After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Spencer
Playoffs saturate the air while the world turns green.
In the middle of May, I'm happy to see a difference in the landscape. Instead of grey and brown, I see vibrant greens and pinks and yellows. The sky is blue for over three days a week, and I'm no longer in need of a toque or gloves. Everywhere I go, the air smells like spring; something fresh with hints of lilac and musk. Every so often, I catch a whiff of deep fried food from a nearby food truck. That's just what happens when you live in a city.
Today, I'm meeting Amelia at our favourite coffee shop to pass along the tickets for tonight's game, as well as tell her the good news about my sample manuscript. After a month-and-a-half of metaphorically biting my nails, I received a request for the full version. I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but the excitement coursing through my veins is making me burst at the seams. Plus, I can't wait to see Amelia's reaction. She's going to lose her shit. After telling me she was right, of course.
She was right. I had nothing to worry about. My manuscript hasn't been accepted or anything, but to me, receiving a request for the full version is enough. Even if they end up turning it down, I'll still be happy because it means someone out there liked my book. And if I can find another person who'll like it, maybe they'll like it enough to publish it.
Additionally, Chase has given me the green light to tell Amelia about his contract and the upcoming season. And you can bet I'm pouncing on every opportunity to brag about my boyfriend.
As I push through the door, a little bell rings. My eyes scan the quaint coffee shop for Amelia and I spot her next to the window. It overlooks a courtyard, where the flowers are blossoming and a small urban playground is. There are a few kids climbing it, with the parents lingering around the perimeter. The coffee shop itself is very plant parent-ish. Several plants line the accent wall parallel to each other, and they meet the colour scheme with light greys and shades of green. The menu itself is on a large chalkboard above the working space.
It looks like Amelia's been here for a while because there's an empty mug near the edge of the table. As well as a half-eaten pastry. There are also two steaming mugs of coffee and a wrapped slice of carrot cake. She has an open book propped against her large, bright-yellow Yeti water bottle. Today, Amelia's wearing a cream-coloured pantsuit that contrasts against her skin. Her hair is piled atop her head in a curly bun and her lips are painted a deep plum.
"Hey," I say, joining her at the table. Sunlight brightens up the space, and I can feel the warmth on my face. "Sorry I'm late. I was enjoying the sunshine a little too much."
Amelia holds up one finger. I grab my coffee and lean back, smiling. We're so alike in the sense that we hate it when people assume reading doesn't account for being busy. It's like people asking questions during a movie when you'll get the answer soon enough: unnecessary.
