Shattered Ice

Needing a drink

*Caleb*

I lean against the bar, nursing a drink that’s probably more for show than anything else. The clinking of glasses and the low hum of chatter swirl around me, but my thoughts are still caught in the whirlwind that was dinner. I glance sideways at Virginia, who’s just finished rolling her eyes at something her mother said from across the room as she left for bed.

“I’m exhausted,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Honestly, I feel like I just played three periods of hockey without a break.”

Virginia laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Welcome to the Harrington family experience. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I can see why you might need a drink or two to survive,” I reply, raising my glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to surviving the circus.”

“I wish I could say not my circus and not my monkeys,” she laughs, clinking her glass against mine. “And I definitely know the clowns.”

I chuckle, “Would I happen to be the clown?”

She just winks cheekily.

As I take a sip, I can’t help but admire how the emerald dress hugs her curves just right. I mean, I know I am just pretending to be her boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the view. She catches me staring, and I quickly turn my attention back to the bar. Smooth, Caleb, real smooth.

“So, what are the plans for tomorrow?” I ask, eager to steer the conversation away from the dinner debacle and the Harrington family drama. I’m kind of hoping for something chill, like a lazy day in the nice suit with a pizza and a game on TV.

“Oh, you’ll love this,” she says, a mischievous grin creeping onto her face. “The men are all supposed to go play golf while the women have a spa day. It’s like a bachelor and bachelorette thing, but without the actual fun.”

I blink at her, processing the information. “Golf?” The word comes out as a strangled laugh. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t think I’ve ever held a golf club in my life.”

Virginia bursts into laughter, the sound infectious. “Well, it’s the perfect opportunity then. I mean it isn’t that different from hockey. You could be the underdog story of the century.”

“Or I could just be the guy who embarrasses himself in front of your whole male family,” I counter, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “What if I accidentally hit someone with a golf ball? Or worse, what if I miss the ball entirely and it just rolls into a water hazard? Do you go in after it? Because I can see the headlines now: ‘Local Hockey Player Takes a Dive… Off the Ice!’”

Her laughter bubbles over again, and I swear it’s the best sound I’ve heard all night. “You’re being dramatic. It can’t be that bad. Besides, it’s not like my family’s going to be judging you on your golf skills… alone.”

“I can already picture your mother’s disapproving glare if she hears I embarrassed everyone,” I say, grimacing. “She’ll probably write me off as some ‘hockey oaf’ who doesn’t belong in her world.”

“Don’t worry about my mom,” Virginia reassures me, her voice softening. “She’s tough, but she can warm up to people if they give her a chance. Just be yourself, and maybe try to avoid any sports metaphors. She’s not a fan of those.”

“Noted. I’ll stick to small talk about the weather and the latest fashion trends,” I reply, smirking. “Or what is she into? Pearls, and their clutching?”

“Right, because that’s the skill set that’ll get you through a day on the golf course,” she teases, taking a sip of her drink. “But seriously, it’ll be fun. And if nothing else, you’ll have a great story to tell your teammates.”

I think about it for a moment. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot… but only if you promise to be my cheerleader. I’ll need someone to keep me from completely embarrassing myself.”

“Sorry,” she says, giving me an apologetic smile. “I am forced to be scrubbed, waxed and glowed up. I’ll get you a golf glove, just to class it up a bit.”

“Wow, a golf glove? You really know how to make a guy feel special,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to wear plaid shorts.”

“Now that’s a look I’d pay to see,” she laughs, and for a moment, I forget about the pressure of mingling with her family. I’m just here, leaning on the bar, joking with an incredible girl who somehow makes this whole circus feel a little less overwhelming.

I sigh, “You sure I can’t just get a wax instead? I bet getting the hairs of my balls ripped out would be less painful than golf.”

She plants a hand on her hip and stare at me.

“Alright, you win,” I say, raising my glass one more time. “Here’s to tomorrow’s golf extravaganza and my imminent humiliation, I guess I should be happy you are not there to film me.”

“Cheers to that!” she grins. “Oh and no worries, Charlie will handle that.”.