Hot as Puck(18)

“But you eventually got over it,” she says softly. “How?”

“Meditation,” I confess, though I’ve never told anyone but Brendan how hard I had to work to get my stupid brain back in line. But Libs isn’t judgmental and she understands what it’s like to royally psych herself out. “I took private lessons. Even got up at five a.m. a couple of times so I could get a class in before practice. After about a week, I was shooting straight again. Now I meditate before every game, between every period, and any other time I need to get sharp.”

“So you think I should meditate before second base?” she asks, arching a brow.

“No.” I laugh as I set down my mug. “I think you should meditate before you get ready to go out. Just close your eyes, concentrate on your breath, and visualize the date going the way you want it to go.”

Libby’s nose wrinkles. “You think that will work?”

I nod. “Hockey and sex actually have a lot in common.”

“They do?” She eyes me skeptically as I take her gently by the shoulders and urge her to lean back against the couch cushions.

“They do. They’re both very reactive sports.”

“Sports?” She snorts. “That says a lot about you, Jus.”

“Pastimes, then,” I amend. “They can both be fast-paced and unpredictable.” I shift to sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing Libby. “That’s why it’s important to stay in the moment. To breathe and relax and be ready to respond at a second’s notice.”

Her lips press together as she nods slowly. “Okay. How do I do it?”

“Close your eyes,” I say softly, nodding when she hesitates. “Go ahead. Close ’em.” She obeys with a wrinkle of her nose. “Good. Now roll your shoulders back, relax your jaw, and let go as you concentrate on your breath. As you inhale, visualize calm flowing into your body like a white cloud. And as you exhale imagine tension streaming out in a yellow puff of smoke.”

“Can it be a gray puff? When I think smoke, I think gray.”

“Sure, gray smoke is fine,” I say, lips curving as Libby wiggles deeper into the cushions. “In with the white, out with the gray. In with white, out with gray, gently bringing your thoughts back to the breath when they try to break off and go somewhere else.”

She nods and her shoulders relax a little farther away from her ears.

“If other thoughts or fears or worries arise,” I continue in a soft, even voice, “notice them, acknowledge them—yes, thoughts about what I need to pick up at the store, or how dumb it is to sit here doing nothing but breathe, I see you, there you are—and then go back to your breath without judgment. Don’t let your mind get attached to anything but the breath. The breath is the only sticky thing, everything else floats in and floats out.”

Libby sighs and shifts again, but after a few moments, her breath is coming in longer and smoother waves and the tension has melted from her features, making me think she’s found her ground zero. I think of that quiet, focused place as my launch pad, the spot where I go to shut out the world before I get down to the work that happens between the ears.

“Once you feel like the slate is clean, go ahead and imagine you’re getting ready to go out with old Roger.”

“He’s not old,” she says in a calm, Zenned-out voice. “He’s only thirty-two.”

“So you’re getting ready for a date with not-old Roger,” I amend, silently disagreeing with Libby. Eight years makes more of a difference than most people think, and what’s wrong with Roger that he’s still single at thirty-two? Don’t most schoolteacher types get married a lot younger than that?

“Okay, I’m getting ready,” Libby says, breaking into my admittedly judgmental thoughts. She still sounds chill, which is good. It took me a few sessions before I could stay in my happy place while visualizing or responding to questions.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m taking a shower, washing my hair.”

“Good, concentrate on the slippery feel of the shampoo, and the way your hair glides through your fingers when it’s wet.” I’m winging it a little bit—my meditation exercises are all focused on staying in my body while I’m on the ice—but I figure encouraging her to pay attention to sensual, tactile details will get her in a better frame of mind for imagining a smooth transition from making out to something more. “Can you feel it?”

“I can.” She lifts her chin. “I can feel the water hot on my chest. The air is warm and humid, but in a good way.”