by Brown, Tara
That chaps my ass. I push myself, flying down the ice as the little guy takes his shot. He fakes and hits it to his teammate who shoots and scores. They jump into each other’s arms, hugging and—they’re fucking girls!
Fuck!
It’s Red and Blondie and they’ve faked us out with a new jersey and line change.
Jenny has her hair pulled so tight against her head you can’t see it in the helmet. So does Blondie. She skates past me, flashing a smile and the slightest hint of that red hair.
“That’s the girls, isn’t it?” Brady growls.
I nod, mouth once again hanging open and total confusion plaguing me.
“Son of a bitch! They stacked their line,” he snarls and turns to line up for the drop.
But this time we’re ready for them.
Cap gets the puck at center, passing it hard to Matt, landing it dead middle on the blade of his stick. Matt passes directly to me. I skate hard, handing off to Mike Number One. He passes to Brady who takes the shot. It’s a slap. He doesn’t hold back at all. The puck flies at net but the goalie is some kind of ninja. He reaches out and blocks, deflecting it off a pad. The puck goes soaring into the boards and is grabbed by their team.
Ref blows the whistle.
“No slap shots! Penalty for the visitors. Who’s taking the shot?”
Jenny skates over. “I will.”
Brady looks like he might eat her but Cap skates over to give him a talking to. I want to watch Brady have his ass handed to him as he skates to the bench, but my eyes are on Red. If she lands this goal, we’re only beating them by one.
She swaps her stick out with the blondie who’s goofy handed. Red takes the puck, skates hard, heads directly for the left-hand side of goal. It’s a risky move, but she fakes high and shoots low, his weak spot as he catches left. Her goal slides right past his stick and pads, sending the buzzers and horn into the air with “We Will Rock You” by Queen.
Red lifts off her helmet as she skates to the box to take a seat. Her eyes find mine and she flashes that sexy, smug grin. It’s the same one she gets after she drums.
The game flies by. Second period is over before we can get a good lead. And in third, we can’t score on their goalie, so our defense has to button up and keep the puck in play on their end. Not that it helps us.
The goalie is something from legends. I’m assuming any second the helmet is gonna come off and Carey Price will be there, grinning at us. I swear I saw the butterfly effect a couple of times.
The third period ends and we’ve beaten them by one goal. The girls fly at the goalie who rips off her helmet and grins. It’s the other blonde. The one who was on Red’s line in the beginning.
“Holy fuck, it’s a girl,” Brady and Mike Number Two say at the same time.
“She might be the second best goalie I’ve seen in my life,” Cap adds with a nod of respect.
The stands are going nuts, cheering louder when they see it’s a girl.
“It’s time to shake hands. Line up,” Cap shouts and skates to start the line.
We file in behind him, all of us stuck staring at the goalie. She and Jenny and the blonde forward made the team.
As we’re offering a sincere handshake and greeting to each player, my gaze doesn’t leave Jenny. She’s sweating up a storm and the pale skin of her face is flushed with color. I remember the last time I saw her skin look like this and fight a groan.
“Keep it in your pants.” Matt taps my jaw closed which I hadn’t noticed was open.
When she gets to me, she’s smirking and I can’t fight the grin on my face.
I offer her a, “Good game,” but the animalistic stare on both our faces is familiar. We are going to fuck tonight and she might break my dick off. But it’ll be worth it.
“You too, Lawrence.” She winks and cruises past me, offering Brady what amounts to a slug in the arm. “Coldwell, I felt that ass grab, fucker.”
I spin to slug him too but he’s busy staring at the goalie, offering a near reverence, “You played well.”
“You’re an asshole for the slap,” she retorts and keeps going like he’s nothing.
Brady and I both laugh, and I know for a fact if he wasn’t engaged to Nat, he would be offering the goalie the tour of the White House. Particularly the oval office.
27
Sweat sessions
Jenny
“That was some game, girls!” Stan says excitedly from the door as we walk up to his mansion on the Upper East Side in the fading light of sunset and streetlights. He hugs Lian, Suz, and then me, whispering in my ear, “You kicked their asses.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a laugh. “We had some motivation that first period.”
“Indeed. They were messing around with you. I saw it.” He turns us to face the insane entrance. “Go on inside and get something to eat, you must be starved. And well done on all the arrangements. The food and entertainment are perfect. You are definitely superstars.”
“Thanks, sir,” we say in unison and walk into the house.
“Oh my God, that was amazing.” Sukii hurries to us and takes my hands. “Cap says you switched up your jerseys and changed lines to throw them off.”
“Yeah, it was a dirty trick,” Suz says with too much delight in her voice. “But it might not have been necessary had they not molested us the first period.”
“They made their beds,” Lian adds, still fired up with adrenaline. “I’m gonna go pick the lucky winner who gets to have sex with me later. I think I might fuck that huge Russian asshole.” She winks and walks to the bar, leaving us all giggling.
“Yeah, I think I might be into that too,” Suz glances at one of the servers, a tall girl with a wide smile and eyes that haven’t stopped flickering in Suz’s direction.
“Have fun!” Sukii sings and pulls me to the far side of the great room which is filling up with people. “Cap also mentioned that he didn’t think you and Lori had patched things up.” She inspects me with her dark eyes. “You said you dealt with it.”
“Okay, well, I—lied,” I admit quietly. “I don’t know what to say. I feel awful. He was trying to be nice, and I treated him so coldly and I called him a skin-suit—” I glimpse to the left to see him, Nat, Sami, Brady, and Matt all walk in together. “I panicked and decided to let it sit until the junket and game were off my plate.” I exhale slowly, trying not to stare at the tight tee shirts and fitted jeans. “And now the piper has to be paid.”
“Damn, look at those thighs,” Sukii whispers, joining me in staring until the whole group of them gazes over at us like they’re the Cullen family and this is the Forks High School cafeteria.
I force a smile and a wave as Nat does the same. Sami’s halfhearted smile suggests she knows how poorly I’ve treated Lawrence, making me feel worse. Especially since all I can think about since the game is fucking his brains out. It’s all I’ve thought about for two weeks while I threw myself into my work.
Lawrence nods and walks into the house, not coming in my direction.
“Oh shit, he is pissed at you.”
I press my lips together and try not to sweat, but the more I try to stop it, the worse it gets.
“You’re weirdly sweaty again,” Sukii mutters.
“Yup, take over for me and don’t let anyone notice I’m gone,” I squeak and excuse myself, hurrying to the servants’ bathroom on the main floor, thanking the gods I know about it. When I get in there, I strip to my underwear and bra, waving my blouse out and airing my skirt. The action of moving around is making it worse so I sit on the toilet in my undergarments and heels and think.
But that doesn’t help either so I play on my phone.
I end up on Facebook typing Ben’s name in but not finding him. It takes a second for me to remember I blocked him. I almost want to unblock him so I can snoop, but I don’t.
Thinking about him again makes me realize the sweating didn’t start until Ben. The stress he caused was the beginning of the end for me. Everyt
hing was great before that. And now I’m in my boss’s bathroom, hiding because of it. I need to stop being a little baby and close this chapter. I need closure so I can stop soaking everything.
My fingers are shaking and my chest is aching, but I decide to take this thing off my to-do list, the easier one weirdly enough. I enter his phone number and wait.
“Hello? Ben here.” He sounds professional.
His voice rips at me but I force myself to speak, “Hi.”
“Jesus—fuck—Jenny!” he shouts. “Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? No one’s returning my calls. Your brother sent me some shitty email, threatening to kill me. None of your friends are returning my calls. What is going on?”
“I saw you,” I whisper, ignoring his questions and saying the one thing I need to check him off the list.
“What?” He calms down but doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. “Where are you? I’ll come meet you. Are you at your place? I can be there in twenty.”
The question brings a smile to my lips. He doesn’t know I moved. He hasn’t gone to my apartment in the three weeks since this ended.
It’s a tough lump to swallow but I realize this is over. The closure tastes bitter but it’s better than the guilt from saying nothing to him.
“Say hi to Aslin.” I hang up and block his number. Exhaling, I notice the sweating has stopped and I shiver from being cold, but it’s a clearing and freeing feeling to be done with that.
I dress slowly, realizing I didn’t need Ben to know I saw him or that I knew about Aslin. I needed to know if he cared that I was gone without a trace.
And the answer, as much as it hurts my feelings, is the final nail in the coffin. For the first time in weeks, I am genuinely over it.
I take a look in the mirror before opening the bathroom door, meeting my own gaze for the first time in a long time. My lips curl into a grin and I turn the handle, walking out and into a wall. I thump and fall back but he catches me again.
“Easy, Red!” Lawrence laughs and lifts me to my feet.
“What are you doing?” I grunt as I shove him away and straighten my clothes.
“Actually, I was—God, you were right.” He runs his hand through his hair and peers down the hallway as if he might run away. “This is awkward. But I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re killing me. And right now I wish I’d ducked into another room instead of waiting. I mean, you were in there for like ever. And I already feel like a stalker over the whole apartment thing—”
I attack, grabbing his face and kissing to stop him from talking. He’s shocked but kisses back after he mumbles a few words. His hand slides up my back, inside the shirt, massaging roughly as he whispers, “Fuck, I missed you.”
I have a fistful of his hair and my leg up his body and around his butt when I realize where we are. I shove him back and wipe my mouth, huffing my breaths. “We can’t do this.”
“Yes, we fucking can!” he says exasperatedly.
“No, I mean we’re doing this, just not here. I’ll lose my job and, unfortunately, my apartment. The two are tied together.”
“What?” He frowns and parts his lips, about to say something, but he pauses, nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and pulls me around the side to go back to the front room but I pull him back.
“This way.” I drag him through the servants’ entrance to the street and he hurries to a limo, knocking on the window.
“Hey, Charles, can I ask a huge favor?”
“Your place, I presume?” the old driver asks like this is something that happens a lot. I don’t care right now. Not really. Okay, I care a little but I’m way too high to come down yet.
He gets the door for me and I hurry inside before someone sees me leaving early, sitting down as he sits across from me.
The door is barely closed when the car starts moving.
Lawrence stares, trying to catch his breath.
I’m desperate for the moment we’re out of this vehicle.
He keeps swallowing like he might start talking but he doesn’t. And his eyes have that funny innocent and cute look to them.
It’s a tense pause.
His fingers dig into his jeans as if he’s holding himself back.
The car stops and I swear it’s been a lifetime of crazy silence.
He jumps out before the valet can get it and we’re at the Plaza.
This must be where he brings girls.
He grabs my hand and drags me from the car. My legs are seizing from the savage game but I keep up, even in heels.
We race past people who are saying good evening to him but Lawrence ignores them or offers a weird little wave. They all seem to recognize him as he pulls me through the hotel to the elevators. There are other people with us so his fingers entwine in mine as his thumb massages my palm. My knees almost buckle as memories of that thumb massaging other parts of me find their way to the surface.
We get into a different elevator and as the doors close, he scans a card.
“You keep a room here?” I ask, confused and starting to doubt my decision of coming to his dirty-room sex lair. The limo was weird and kinda gross. This is something else. I’m not sure I’m in for this call-girl-feel type of sex. Not when the hotel staff know who he is. Meaning he’s who I thought he was.
“No.” He scowls. “I live here. My apartment.” He points at the doors as they open to a stunning foyer.
“This is your apartment?” I’ve lost a lot of my sexual desires and am starting to question things. The enormous gallery-style hallway off the elevator makes me laugh. It’s a portrait gallery like in a museum, which suits the decor.
A fluffy black-and-white cat comes running to us, meowing and rubbing against Lawrence’s legs. “Simon, this is Jenny.” He picks up the cat and turns.
“You have a cat?” I ask but recall him mentioning this at some point. The name Simon brings it back. “Right, Simon.”
My legs are moving and my eyes can’t stop scanning what I now think is the entire floor of the hotel. Of the Plaza, of all hotels. “What are you, Chuck Bass?” I spin and take it all in.
“Who?”
“Nothing,” I mumble and walk away, fully snooping. There’s a huge living room that leads to a bar, an actual bar. It flows into a theater or library or both. The entire outer wall of these three rooms is windows overlooking a terrace that has a full view of Central Park. I hurry to the left to find a formal dining room. Which is weird. My grandma is the one person I know with a formal dining room.
That leads to a breakfast room with again, a huge terrace overlooking the city.
The kitchen is the size of my apartment, and I suspect Lawrence has never cooked a meal in his life.
The pantry is weirdly huge and well equipped for a guy who lives alone with his cat. Or is he here alone?
“Where are you going?” He laughs and follows after me.
“What the hell, Lawrence?” I gasp when I enter the gym, a two-room gym. It’s insane. People could pay memberships for it.
The hallway from there leads back to the elevator. “You have wings. An east wing and a north wing and a west wing?” I walk past him and the cat, to the library which brings me to a set of double doors. They lead into a bedroom like I’ve never seen in real life. It’s the size of the living room. It has a full office to one side and a hallway with weird closet doors, reminding me of something from a horror movie but, they’re plush fabric-covered and in a taupe.
“I haven’t redecorated yet. The former owner was a fan of Versailles.” He’s defending himself for the furnishings, but honestly, it’s something out of a castle and I’m kind of digging it. It’s the sort of place you have themed sex wearing a wench costume.
There are his and hers dressing rooms, closets, and bathrooms. “The entire east wing is a master suite?” I laugh and stare at it all, shaking my head in tiny twitches. “Do you live here alone? This is bigger than my elementary school.”
“It was a steal. Som
e shady European investment banker”—he makes finger quotes—“died and his family was under suspicion for his crimes so they wanted to get rid of it quickly. And it was a cash deal so I got it for a steal.” He puts Simon down and points randomly at the room. “It’s a smart investment and while I’m playing here, it works as a home.” He totally tries to shrug off the billionaire’s apartment.
“A home? How dare you bring me here after seeing my apartment.” I laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t see the last one.”
“I’m not at all interested in your apartment, Ms. Snowdon.” He steps forward. “Or mine. I was all for fucking in Stan’s bathroom. You’re the one who wanted to leave.”
“And the limo? You don’t do limo sex?”
“Well, I do but it’s Matt’s limo and I really like Charles, so I doubt I could have performed in there,” he admits casually.
“Matt’s limo?” I bite my upper lip to prevent anything else from popping out.
“Yeah, I-I don’t have a driver. I prefer to drive myself. In a car. Or truck.” He narrows his eyes. “Were you thinking I was going to cheaply bang you in the car and then drop you off? ‘Cause that’s not what I was thinking. At all.”
“Okay,” I say with a smile. He moves forward but I put a hand up, realizing this closure thing has to happen because I don’t want to have sex and avoid him again afterward. I like him. Even if he lives in a weird apartment castle alone with his cat. “Wait. I need to say something first.”
“Noooooo.” He moves closer but I move back.
“Seriously. I have to apologize. It was a weird couple of weeks and it’s a long story.” I laugh nervously. “And I need you to hear it.” I don’t know if I’m starting in the right spot. “Do you have ice cream?”
“Fuck me, we’re really going to talk? My bed is right there.”
“I’m going to bet there’s ice cream.” I ignore him. “You have one of those nice old-lady housekeepers, don’t you?” I hurry past him for the kitchen. It takes two tries because I get turned around by the gym.
