Looking for You (Oh Captain, My Captain 1)

Sighing, I tell her what happened. “I told her what I majored in and she came to that conclusion.”

“And you didn’t refute it?” Her voice drips with disbelief.

“Sort of?”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?”

“My exact words were: I guess you could call me that. But anyway, I don’t know what she thought about my hoodie. She didn’t ask about it and she says she doesn’t follow sports at all.”

Whitney folds her arms over her chest as well and leans back in her chair, eyeing me suspiciously. “I don’t believe it,” she finally says. “Your clothes were evidence enough. How does she not know, Hudson?”

I feel like I should defend her. “Because she was actually telling the truth and really doesn’t care about sports? Whit, she thought my last name was Hudson and when I told her what it really is, there were no signs of recognition at all. She doesn’t know. I don’t want to tell her either.”

“Okay,” she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, “let’s say for a moment that she honestly doesn’t know. Just because you

don’t want to tell her, doesn’t mean that is a reason not to tell her. You’re already messing it up by omitting the basics of information.”

Her words brew in my mind. She’s partly right. Something so basic as my job, shouldn’t be so difficult to tell someone. But it isn’t like I have a regular desk job either. Before I can answer her, a girl walks up to our table, excuses herself, and then asks for an autograph with a ridiculous grin on her face. She’s really excited about me being here. I sign her paper and when she walks away, I look at Whitney, who has a smug smile on her face.

“See? You aren’t even in Portland, Hudson. I still think she has to know something at least.”

Narrowing my eyes at her, I ignore her comment. “There is something I want your opinion on. She’s a shy girl, like really shy. Ellie blushes at the littlest things.” I pause, debating if I should actually tell her about the almost-kiss. “She tripped and when I caught her, I went to kiss her and she turned her head so fast her ponytail whipped forward and hit me. I don’t know. She seems to plan for every possible ‘what if’ and she was that shy to turn away from me. I have been giving her a kiss on the cheek, though, and when I didn’t because I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or anything, she kissed me. On the cheek,” I add. Whitney is trying not to laugh, probably over the kissing mishap. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Are you telling me that you are so used to girls throwing themselves at you, that you honestly don’t know what to do with a girl who has decent morals?” She raises her brows to dare me to object to what she said.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Whitney smiles like she has an evil plan. “I think the only way I can help you with your girl problems is to meet her myself.”

“No,” I interrupt before she can go any further. “You would scar her for life! The answer is hell no, Whit.”

“Oh, c’mon, Hudsy.” She laughs, and if she thinks she can convince me by teasing me with my mother’s nickname for me, it’s not going to work. “But seriously, I can help you better if I meet her and see what she’s like for myself.”

I groan. I really, really think this is a bad idea. But when she adds that she won’t give me her opinion on this at all anymore, I mumble, “Fine.” Whitney grins victoriously, but before she can say anything, I add, “You, under no circumstance, can talk about hockey. Understood? Ellie isn’t going to find out from you.”

Whitney nods and my stomach sinks. This isn’t going to turn out well. I need advice though. I still don’t think I should tell Ellie just yet either. She seems to like me as I am to her right now, not to mention what she said about pro players is ingrained into my mind. Telling her would alter her perception of me, and I’m not ready to let that go. We’re having fun. Why mess that up?

We spend the rest of dinner talking about Whitney and her schoolwork. I pay for dinner and on the way to her house, she asks when she’s going to be able to meet Ellie. Instinct tells me to say never ever ever. Instead, I tell her that I’ll let her know. The entire drive home, I’m wondering how in the world I’m going to be able to pull this off.

~

Our game tonight is at home, one of my favorite places to play. Home games have such a different atmosphere than away games. Our fans are here and they are loud, excited, and greedy for some hockey. One way to explain it is that it’s like having a ton of clones of my mom, my biggest fan, cheering us on. Moms are always the loudest, the most outspoken, and the best fans ever. Playing home games with our fans is sort of like that. So when we skate out onto the ice, the arena erupts with screams, clapping, and so much noise. Happiness settles in my heart. This is where I’m supposed to be. This is home.

My mind pushes Ellie, my sister and how she’s supposed to meet her, and every other thing but hockey out of my mind. Nothing exists but the sounds of skates slicing into the ice, pucks being hit by sticks, some deflecting loudly off the glass or the posts.

Tonight, we’re playing the Indiana Mustangs and their captain is Brody Ross. Talk about focusing on the game, that guy is serious and focused when he steps onto the ice. I met him once and he was pretty easy going and funny, the complete opposite during a game. It should be a good, tough match up.

They are a force to be reckoned with and the game flies by too quickly with a 2-0 loss. When I finally make it home, my phone lights up with a missed text from Ellie. I change, fall into my bed, and then text her back.

Me: Sorry, just getting home. Have a good day?

Part of me thinks that Ellie is a really innocent girl and she’s probably already in bed. She proves me wrong when she responds.

Ellie: It was a day. You?

Me: Could have been better.

A win would have been really nice. My thumbs hover over the unfinished text. Might as well get this over with.