Reflections on Ice Ch. 01

"What'd he say?" Seth asked from Dylan's other side as they made their way through the crowd, a bigger crowd than Dylan would have guess would be here on a Wednesday night.

"That he's a dumb-ass."

Seth laughed. "We knew that already."

Dylan grinned and followed his teammate to the bar. They ordered beers all around and once Tristen got his, he slithered through the crowd, heading straight for the dance floor.

"What a nut." Seth shook his head as they watched their most outgoing teammate join the throng of people dancing.

"I don't know how he does it." And I wish I did. Dylan took a swig of his beer. He would give his right arm for a sliver of Tristen's confidence.

"Oh Jesus." Jake turned away from the sunken dance floor. "He's making a fool of himself."

Behind him, Tristen was jumping up and down, an ear-to-ear grin on his face as the women around him laughed at his antics.

John hooted. "A fool who now has that one eating out of his hand."

Jake turned to look and sure enough, Tristen now had one arm around the waist of a cute blond, who held on to his shoulders as the beat and song changed.

"Son of a bitch." Jake shook his head as the others laughed.

They moved away from the bar, clearing room for others to order. They slowly migrated through the crowd to a couple of tall tables near the railing surrounding the dance floor.

"That was a tough game tonight." Jake leaned his elbows on the table.

Seth and Dylan nodded in agreement.

"We can't let the Coyotes get away with anything on Friday night." Seth turned his bottle around in place on the table. "The Sabres were setting us up for penalties, left and right."

"Tell me about it." Jake rubbed his chin. "I can't believe I got called for tripping."

"Are you guys talking about the game?" John leaned in. At their nods, he scoffed. "Come on. It's a win. Stop whining about all the things that went wrong."

Jake glared at his brother. "One day, those things that went wrong could be the reason we don't win."

"But not today." John held his bottle up and Seth clinked his bottle against it.

The music soared for a long minute, drowning out any conversation and they turned to see how their teammate was doing. Tristen had moved away from the center of the dance floor and they couldn't see him at first.

"There he is." Dylan pointed.

Tristen and the blond he'd been dancing with were standing at the opposite corner of the dance floor, heads bent together as they conversed.

Dylan shook his head. "How does he do it?"

The guys around him laughed. Seth gave him a soft punch to the shoulder. "Come on, Sams. You know how it is."

Dylan turned to look at his teammates.

"You say 'hi' to a girl, and buy her a drink."

Jake nodded in agreement. "If she doesn't want a drink, then you ask her to dance."

"And while you're dancing, you don't look at anyone else," John added. "Even if there's a skin showing on all sides, you just keep your eyes on her, and keep dancing with her."

"And then, bam." Seth jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Tristen's direction. "At the end of the song, you get her number."

Dylan followed Seth's gesture and smiled as he saw the blond writing on Tristen's arm. "I'll be damned."

The others laughed at his amazement. Dylan downed the rest of his beer. They made it all sound so easy. He was lucky if he could get the 'hi' out of his mouth in the first minute. After that, it was a toss-up that he'd say the wrong thing, or nothing at all, and the woman would sure as hell move on long before he could summon the courage to offer a drink or dance.

"I'm getting another beer. Anyone want one?"

Jake nodded, but Seth and John were still nursing theirs.

"Be right back."

Dylan wove his way through the crowd back to the bar. He had to stand at one end for several minutes before the bartender noticed him. While he stood there, he observed the people around him.

Everyone was talking, or shouting really, over the noise of the music. Some were groups of women together, some men-women pairs, and pretty much everyone looked like they were having fun. As if a Wednesday night was the perfect time to meet someone.

Dylan lifted a foot to the rail that ran along the bottom of the bar, and leaned an elbow on the surface. He strained to hear the conversation between the man and woman next to him, wondering if he could learn anything, but he couldn't hear anything over the sound of the music. He already knew the things he could say, or do, but he could never execute. And he sure as hell couldn't tell his teammates his troubles with talking to the opposite sex.

He hadn't always been so tongue-tied and awkward. In grade school, he'd had girlfriends, and friends who were girls, and he'd never had trouble talking or joking around with them. As he got a little older, in high school, most of his time was taken up with hockey practice, games, and training, and the girls got a whole lot prettier. He tried to date, and some girls went out with him, but he'd get the same feedback all the time: he didn't talk to them, and getting him to say anything personal was like pulling teeth.

In college, he fared a little better, managing more than a few dates and hook-ups, but he still couldn't grasp that confident, easy-going manner that his roommate had with women. It hadn't helped that he'd spent more of his time on books and studying, practice and games, than on meeting women. By the time he'd started paying attention to his dating status, he'd been drafted and that was that.

When someone shouted his name, he swiveled around to see Tristen coming towards him.

"Order me another, would you?"

Dylan nodded. "The bartender hasn't even looked my way yet."

Tristen shrugged and leaned his arms on the bar beside Dylan. "You gonna get out there?"

"Are you kidding?" Dylan grinned and shook his head. "I'm no dancer, you know that."

"Neither am I." Tristen held up his arm, displaying the numbers scrawled there. "And look what it got me."

"Do you even know her name?"

For a moment, Tristen's smile slipped as he considered. "Lisa. Uh, Lola. No... yeah, I'm sure it was Lola."

Dylan rolled his eyes. Call him crazy and old-fashioned, but he wanted more than a hastily written phone number.

As the bartender finally approached, Dylan leaned over the bar to shout their orders. He went ahead and got a bottle for everyone, figuring the other guys would be finished theirs by the time he made it back to the table.

"Come on, man. She had a couple really cute friends." Tristen grabbed three bottles, as Dylan paid and picked up the other three. "They're coming around to the table."

Awesome. Dylan sighed as he followed Tristen back to the table, where there were indeed two cute friends standing with the blond, and the rest of their teammates.

One of the women, smiling with short dark hair, leaned close to Dylan after Tristen had introduced them all.

"I'm Phoebe."

Dylan smiled and nodded.

"And you're Dylan."

He nodded again, sipping his beer. God, he had a hard enough time in a neutral environment, never mind trying to carry on a conversation via shouts in a crowded, humid nightclub.

When he still didn't say anything, Phoebe moved closer. "I'm a hair dresser."

"That's nice." Yup. Right on par with his usual inane comments.

Her brow wrinkled at his response. "And what do you do?"

Over her shoulder, Tristen caught his eye and gave him a pointed look. Dylan scowled in return, a look that made Phoebe take a step back.

"Are you guys all here for a birthday or something?"

Dylan felt really bad, the longer this went on, with Phoebe gamely trying to start a conversation. He couldn't do it. He could barely manage it under normal circumstances. He downed his beer, and turned to go.

"I've got to go. It was nice meeting you, Phoebe."

She looked puzzled by his abrupt exit, but not upset. Dylan waved at his teammates and left before anyone could stop him.

Outside, he looked up at the stars and took several deep breaths of the fresh air. It was crisp tonight, and he was glad for it. It had been too hot in the club. He didn't even know why he'd agreed to go. As he turned to head to his truck, he hoped Tristen didn't bring his new friend home with him. Their apartment wasn't tiny by any stretch, and they had their own private areas, but he really didn't want to wake up and make small talk with a woman in the morning.

Once he got in his car, and turned the key in the ignition, he realized he didn't want to go home. He drove in wide circles through the blocks surrounding the club for several minutes before making his way out of the area. Before he knew it, he was in a familiar neighborhood. He drove past Tapley's and stopped at a red light next to the Lone Star Diner. At the sight of the blue sign, his mouth watered.

Pie just might salvage the night.

With a smile, he turned at the next light, parked, and walked down the block to the diner. Inside, it was quiet. He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was. They'd finished their game around ten, and he'd been at the club for maybe an hour.

Looking around, he saw that he had his choice of stools or tables. Then he spotted a familiar dark, red head at the end of the bar.

Cassia had her chin resting in an upturned hand, elbow planted on the bar beside her empty plate. She didn't look up when Dylan approached, her eyes on the television mounted in the corner of the diner.

"Hey, sugar." Sally walked over with a pot of coffee. "Welcome back. What can I get you?"

He smiled and held a mug out for coffee. "What kind of pie have you got tonight?"

Cassia swung around to face him, and Dylan smiled at her before looking at Sally.

"Good old apple pie. You want a slice?"

"Yes, please."

Sally nodded and walked off to get it for him.

Dylan turned to Cassia. "Hello, again."

She wasn't smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"I felt like having a piece of pie."

Cassia didn't look like she believed him. She stared at him until he started to feel warm under his collar. Sally returned a moment later, setting a generous slice of pie in front of him.

"Let me know if you need anything else." She turned to Cassia. "How you doin', darlin'?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Sall."

"Sure thing." Sally topped off Cassia's coffee and walked away.

Dylan picked up his fork and started to eat the pie, his eyes almost rolling back in his head at the delicious first bite. Before he knew it, he'd polished off the entire slice, while Cassia turned her attention back to the television. After he finished, he poured some sugar in his coffee and stirred before taking a sip. He could feel Cassia glancing at him again and turned to meet her gaze.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Cassia's lips parted, and Dylan's eyes flicked down to them for a brief second.

"Did you really come for pie?"

Dylan looked down at his empty plate and nodded. "Yes, well, I didn't feel like going home so I figured this was as good a place as any."

When he met her eyes again, she had an unreadable expression on her face.

"I see."

They fell silent again. Unlike earlier, at the club, Dylan didn't feel uncomfortable around Cassia.

"How was the game?"

Startled, Dylan set his mug down. "Game?"

Her brows rose. "Yes. The game. You did have a game tonight, right?"

He nodded. "Right. You said last time you were a fan."

"Of the team." Her response was quick.

Again, he nodded, wondering what that was all about. "Of course. Well, we won. So it was good."

"That is good." Cassia's eyes dropped to her mug. "You guys have had a bad run lately."

"Yes, we have."

"I'm glad you won."

"Did you watch it?"

She shook her head. "No, I was... at a thing."

"A thing? What's 'a thing'."

Lifting her head, she sighed. "It was a thing for my friend's wedding. I'm a bridesmaid, and we had to go for a dress fitting. Then we all had dinner together."

Dylan nodded. Oddly enough, here was something he knew something about. Both his sisters were married, and as the youngest, trapped at home during the planning, he had lived through countless conversations about flowers, fabrics, linens and music. "When is the wedding?"

"The second-last weekend in March."

"And this is the wedding you need a date for."

Her mouth thinned but she nodded. A moment later, she straightened her shoulders and gave him a weak smile. "Anyway, we went to dinner, the bride and all us bridesmaids. Some place near the bridal shop without any TVs. So, no game."

"I'm sure they were disappointed."

Cassia smiled. "Oh yeah. Heartbroken. All us Dallas ladies just can't get enough hockey."

Dylan chuckled. The silence that followed wasn't awkward at all.

"So, how many bridesmaids are there?"

She glanced up at him. "Four. Well, three, plus Janis, the maid of honor."

"Janis, the one who lives across the street and suggested Tapley's First Impressions."

"You remember that?"

He nodded. As much as he wanted to forget large chunks of that night, he recalled with perfect clarity every stilted conversation, including theirs. "What color are the dresses?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you so interested?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything as interesting as dress fittings for a wedding to talk about. It's all on you."

Her expression remained tense, as if she was trying to decide if he was messing with her or not. He wasn't. He wanted her to keep talking, for them to keep talking together, because it was the most relaxed he'd felt in weeks. He didn't know why, he only knew he wanted it to keep going.

"All right." Cassia's face relaxed. "They're black."

Dylan nodded, waiting for her to elaborate. She stared back at him and he smiled.

"Black, and long."

"Strapless or sleeves?"

Cassia let out a short laugh. "Jeez, what, do you plan weddings during the summer months?"

He grinned and shook his head. "No, but I have two older sisters who are both married."

"Sisters." She sighed. "I've got three brothers. I'd have loved having a sister."

"You've got your girlfriends."

"Yes. That's true." She lifted her mug to her lips. "Do you seriously want to hear more about the wedding?"

He nodded. "Why not? Like I said, I've got nothing exciting going on in my life."

Her mouth quirked. "Sure. No All-Star game coming up, or trade deadline, or playoff push."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, but you already know all that. So go on, tell me about the wedding. Unless you want to talk about something else."

"I don't have anything else interesting to talk about either." She shrugged, sipping her coffee. "I broke a nail at work today."

"Damn. I hate when that happens."

Her mouth stretched into a real smile and Dylan returned it. He could get used to how easy this was. Fast.

"So, we have nothing else to talk about except the wedding."

She sighed and nodded. "Story of my life. All right. The dresses are black, and they do have straps, thank God. They also come with these weird flimsy, little sheer wraps. My friend wanted us to have dresses that we could wear again. Who doesn't need a little black dress at some time or another?"

"Can't say I do." Dylan lifted his mug to his mouth while she smirked.

"But at least shoes will be easy to find. She's letting us pick whatever shoes we want." Cassia shifted on her stool, straightening her back with a grimace. "Then all through dinner, everyone talked about how easy it would be for their dates to coordinate with the black dresses."

"They all have dates already?"

Cassia nodded. "Well, my friend Janis, she's engaged, and Carol has been dating her boyfriend for about two years now, and Olivia is already married."

"Wow. So you're the one stuck going to speed dating nights."

"And I'll still end up going to the wedding alone." She made a face. "Ugh, Carol suggested I take my brother, Kyle."

Dylan blinked and burst into laughter. "She did not."

"She did." Cassia's smile turned rueful. "I think she meant well, but I'd much rather go alone then face all the humiliation that would accompany me if I took my brother. I mean, can you imagine it? I've known Vivian all my life, so there's going to be a bunch of people there who already know me and my family, and everyone else would be asking, 'how'd you two meet'?"

"I hope you told her no."

"I didn't have to. Vivian was pretty shocked at the idea too. Although, she may have just wanted to avoid any gossip about possible incest at the reception."

Dylan laughed harder at that.

"I'm glad you're so amused."

"I'm sorry, but it is funny." When he met her eyes, he saw that she wasn't really upset with him.

They fell silent for a moment and Sally stopped by to top up their coffees, and take their empty plates away.

"So there's really no one you can take? No one you've been seeing?"

Cassia shook her head and looked away, the line of her jaw tense. "No. No one."

"Well, the wedding is still two months away. You never know."

Cassia nodded, but said nothing.

After another minute or two of silence, she turned back to him. "Your game must have ended a while ago."

He nodded, stirring more sugar into his coffee.

"And you got here not too long ago."

"Yeah. And?"

"And... what were you doing in between? More speed dating?"

Dylan shuddered. "No."

Cassia waited, an expectant look on her face.

Dylan felt his ears warm up. "Um. Some of the guys wanted to go out, to celebrate the win."

"Ah. I see. So you went to a bar?"

"Yeah. Some place called Spotlight."

"Never heard of it." Cassia rested her elbows on the counter, holding her chin in one hand again. "How was it?"

"Loud. And hot."

Her eyes widened. "Like, a good kind of hot?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No. As in, too many people in too small a space, with no ventilation. That kind of hot."

"And no luck with the ladies?"

Dylan shook his head, but Cassia noticed his momentary hesitation.

"You met someone?"

"No. Well, yes, but not the way you mean." Dylan met her curious gaze and let out a heavy sigh. "Tristen met some girl on the dance floor and she brought her friends over to our table. I talked to one of them but nothing happened."

"Why not?"

Dylan shrugged, looking away.

"Come on, tell me. I promise not to make fun."

He looked back at her. "There's nothing to tell. We met, and I left."

"You left?" She lifted her head, her eyes wide. "Why?"

For a moment, Dylan didn't know what to say. He was back to feeling uncomfortable, but Cassia seemed genuine when she said she wouldn't make fun. "Look, you may or may not have noticed, but I have trouble talking to women."

"Sure, except we're talking right now." Her eyes narrowed. "Does this mean you think I'm not a woman?"

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Good lord, no."

"Then what's the deal?"

This wasn't the first time she'd asked him that and he still didn't know what to tell her. That he'd just never gained the knack for simple small talk? That most women might like that he's a hockey player, but soon grew bored with his one-word answers? That he hadn't been able to share anything meaningful with a woman since he'd been shot down by his first love in college, but still didn't know how to do anything less meaningful?

"I'm sorry, Dylan." Cassia touched his arm for a second before pulling her hand away. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I do have trouble talking to most women, and I couldn't think of a single thing to say to the woman I met at the club earlier. I don't know why I'm OK here, talking to you." He shrugged. "Maybe it's the beer I had tonight."

She laughed. "I doubt that's it. Maybe it's the situations. You're putting too much pressure and expectation into meeting someone."