COMPLETED. A university student. A professional hockey player. They've proved they can be friends. Can they be more?
Although they're both in their early twenties and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, their lives couldn't be more different. Cami...
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"Tell me something about yourself."
The paper cup was only a centimeter from my lips, so I decided to take a sip of the warm, sweet liquid, let it travel down my throat, and settle in my stomach before I answered Taylor. All the concession stands and coffee shops in the arena were closed, as there was no game going on, but Taylor took me to the far wing of the arena. That was where the executive and management offices were, he told me, and there was a small café tucked among them. The hot chocolate at five bucks for a medium wasn't cheap by any means, but it was well worth it. Even though Taylor bought it for me—he flashed his card before I could even get my wallet out of my purse—I would gladly spend my own cash on it.
"What do you want to know?"
Taylor's head cocked to the side. We were sitting in the stands of the lower level, but unlike the patrons of a Storm game, we didn't have to drop a couple hundred each to be here. He was sitting one row below me, in a seat to my right with his body angled to mine and mine to his.
"I don't know," he finally said. "A lot of things, I guess. Let's start with how long you've lived in Winnipeg."
Oh. That was an easy question.
"All my life. I wish there was a more interesting answer, but there's just not. I was born here and am still here, obviously."
When I looked at Taylor, I wasn't expecting to see him eyeing me with a quizzical expression.
"Why do you sound self-conscious about it? What's wrong with living in Winnipeg?"
I shrugged. "I don't have an issue with Winnipeg, per se. It's perfectly fine. Hot in the summer, cold in the winter. Not a ton to do, which means the city really loves its hockey team."
"But?"
Taylor took off his Storm hat, curled a piece of black hair behind his ear and placed the garment back on his head.
But...I don't know.
Taylor wasn't far off with his accusations, but it was hard to verbalize my feelings.
"Well, I still live at home, with my parents, for one thing. And I think that's starting to bother me. Like there's an age where it's socially acceptable to still be at home and I've long surpassed that."
I usually didn't admit that to people. Instead, I had a tendency to inquire about other people's living situations, no matter how nosy it may make me look to relative strangers. Each time I found someone who moved out from home, my heart tended to sink. When I found others in a similar situation, I felt validated. I knew I was probably making a bigger deal than necessary about the whole thing, but I couldn't help it.
My eyes travelled to the floor where a flattened piece of pink gum lay next to my boot. I moved my foot away from it, not wanting to be one of the hundreds, if not thousands, who've already stepped on it.
