Thorn Ch. 04

Monday, October 31, 2022

~

Biting the nail of my right hand, I was sitting at my desk, studying the schedule of the hockey team of Eric's school.

I was supposed to be transcribing data about payments made to organisations, but I was just too caught up in what Aaron had told me the previous night.

They were playing next Friday. I bit my nail harder.

The header of the web page was a photo of the team. Some of the members looked so young... but there he was, helmet off, grinning proudly. Right there in the center, scruff on his chin.

Team Captain : Aaron Adamik.

Of course. Of course the boy who had bullied my child had it all. Captain of the hockey team, probably successful with the girls. I felt a momentary flush of shame and anger at myself for even considering going. But then again...

Then again what? He hadchanged? He had been nice to me one time?

The worst part of it all was I knew those were just cheap excuses. At the end of the day, he was...

He was... unbelievably charming. But no. I couldn't go. I wouldn't go.

I jumped when Summer barged in my cubicle, and I had to quickly change tabs so she wouldn't see what I was looking at.

"So, what was up with that dance with your son's friend?! You two seemed pretty close! Are you banging him on the side?"

"Summer!" I heard Reuben. "Please stay professionnal during work hours!"

Summer giggled and put a finger in front of her mouth.

"So?" she whispered.

I rolled my eyes and got up to get coffee from the coffee machine, Summer hot on my trail.

"I am notbangingthat kid, Summer," I said as I paid for my cup of coffee.

"That would be scandalous indeed. Then why did you look like that when you were dancing with him?"

"He's just... a good friend of the family, okay? Eric knows him since they were six."

"So Eric's underage friends are sneaking in bars?Scan-da-lous!"

"Summer," Angela groaned as she approached the machine to get her own cup of coffee. "Could you leave Holly alone?"

"What? Aren't you curious too?"

Angela shot me a look, and I knew she was thinking about my breakdown in the taxi.

"She's clearly not fucking someone her son's age," Angela defended me. "She has more refined taste."

I shot a quick look at Cody, who was working in his cubicle, visible from the coffee machine. He was visibly listening in, and he looked miserable. I felt bad, after basically rejecting him that night at the bar. Every mention of me possibly fucking Aaron seemed like it shot him through the chest.

Faith, attracted to the gossip like a bee to a flower, as usual, slithered her way in the conversation.

"Are we talking about the young man with the wide shoulders from our Halloween night?"

"Discussion is over," I said, grabbing my coffee and walking to my cubicle.

I heard Faith and Summer giggling behind me and sighed, laying my coffee down on my desk before reaching for an elastic and tying back my hair.

If this was how all day was gonna go, I might as well put some earbuds in and listen to music.

I managed to get some work in for an hour and a half, but then the data I needed to transcribe was on the behalf of a hockey team coach. That alone made me curious again, and I opened the tab with Aaron's team's schedule again. I opened my calendar on my phone, making sure I was free on Friday evening.

The skin of my back started prickling, so I turned around. Angela was standing with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, staring at the hockey team schedule and then at me.

"We need to talk," Angela said.

♾️

We met for lunch. It was discreet, and neither Faith nor Summer followed us as we entered a small café. Angela ordered chicken paninis for the both of us and we sat down at a table.

"He's a family friend," I insisted as soon as Angela crossed her arms and raised her brows, awaiting a response. "Of course I'm going to his hockey game."

"Holly Fisher," she said. "What are the names of this guy's parents?"

I stumbled, immediately put off-guard.

"Shauna and Thomas," I said quickly, almost quickly enough to be believable.

"You are a damn good liar," Angela muttered.

"He's just a friend!" I protested. "Nothing more!"

"Holly, he's ahigh-schooler."

I winced. The words hit me like a dart. I hadn't wanted to even mentally verbalize the wordshigh school. Sure, Aaron was a man, an adult, but...high school.

"I am notfuckinghim!" I hissed in a whisper. "I am not attracted to him!"

"Then why were you crying in the taxi?"

I sighed and took a frustrated bite of my panini before answering.

"What I'm going to tell you must not leave this room. Do you understand?"

Angela leaned forward.

"I'm listening."

"Promise me, Angela. This is serious."

"Jesus, Hols. Okay, I promise."

Part of me was offended that I was telling Angela before Kathryn, but I didn't really have a choice. It had to get out of my head, or I would die.

"Aaron Adamik. That's his name. He's... he used to bully my son."

Angela blinked, taking in my words.

"You... are you serious?"

"Angela, you have to understand, nothing is happening between us. I hate this kid. I do, I hate him!"

Angela said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes.

Emotion washed over me again.

"Angela, he's... he's cruel, he's arrogant. But he apologized, and he stopped giving Eric a hard time."

"Do you hear yourself?" Angela suddenly interrupted me. "Holly!"

"Iknow! I know! I'm just... I'm exhausted, Angela. I'm lonely. I'mso lonely. There is nothing going on between Aaron and I. If anything, we're friends."

"Friends! Holly, he's a high-schooler!"

"I did everything I could to stop seeing him. I never wanted to have anything to do with him. Life keeps putting me on his path, and then he's nice, kind, thoughtful, and it makes it impossible for me to hate him, and..."

"But he bullied Eric, right?"

"He stopped! I... I'm not saying I want anything to do with him. If I never saw him again, I would be very happy."

"You're so good at lying you're lying to yourself, Holly. That hockey schedule you were looking at. That's him, right?"

I sighed. I truly had nothing to say. Guilt was hammering my ribcage in the rhythm of my heartbeat.

"Look," Angela said. "I'm just saying... be careful, Hols. You're vulnerable right now, and I know how easy it is to slip into something that's good for us in the moment when you feel like it's all you have."

I nodded tightly. Angela had cheated on her husband before they had divorced. She knew what she was talking about.

"I'm not telling you not to go to that hockey game. I'm telling you to be careful."

I nodded again.

"Maybe... maybe seeing him on the ice, the way he is at school... maybe seeing the bully in him is gonna help," I tried to rationalize.

Angela smiled softly. "Maybe. I hope so."

♾️

Friday, November 4th, 2022

~

The interior of the arena was just as cold, if not colder than the exterior air. I made my way through the stands, finding a seat next to fangirls who spoke quickly and excitedly about the upcoming match.

"Have you talked to Aaron before the game?!" one of them said.

"No... I didn't show up to that Halloween night with him."

Oh. That must be that girl, who had stood him up... Ellie? Helen?

"Knew it," said another one. Looking over at her, I recognized the girl with the braids who had called me a MILF in the school hallway. I reminded myself of the reason why I was here : I needed to see how much of a monster Aaron truly was. A bully, a tyrant.

"You told me to make him want me by being unavailable!" the Ellie girl defended herself. "Was I supposed to just go with him?"

"You don't stand him up after agreeing to meet him! You just say you aren't free, you stupid bitch! Why are you even here?"

The vulgarity rang in my ears.

"I thought maybe he'd forgive me if I showed up to his game!"

"No chance. He'll just move on to the next."

If they were gonna talk like that during the whole game... I considered getting up to pay for a hot-dog, but the lights in the arena dimmed.

The announcer started speaking, introducing the team. I tightened my cardigan on my shoulders, nervous.

"Number eighty-five, captain of the team, Aaron, Adamik!"

Aaron skated onto the rink, waving at the crowd with the hand holding his stick.

He had his helmet in his gloved hand, his characteristic wide grin adorning his face. His gazed roved through the crowd, like he wanted to absorb every face. The hockey season would be his last before going to college, and if I were him, I'd be trying to enjoy every moment with my teammates.

Aaron, in his white, black and sky blue hockey jersey, eventually turned to me.

When he saw that I was sitting, his grin momentarily dimmed in surprise, but then...

Then hewinked. He winked at me.

I blushed,hard.

The girls next to me were freaking out.

"He winked at me! He forgave me!" Ellie was squealing.

Aaron turned his eyes away from me. A heat was building in my chest, and... lower in my body. That wink had been like dynamite.

He was sotall.

Ugh. So much for hating him.

How could I get closure if I got wet just looking at him?

It turned out I wasn't the only one. He skated effortlessly, floating on the ice as he joined his teammates. Braids-girl was trying to calm Ellie down, next to me.

Her squealing was probably the most annoying thing I had ever heard. What did it say about me that we were both fantasizing about the same guy and I was twice her age?

The opposite team was introduced afterward, wearing white and green jerseys. I barely paid attention to them, focusing on the bump of Aaron's Adam's apple as he put his helmet on. He was talking to his teammates, presumably about strategy (I had no clue how hockey worked, and James had never been much of a sports guy).

"He wasn't winking atyou, idiot!" Braids was saying. "He probably saw another girl when you stood him up!"

"Don't say that!" Ellie was horrified.

The game started, and Aaron immediately set himself apart from any other player. He was aggressive, extremely fast and very precise. It was as though he weaved through his opponents, spinning and slicing the ice with his skates, creating short-lived clouds of icy dust whenever he made a sharp turn.

He wasn't especially defensive ; he stayed in the other team's zone, and once he caught the puck from his teammates, there was no stopping him. He scored once, then twice in the span of ten minutes.

I found myself getting drunk on the atmosphere of the arena : the roaring cheer of the crowd, the loud buzzer noises when a player scored, the smell of popcorn and sweat. I clapped impulsively whenever Aaron scored, and smiled against my will.

At one point, the captain of the other team made one of Aaron's teammates trip. Aaron was on him a breath later, pulling off his gloves to punch the guy.

I stood up with the crowd when the other guy, number eight, punched Aaron's helmet straight off his head. My heart tightened with worry. Aaron's hair was a curly mess, and his expression was a snarl. The two young men got locked in the fight, with Aaron shouting something I didn't hear. The referee whistled sharply, and Aaron was quickly pulled off of the ice by a couple of officials.

My heart was beating fast. I couldn't even hear the exclamations coming from the girls next to me. I saw Aaron, blood coming out of his lip, arguing vehemently with his coach, who seemed furious. The crowd was agitated, some booing for reasons I couldn't parse. The player from the opposite team was also taken off the ice, presumably for having tripped the other player in the first place.

Aaron was covered in sweat, his curls plastered to his forehead. He was glaring at the ground, jaw tight, a thin stream of blood running down his mouth, reminiscent of his vampire costume. He sat on the bench of the penalty box until the referee called for a 'game misconduct', sending Aaron away into the dressing room. The booing from the crowd got even louder, but quieted down when the other player was similarly dismissed.

There it was : that proof that Aaron was nothing but a violent, impulsive high school student with big dreams and a childish way of resolving issues ; his fists. This is what I had been looking for, to get closure on the way I had been feeling about him.

The thing was... he had only done it to protect his teammate. And God knew I loved men who stood up for their closed ones. The heat in my body hadn't gone down. If anything, it had gone up.

Realizing I was completely uninterested in the rest of the game if Aaron wasn't on the ice, I stood up and made my way out of the arena and into hallways leading to the bathroom.

Nothing could've prepared me for the surprise I had when I entered the empty hallways. I must have gotten lost somewhere in the players-only hallway, because Aaron was there, drinking from the water fountain next to the restroom. He didn't have a shirt on, his body glistening with sweat. I stopped right in my tracks, eyes widening.

Aaron's upper body was a marvel. I had trouble understanding how an eighteen-year-old could look so manly.

His pectoral muscles were large, hard planes. A shadow of subtle, dark body hair spread on them, made more visible by the sweat that was matting it. His nipples were wide and pink.

His stomach... gosh. The sharp ridges of abdominal muscles... the flurry of hair around his navel, leading down in a trail toward the V of his lower abdomen, toward his waistband...

"Holly! Hey! You came!"

My eyes roved back to his face. His green eyes were wrinkled from his smile. His upper lip had a nasty red cut that wasn't bleeding anymore.

I gulped. "Hi."

"Sorry for the no-shirt situation," he smiled sheepishly. "Was hot."

I nodded slowly. "You... that was a heck of a fight," I said.

His smile half-faded. "Yeah. Fucking coach wouldn't stop yelling at me. It was pretty stupid of me, but... Healy didn't deserve to be boarded like that. You don't fuck with my friends, you know?"

I nodded again, unable to find anything to say, focused on not looking at the boy's body and his defined trapezius muscles.

"You, uh... you should come over. To my apartment. I have to get back to the dressing room, to have a chat with the rest of the team, but... I'll be heading home afterward. You should come. We could... talk. I feel like I need to explain myself about Eric and... about everything."

I froze. My heart was beating furiously, like a caged beast. What was he suggesting? That I, a grown woman, go to his place? He knew I was in a weakened state, right now.

He noticed my hesitation, and his smile twisted into a crooked smirk.

"1426, Goshawk street. Apartment 303. See you in a few hours?"

Just a conversation. A talk.

Unable to breathe or think, all I could do was nod.

His grin widened. "Good. Can't wait."

He made his way past me, to the arena's dressing room.

Standing there, alone, I finally exhaled.

"Fuck!" I swore, out loud.

♾️

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

What the fuck was I doing here?

The door number loomed, ominous. 303.

Aaron hadn't said anything implicit. We were just here to talk. Talk about Eric.Good. I could tell him I wanted nothing to do with him, that as long as he left Eric alone, there was no reason to see each other again.

I gulped and closed my eyes for a second, gathering the courage to knock. When I finally did, the anxiety was like a knot in my throat.

I heard his footsteps before the door opened, letting me see him. He was wearing a navy blue hoodie and grey sweatpants. His hair was wet, probably from a recent shower. I could tell from where I was standing that he smelled nice.

He was, unsurprisingly, grinning.

"Holly. I'm glad to see you! Come in."

I gave him a tight smile and entered his apartment.

It was... exactly like I thought it would be. Eighteen-year-old males didn't tend to have a very refined sense of taste. The walls were white, decoration barebones. The living room and the kitchen shared a space, with a hallway to the right presumably leading to his bedroom and bathroom.

There were some hockey posters strung up on the walls, and his gear was in a pile by the hallway.Thatmust not have smelled nice.

There was a pizza box on the square living room table, dirty cardboard plates and beer and soda cans on the kitchen counter, neatly pressed together.

"Hope you don't mind the mess," he muttered, scratching his neck.

I couldn't help but giggle a bit. "You had all this time to clean up and couldn't find a way to put it away?"

"Honest, I just got out of the shower. I wasn't wearing pants when you knocked."

His smirk widened. The littlefuck.

"Do not flirt with me," I told him. "I don't even know why I'm here..."

"To talk. Like we said."

He led me to a wooden dining room table speckled with old water rings. The table was awkwardly placed near the kitchen counter, at a slight diagonal.

"You could really use an interior designer," I commented while we sat.

He beamed at me. "Maybe you could help."

"Let's... please, let's stop assuming that you and I are going to see each other again. I'm just here to talk. You bullied my son. I don'tlikeyou."

"I understand. I wouldn't like me either if I were you. But thank you for hearing me out anyway."

I glared at him. His fingers tapped on the table, restless, until he got up.

"Want something to drink?" he asked. "I've got wine."

"Water, please," I said. I was not getting drunk in his presence again.

When he came with my glass of water, I thanked him quietly as he sat back down.

"It was fun, that Halloween party."

"Get to the point, Aaron. Why did you bully Eric?"

He looked genuinely uncomfortable, and, knowing he couldn't escape my questioning anymore, his smile dissipated completely. I puffed out my chest, feeling like a good mother for once.

"When I was five years old, my dad told me something that stuck with me, I think. We were watching hockey on TV with his friends, and that guy just scored an amazing shot. I was sitting on my dad's lap, and he kinda... shook my shoulders. He said, 'Look, boy. That's gonna be you someday. You're gonna crush 'em all. I'm gonna make sure of it.'"

I interrupted him, "If you think you can come clean with some cliché sob story about your father, you can keep it," I said. "That doesn't excuse what you did to my son."

"What I did? You... I worked hard for everything I have. This apartment. The old truck. The hockey team. Heck, you think it's easy, being this popular?"

I scoffed. "Woe is you."

"Every conversation is an excuse to be liked. Every friendship I have, every girl I've kissed, I've worked for. And it's..."

He stopped himself. I let him get a grip on himself. Something was clearly working him up. I had never imagined Aaron Adamik being this emotional.

"It's never enough," he eventually said. "Never enough for him." His gaze left mine, dropping down to the table where he was scratching at what looked like a dried-up ketchup stain.

"For your dad?" I ventured.

He nodded. "When I tell him I got kicked out of the game... he'll freak. He'll say I'm ruining my chances to play in college."

I sighed. "And that justifies what?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he said immediately, his eyes meeting mine again. "It's not about excusing. Eric, he's... he's a loser, Holly. He doesn't work, he doesn'tdo anything."

I bristled. "I'm going to go, now."

I moved to get up, but Aaron snarled an insistent "Listen," and I stopped moving.

"I don't think it's right. What I did. It was calculated to... I don't know. I like it, being top dog. And Eric made me feel like there was something in life that I didn't get. Because at the end of every single day, he still comes home to you. He doesn't know how lucky he has it. I thought, I still think, that pushing him around a bit could make him see that he's taking everything he has for granted. But I don't think it's right. I don't think it's who I want to be."