When We Were Young

Skinny jeans

I feel like an absolute fool. I knew nothing about ice hockey and didn't know how to even dress for a hockey game. That sounds strange for a guy to say, I know. I had on jeans and trainers and my favorite gray jumper. It was a little stretched out but I liked how the wool didn't scratch my skin any longer. I threw on my coat and glared in the mirror.

Typical Englishman, I thought. She'll hate the jeans, I was sure, but I really didn't have anything else other than dress pants for work and khakis, which I knew wouldn't work for a hockey game.

"Fuck it," I mumbled and grabbed my sunglasses before heading outside.

I felt rested; I fell asleep shortly after hanging up with Sky and ignored the ongoing barrage of texts from Nate telling me how he had a girl lined up for me if I came out.

For April, the sun seemed surprisingly warm but there was still the winter chill making another appearance that rattled my bones. I shoved my hands in my pocket realizing that I probably should have grabbed gloves and worn a heavier coat.

The walk to the arena didn't take too long. I wondered what Skylar would be wearing, if she would regret wanting to see me again after we had lunch and went to the game. I really needed to stop worrying so much.

I did my best to familiarize myself with some hockey rules but it was completely foreign and I couldn't understand any of it. Offside, icing, roughing, it made no sense. Guys shouldn't be skating on ice using sticks anyway. They should be on a field with a ball kicking it around, although that comparison made me laugh out loud.

The thickening crowds on the street made me realize that I was close to the arena. I had only been there a few times for basketball games, in the corporate seats. I didn't much like the sport but I had to entertain with the bosses and pretend to enjoy myself.

I looked across the street to see if I could find Skylar. The text she sent earlier said to meet her at the corner of 33rd and 7th. I scanned the crowds, wondering if maybe she stood me up, but that was really just ridiculous. I needed to stop acting so paranoid because she was waving at me. Skylar was beaming, her face practically glowing. She was wearing the cream coat again with black pants and black boots up to her knees. Her hands were covered in red gloves and she had her sunglasses on top of her head.

"Hello," she said when I finally got around the crowds to reach her. I took off my glasses and didn't say anything, just instinctively leaned down to kiss her cheek. She was much shorter without the heels and I liked it.

When I pulled away, she seemed pleasantly surprised by the kiss.

"You look very British, sir," she teased. She immediately linked her arm through mine and pulled me down the street.

I laughed. "The jeans, right?"

She chuckled. "Well, I'll admit I've never been a real fan of guys wearing skinny jeans, but I must say you wear them well. They go with the coat."

I smirked. "I never looked right in those baggy jeans guys started to wear."

"Nobody looked good in those jeans. Come on," she said and pulled me inside the restaurant, the warmth feeling good against my skin. I hadn't realized how cold it actually was outside.

She winked and turned to talk to the host, who walked us to our table. The restaurant was packed. I helped her with her coat and caught my breath. She was wearing a tight black turtleneck that accentuated her small waist and not so small breasts. My eyes widened and I was sure she caught me gazing at her in awe.

"I made a reservation. I knew the place would be busy because of the game."

I nodded with a nervous smile, immediately sensing people staring and not being shy about it. I floated my eyes to Skylar, who was chewing her lip as she looked through the menu, either oblivious or doing a good job at pretending she didn't notice.