When your cock is hard and your partner is willing, there’s not a lot of places a guy won’t fuck. I would fuck Prissy against a dumpster right now with zero second thoughts.
“I hate that we don’t have that freedom,” she sighs. “But there’s no way I can risk getting caught at your place. It would be the end of my job.”
“No, you’re right. We can’t do that.” I know this job means a lot to Prissy. Plus, I don’t want to put her in that position anyway. “You know...” I lean into her, putting my hand flat on the wall beside her head. She leans back against the brick, and I bring my mouth to her ear. “I should’ve risked the public indecency charges,” I whisper. Prissy tilts her neck as I kiss it. Her little whimpers are fucking driving me wild.
“You know, I could fuck you right here against the side of the house.” I step into her, and she lifts her ass up from the wall, grinding herself against my hard cock.
“Mmm, I think I’d like that.” Prissy grabs onto my waistband and pulls me into her.
Lights suddenly flood her face, washing out her color and invading our privacy.
“Your car is here,” she whispers.
“Fuck,” I snarl at the driver and give Prissy some space.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She grabs my hand and smiles.
“Tomorrow? Why?” With no practice or game, I can’t think of any reason I’d get a chance.
“I’m coming over for dinner. The girls invited me,” she just nonchalantly mentions.
“Wait, no one told me that.” I frown.
“Why would they? No one knows about us. And it has to stay that way. You can’t be acting all soft with me.” She grins.
“What part of this is soft?” I guide her hand to my cock. The way she looks down at the front of my pants, like it pains her to say goodbye… to my cock, that’s a lot to walk away from. Fuck. “You don’t worry about me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I give her a quick kiss and leave her at the front of her place as I get in the car.
Prissy gives a wave to me, and I lift my hand back as we drive away.
Fuck, I need to jerk off.
25
Tired Traditions
Priscilla
Etta stirs the gravy while she checks the meat thermometer. It’s poking out of the most perfect roast turkey I’ve ever seen. The outside is perfectly brown and crackly. It smells amazing. She seems frazzled, not that I blame her. This meal is like something you’d eat at Thanksgiving. Even with Kaylee and Hattie’s help, there’s no way this didn’t take her all day.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” I know I’ve asked about ten times, but standing here with a glass of Sprite in my hands while Etta runs around the kitchen at Hector House like a contestant on a cooking show just feels wrong.
“Nah. I’ve pretty much got it. Besides, you’re a guest,” she refuses. Again. “If anyone should be helping out, it’s the ass-clowns in the living room.” She yells the last part down the hall. I doubt they hear her over their own hollering. Apparently, heading off to the Frozen Four tomorrow isn’t enough. They’ve been whittling each other down in a hockey video-game tournament all afternoon.
“In your face!” Gucci’s voice rises above the rest.
“Lucky shot,” another voice, Griz’s I think, calls out.
“This whole meal is for them.” Etta squints down at the thermometer and nods approvingly at the number. “And you can see how much that really weighs on them.”
“It’s basically a tradition now, isn’t it?” Kaylee pushes her glasses up her nose.
“It feels that way,” Etta agrees.
I don’t ask Blaze much about his friends. Most of what I’ve put together has been from talking to the girls. I know that Etta grew up in a hockey household. With Griz as her older brother and Gucci as a boyfriend, she’s been living and breathing hockey for a long time. Things like lucky socks and play-off beards are as common in her life as the changing seasons are for anyone else. This big dinner sounds like it’s one of those superstitions.
Griz’s girlfriend, Hattie, pulls a pile of plates from the cupboard. “Honestly, I thought they’d be scouted by now.”
“It’ll happen.” Kaylee sounds confident. The nervous way she blinks behind those big glasses betrays her voice though.
“No scout talk! They need to focus on the tournament,” Etta scolds with a harsh whisper.
“You’re right.” Kaylee gets a bunch of soda bottles and some juices out of the fridge. Beer is notably missing. I wonder if they hadn’t invited me over for dinner if that would still be the case.
“Well, you’re giving them a good shot at it with this meal.” Hattie breathes in the intoxicating scent of holiday happiness, even without any of the festivities.
“It looks amazing.” I nod.
I’ve never seen so much food before. Not on our kitchen table. This is the kind of meal that is in every classic Christmas movie. It’s got all the fixin’s you’d expect to see the dog trying to steal off the table in a Norman Rockwell painting.
Growing up, meals like this weren’t served on our table. Christmas dinners were served from microwave dinner food trays. Not that I’m complaining. Mom still did a great job making Christmas magic in other ways. However, it never made sense for us to spend an entire day cooking up army portions of food only to be stuck with a month’s worth of leftovers in our fridge. I’ve always liked our simple Swanson suppers.
Etta reminds me of a magician pulling more things out of a black top hat. How did she ever get that all to fit in there? She fills the counters up with dishes. Whipped potatoes fold over in soft peaks. Little bits of cooked bacon tempt us from the top of the brussels sprouts. There’s even corn on the cob. TV dinners did fail me in one way: they were never nearly this good.
“Are we all set here?” Kaylee looks over at her best friend.
Etta seems to take stock of everything before she answers. “Yup. I think we can get started.”
“Time to eat!” Kaylee yells out in a voice that seems too big for her. Like all this food that was hiding in the oven, it’s weird when something so huge comes out of something so tiny.
The guys all trample into the kitchen, pushing at each other to get through the door first. Griz pretty much dive-bombs the island and grabs the first plate. He doesn’t wait for instructions or permission, he just digs in, piling it high.
“Don’t be such a pig.” Etta gives her brother a swat with the oven mitt she used to pull the food out. Her brother is easily one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen. It’s like watching someone hit a tank with a fly swatter. It doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. He doesn’t even acknowledge that he felt it.
“Seriously, Griz. Your sister worked her ass off making this. Slow your roll.” Hattie raises her eyebrows.
That does it. The human tank gears down to normal pace.
“We’ve got plenty, so don’t go crazy. There’s also some salads over on that counter.” Kaylee points.
Player looks personally offended. “Salads? Come on. I’m not wasting my time on leaves.” He follows Griz around to the heartier selections, stacking his plate up.
“No one wants to hear your salad-rant.” Kaylee shakes her head at him. “It’s crazy, but some people actually enjoy salad. It’s possible to like more foods than just M&M’s.”
“I like way more food than just M&M’s. Pretty much anything,” Player heaps a generous serving of potatoes on his plate. “Just not salad.”
“Congratulations. Your palette is more sophisticated than a toddler’s. Now, how about saving some for the rest of us?” Canuck wedges in front of Player, cutting him off before he can dig into the turkey.
Blaze stands next to me, and I tingle all over. It’s like he vibrates on a frequency that only my body is tuned into. Although I’m sure he’s had the same effect on tons of bunnies, everyone else in this room seems to be immune. My eyes skim each face, searching for signs that they suspect something between us. No one notice
s. No one cares. The focus is exactly where it should be: on Etta’s meal.
“If you don’t jump in, you’re gonna go hungry.” Blaze hands me a plate off the stack.
“Thanks.” I take it from him.
He motions for me to get in front of him. I serpentine around the kitchen island, filling my plate with each dish. Every time I stop to grab some food, that same energy radiates off of him. Does he feel that, or is it all in my head?
Eventually, all our plates get filled up, and we sit around the sprawling table in the dining room.
“Hopefully this goes better than our last party.” Canuck smiles, but no one else does.
“When was that?” I find an open seat at the table. Blaze doesn’t sit near me. It’s weird to pretty much ignore him. I have to fight my instinct to smile or even look at him.
“Blaze’s birthday,” Player answers.
Kaylee sits next to him at the huge farm table. “It doesn’t matter now.” She says it like a reminder.
“You wanna talk about bad birthdays?” Griz slides in next to Hattie.
Once Gucci and Etta get seated, everyone is around the table.
“I think the idea is to stop talking about bad birthdays,” Gucci answers.
“Remember the birthday you got me in shit, Etta?” Griz keeps going.
“You got yourself in shit,” she answers.
“I got sent to my room at my own party. You guys ate my birthday cake without me,” Griz complains.
“Sounds like your birthday, Blaze. We all ate your cake without you too.” Canuck seems completely oblivious to the looks he’s getting.
I don’t know what happened before Blaze showed up at the bar that night, but it sounds like I missed some serious drama.
“You got sent to your room because you couldn’t handle losing musical chairs to me.” Etta points her fork at Griz.
“So I deserved to miss my birthday?” He doesn’t exactly sound over this.
“You pulled the last chair out from under my ass. So, yeah, you deserved it. Now stop complaining about something that happened when you were eight, and eat the meal I made.” Etta narrows her eyes, and Griz stops.
“If my sister cooked me food like this, I wouldn’t care how many of my birthday’s she ruined,” Canuck adds helpfully.
“He attacked me.” Etta defends herself. “I didn’t ruin his birthday. He ruined his own birthday.”
“I don’t know about that, but this more than makes up for the birthday cake you robbed me of that day.” Griz smiles at his sister.
“Get over it.” Hattie nudges him.
“Etta knows I’m kidding.” It’s clear she does. It’s clear they love bugging each other.
The meal is so good that there’s a lull in conversation where we are all concentrating on appreciating the food. I still wouldn’t trade the convenience of my Swanson dinner tradition, but I wish the turkey was half this tender and juicy.
Griz is the first one to finish, even though he had the largest amount of food on his plate. Player and Canuck aren’t far behind him though. Soon, we all finish our meals and clear everything away in the kitchen so Etta doesn’t have to. It’s nice to see that, after all her hard work, the guys load up the dishwasher and put the leftovers away. When the kitchen is spotless and our bellies are pretty much exploding with food, the guys head back down to their video game tournament.
Griz and Hattie don’t join us. “We’d love to stay, but tomorrow’s a big day. I’ll see you guys bright and early,” Griz calls out.
Everyone says goodbye, and they take off. Pretty much as soon as the front door clicks shut behind them Canuck says, “We’re going to need a new roommate. Griz is definitely going to move in with Hattie next year.”
“There aren’t many nights that he sleeps here now. We could’ve been renting his room out all semester, and he wouldn’t even notice.” Gucci leans back into the futon and puts his arm around Etta, giving her a squeeze.
“What about Rookie?” Blaze says.
“Why, so you can have your own fan club?” Player answers.
“He’s a good guy.”
“He wants to be you, that’s why you think that,” Player scoffs.
“Rookie and I are nothing alike. He’s just a first-year guy. A puppy. He still gets excited and pisses on the floor.” Blaze doesn’t do much to sell the new roommate situation with his description.
“Listen, I’ve got no problem with the guy,” Canuck cuts in.
“Me neither,” Gucci agrees.
“Rookie is fine. I’m just saying we don’t need Blaze Jr. living here. One is more than enough.”
Blaze isn’t paying attention to Player anymore though. He’s frowning at his phone screen.
“You’ve made your point.” Kaylee squeezes Player’s hand.
Blaze doesn’t notice or care. He pops off the sofa and talks to Griz in a low voice. “Hey man, can I borrow the SUV? I need to go.”
“Yeah, sure.” Griz hands him the keys.
“Shouldn’t you stay in tonight?” I interrupt.
“I’ll be back before curfew, Prissy. Don’t worry.” I know with everyone watching, he can’t say it nicer, but it still rubs me the wrong way. Where is he going, and why is he leaving me here?
It doesn’t look like I’m going to find out because Blaze doesn’t give me another glance. He disappears out the door, leaving me with a lot of unanswered questions.
“Blaze probably left because you won’t stop harping on him.” Kaylee nudges Player in the ribs. “You’ve got to stop being so hard on him. He’s trying to do better now.”
“Is he?” Player picks up the video game controller and passes Gucci the other one.
“He has.” Kaylee won’t let him tune her out. “He drinks less, he’s cut back on weed. I’m not sure about girls, but…”
“There will always be girls for Blaze,” Canuck says. “They go crazy for him. He can’t beat them off with a stick.”
I don’t like the little jolt of jealousy that zaps through me.
“Not necessarily true,” Kaylee contests. “Look at Noah.”
“How about we don’t? Blaze and I are very different people,” Player says.
“He’s right.” Etta stops her friend from the slippery slope she’s going down. “Besides, it’s not the same. Blaze is a free man. Player had you.”
“No, I meant before we got together,” Kaylee answers.
“Yeah, but even then he still had you. You guys may have only been friends, but he was still in love with you. He was just wasting his time with those other girls, waiting for you to come to your senses.” Etta looks at her friend.
“That’s how I remember it.” Player leans into Kaylee and she laughs.
“That might not be exactly how it went down, but I see your point.”
“The point is, he already loved you,” Etta says.
“Blaze only loves Blaze.” Player’s eyes don’t leave the screen, and I’m glad. I don’t want him to notice how I slump over.
I don’t know how long I pretend to watch their video game competition. My eyes are stuck to the screen, but my mind left with Blaze. I’m not sure where he went, or why, I just know it doesn’t rest well with me.
Brr-ing, brr-ing. My phone lights up with a number I don’t recognize. I take my phone out in the hall, happy for the distraction.
“Hello?”
“Is this Priscilla Stevens?”
“It is.”
“Good, you’re gonna want to come down here…”
It’s not a long conversation. It doesn’t have to be. It’s pretty straight forward. I pop my head back in the living room. “I need to get going you guys. Thanks for having me over.” I try to remember my manners. I try to center my thoughts.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Kaylee asks.
“Everything is fine. That was just my mom.” I don’t like lying to them, but the truth isn’t going to do anything but create chaos. Because, just like this dinn
er, creating chaos is what Blaze does. It’s his tired tradition. And we all get sucked into his orbit.
My goodbyes are quick, and so is my walk to my car. I can’t get the last words the bouncer from Foxies said to me on the phone out of my head.
“You better bring my five bills, ‘cause your boy just walked in.”
26
Rookie Mistake
Blaze
I back the Escalade out of the driveway and slowly make my way up the street we all call Bunny Boulevard, heading downtown. Is Rookie and his dumbass problem on my mind? Not really. It’s Player who’s pissing me off. If you don’t count a couple beers, I barely even drink anymore. He acts like I still get black-out wasted every night. It’s not just the booze either. With the amount I’ve cut back on weed, my name should probably be revoked. I’ve kept my word to him, fighting for my last game like it was life or death on the ice, and he’s still a dick.
The vehicle is dead silent, but my thoughts make up for it. Player needs to take a step back and realize that he’s out of line. If he can’t see how much I’ve changed, he’s fucking blind. I would pretty much rather die than say Prissy has made me a better man. I’ll admit she’s inspired me to do better though.
Of course, he probably doesn’t know that. No one does. With all the sneaking around and secret dates, Player has no reason to think I’ve stopped going to bars. He just sees me coming back to Hector House late, usually smelling like beer. It might be hard to see I’m different when I keep hiding all the evidence.
I don’t need to read the big neon sign on the side of the road because I practically pull into the familiar parking lot from muscle memory. Foxies has way more cars here than the last time. Strip clubs obviously do better on Thirsty Thursdays than on hump day. The parking lot is full enough that I have to drive around it a couple times to find a spot. Last time I was here, it was pretty much the Escalade, Prissy’s dinky car, and a whole lot of open space.
I hit the button on the key, listening for the distinctive clunk of the locks before walking away. Griz is pretty good about letting us use his vehicle. The last thing I need is some drunk, sad, sweatpants man trying to steal it.
BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance Page 17
