowers.

I scan the bright, airy hallway, searching for the TV crew. It’s a joke. It has to be. Like in those shows where the unsuspecting victim doesn’t realize she’s being pranked until it’s too late. Which means if it’s true, I won’t see the camera. I won’t know I’m being pranked until it’s over.

The guy doesn’t say anything at first. He blinks like he can’t believe I’m standing here, like he was expecting someone else. “Hi, Sofia? I’m your date,” actor dude says with a strong Finnish accent. Wow, he’s good. “My name’s Joni.” He shifts on his feet and for a second looks unsure of himself, unlike the guy he plays on
The Endless Circle
.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans,” I say as sweetly as possible. If this goes on air, I don’t want to come off as a bitch. My friends back home might see it. “You’re gonna have to prank someone else.”

“Prank?” The way he says the word, it’s like he’s tasting it for the first time and he’s not sure what to expect.

“Yes, prank. You know, joke?” I wave my hand in the air, gesturing at the hidden cameras. “You’re the actor from
The Endless Circle
, and you’re here to prank me.”

“
The Endless Circle
?” If I thought he looked confused before, that’s nothing compared to now. Not to mention he’s looking at me, deciding if I’m crazy or not. And right now it’s not looking too hot in the non-crazy department.

He holds out the flowers. “I’m not an actor. I work in advertising. And I create comics.” The last part seems more of an afterthought and a light blush hits his cheeks. “Our grandmothers arranged for us to go out for lunch. Together.”

“Seriously?”

He nods and a memory pops into my head of Muumuu and I watching the soap together for the first time and her mentioning Joni’s name. At the time I thought she was talking about the actor. She meant this guy.

“Well, I’m un-arranging the date.” I give him a quick smile. “Sorry, but thanks for the thought. It’s nothing personal. I’m just not interested in dating while I’m here. I guess my grandmother didn’t realize that.”

“I understand.” He turns and walks off.

I shut the door and lean back against it. Crap. The last thing I need is for Muumu to become involved in my pathetic love life, especially when I can’t explain to her why it’s so pathetic. That goes well beyond my Finnish skills.

Heck, it goes beyond my English skills, too.

I wait five minutes, my back against the door, before peeling myself away from it. Once I’m positive no one is out there, I open the door and peer over the metal railing to check the ground floor. The coast is clear.

At the cafe, I order a Diet Coke, sit in the far corner, and turn on my laptop. Claire responded to my email from yesterday, bemoaning, once again, that she has to wait forever to talk to me due to my WiFi situation. She has a million questions about Kyle.

I tell her what I can, which is nothing, and switch topics.

You know the soap The Endless Circle? I swear there’s a guy here who looks like one of the actors. He plays Eric Kincaid. He’s hot.

And my grandmother is trying to set me up with him,
I type
.
I imagine Claire laughing at that. And then after she’s finished laughing, she’ll decide it’s a great idea if it means I’ll experience a steamy romance while I’m here. Anything to help me get over Ian and his death.

Correction. Anything to help me get past what he did to me. I’m long over what we had together, which wasn’t what I thought it was. Not like back in high school when we were dating and he meant everything to me, and I thought I meant everything to him. We had even discussed our futures, which included both of us in each other’s. Silly me.

Once I’ve finished my email to her, I surf the Internet, update my social media sites…and look up the cast of
The Endless Circle
.

According to one website, the actor who plays Eric is Brad McKinney. Not even close to a Finnish name, so there goes the theory about them being twins. Unless they were separated at birth.

After I finish, I wander around the neighborhood, the late afternoon sun warm against my bare arms and legs. I approach a wall covered with graffiti. Some words are in English, words you don’t want young kids to read. Others are in Finnish or another language I can’t read. Some designs are clumsy, while others are artwork in themselves.

I remove my lens cap from my DSLR camera and shoot photo after photo. I take a few pictures far enough away to capture most of the graffiti in the frame, including the surrounding concrete wall. Others are shot from a closer angle, so the design isn’t recognizable. All you see are abstract colors and patterns. I get lost in those patterns, the contrast of curves and harsh edges.

I spend hours shooting close-up photos. The more bizarre and unrecognizable the picture the better. It’s about the minute detail, that singular element so full of meaning, but which is lost in the big picture. It’s the big picture everyone else sees because they’re afraid to look closer, afraid to see the truth. Like how being far from home is messing with my head so I confused Joni for an actor.

The sun’s still shining when I head back to the apartment. That’s the best part about the location of Vantaa latitude-wise. It means more hours of daylight during the summer, so it’s easy to lose track of time.

It’s already after 6:33 p.m. Usually Muumu and I eat around five-thirty, so I know I’ll be in trouble, especially if she knows that I’m not with Joni after all. But really, how much trouble can I be in if I can’t understand her? All I have to do is look sorry and say “
anteeksi
” a few dozen times.

I reach out for the apartment door at the same moment it swings open. I’m not sure who is more shocked—me or Joni. He calls out something over his shoulder that includes my name. As I step inside the apartment, Muumu hustles into the hallway and flings herself at me.

Still hugging me, she speaks in rapid Finnish. I’m not sure who she’s talking to, so I keep quiet.

After the hug fest is over, she turns to Joni, and I notice we’re not alone in the hallway. A woman Muumu’s age, with short white hair and a few extra cookies under her belt like Muumu, takes in the action. When she spots me watching her, she smiles and nods at Joni. I’m not sure how to translate that. It’s either, “Hi. I’m Joni’s grandmother,” or “That’s my grandson and I hope you’ll fall madly in love with him and make me a great-grandmother anytime now.”

I vote for the first option.

“Your grandmother was worried something bad had happened to you,” Joni explains.

Perfect, a translator. No charades for this discussion required. “I’m sorry,” I say to her in Finnish then switch over to English. “I was shooting photos and lost track of time.” I glance at Joni, hoping he gets the hint what I need him to do.

Joni tells her what I said. Or at least I assume he does. For all I know, he just told her I was shooting penguins.

More rapid Finnish from Muumu.

“She was worried you got lost,” he explains.

Muumu gestures at the kitchen and fires off more Finnish, except this time I recognize “
syödä
.” Eat.

And inwardly I groan. Now I get why Joni and his grandmother are here. I shot him down for lunch; now they’re making sure I can’t shoot him down for dinner, too. Double groan.

Since I don’t have many other choices, I sit at my usual spot at the small table, crammed into the equally small kitchen. Mina, the canary, chirps and Muumu coos back at the bird, then she and Joni’s grandmother sit opposite to me, forcing him to sit next to me.

A long, red candle burns in the center of the table. Since when do Muumu and I eat dinner by candlelight? The groan from earlier is back, echoing off my ribs like wind trapped in a tunnel. Why does she have to be so freaking obvious?

While I’m one hundred percent against this plan, I can’t deny that dinner smells amazing. Muumu made fish soup with chunks of salmon and vegetables in a milk broth. The dinner tastes great, and the company isn’t bad either. I mean, other than when the meddling grandmothers keep asking Joni and me questions. Joni is forced to translate, and it’s clear their questions are nothing more than a weak attempt to push us together through conversation. The kind of conversation you have during a first date.

“If you were a frog, what kind would you be?” Joni translates for his grandmother.

My mouth flops open for a second so I look like a frog, which wasn’t the look I was aiming for. Our grandmothers watch my reaction with great interest, leaning forward, eyebrows raised, and I get the feeling they weren’t the ones who asked me the frog question. If it weren’t for the mischief in Joni’s eyes, I never would’ve guessed the truth: he did it on purpose.

“An extremely bouncy kind,” I say, struggling to keep a straight face.

I wish I could understand what he said, because whatever it was appeases the two women. They grin and nod at each other. If I wasn’t in front of them, I expect they would be rubbing their hands in glee at their attempts at match making.

“What did you say to them?” I ask.

“That you want to have fifty kids,” he says with the same mischievous glint as before.

“Really?”

“Well, more like five.”

I’m not sure what I want to do more—laugh or glare at him. Laughter wins, mostly because of his expression.

“You think I’m funny,” he says. “Does that mean you will now go out with me?”

The laughter in me dies and I shake my head. “I don’t date. Been there. Done that. No thanks.”

Muumu speaks then gestures at him to translate what she said.

“Your grandmother believes that love makes us strong.”

Focusing on my soup, I shake my head again. “No, it doesn’t. Love makes us weak. And it makes us blind to what others see.” During the last few months of my relationship with Ian, I knew he was cheating on me. He was on the football team and I suspected he was fooling around during their away games. I had brushed it off because I’d convinced myself that he still loved me. It was only recently that I realized I’d been too scared to let him go because it meant I’d be alone. And being with him was better than being alone.

Inwardly I snort at how stupid I was for thinking that. Being alone is better than risking your heart.

Joni chuckles. “You might have a point. But I don’t think our grandmothers agree with us.”

Both our grandmothers are beaming. I get the feeling neither plan to give up on this scheme to get me together with Joni.