by Claire Adams
I found that my ticket gave me a seat right behind the glass, instead of up in the higher rows; the woman at the ticket booth had been right — there weren’t many of our fans in the stands. I looked out on the ice. The game was still hot and heavy and I glanced at the scoreboard to see we were ahead by a couple of points. That is good, at least, I thought wryly. I’d hate to bother Johnny with accusations of being a rapist and abuser when he’s just lost a game. I took my seat. The section for our team was small, but everyone was cheering, most of them shouting Johnny’s name.
I spotted him on the ice, playing just as hard and just as well as he ever had when I had watched him — better, in fact than he had been playing when he knew I was in the audience watching him. Georgia had joked that I was distracting the star player just by my presence, but her joke seemed to have a good bit of substance as I watched Johnny dominate on the ice. He nearly got into a brawl with one of the other team’s players. The refs broke it up just in time, and I shook my head, feeling irritated instead of panicky. There was no question in my mind that Johnny was fully capable of being aggressive, but was he capable of hurting a girl he loved? How do you know he loved Claire? Because he told you? But how do you know you can trust anything he says? I chewed at my bottom lip; it was starting to become sore from how often I had pulled it between my teeth in the last several hours, but I didn’t care.
Johnny looked like he was having a great time, and I couldn’t help but feel a little irritated at the fact that he was clearly totally oblivious to what was going on in my life. Where had he been and what had he been doing when I had texted him before? It had been before the game. I frowned as I watched him streaming across the ice, almost too fast to watch. Certainly no one on the other team had anyone who could keep up with him for more than a few seconds before he blasted past. The goalie on the other team was working overtime to keep the lead that our side had from growing. One of the other team’s players stole the puck from one of Johnny’s teammates and managed to get in a quick shot that our goalie wasn’t quite fast enough to knock aside, leaving the lead to just a point.
There was a break between quarters and I watched as Johnny went over to the sidelines. I could barely see his face through his mask, but I could tell he was grinning. I felt a surge of irritation. How was he so happy? If he had been behind the torment that had led to Claire’s death, how could he ever be that happy again? I clenched my teeth as I saw him fist-bump one of his teammates. It didn’t seem fair that I had spent the last several hours — and before that, a couple of days — in a writhing torture of fear, worry, and sadness and here he was playing as if nothing else in the world was on his mind, as if nothing could possibly bother him. I saw him laugh at something one of his teammates said to him as he went in to grab a squeeze-bottle of water.
He pulled his mask back and his helmet off, and I watched him take a long swig of the water. His hair was soaked with sweat, his face dripping with it. In spite of my irritation, I couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was, and I felt angry even as I felt my body warming up in reaction, glowing from the way he’d attacked the game. He poured water over his face and I felt a jolt rush through me. Stop that, I told myself irritably. You’re here for a reason and it’s not to ogle Johnny. But as I watched him laughing and joking with his friends in the brief break between quarters, I couldn’t quite hold onto the idea that he was some brutal, abusive psychopath. He couldn’t be that way and have friends; I would ask him about Claire and what had really happened, about what my mother had found out, and he would set my mind at ease. He couldn’t have been involved. It had to be some kind of misunderstanding — something I couldn’t even imagine, but nonetheless, there had to be some way to explain what had happened that would leave him completely and totally blameless in the whole situation.
It was so hard for me to focus as I watched the game, staring at Johnny. He had no idea I was there, which almost made it harder for me to decide how I felt about him; he was totally unguarded, completely himself. I could see that he was the same way with his teammates as he had been with me from the very beginning, but I also saw that he definitely had an aggressive side. He pushed and shoved, he crashed into other players with his shoulder; I saw him send one of the other team’s players sliding sprawled on the ice in a quick sideswipe movement that was all too reminiscent of my near-miss in the car ride up to the college and felt sick to my stomach. But just because someone was capable of being aggressive in an aggressive sport didn’t mean that they were capable of abusing their girlfriend, did it?
Our team once more increased their lead, Johnny getting in a rapid-fire goal. I realized watching them play that I had started, almost without realizing it, to learn the game, to understand what was going on around me. I cheered with the people in the section, though I didn’t call Johnny’s name. No one seemed to know who I was, and at least at an away game like this, I didn’t see the stupid redhead from the dining hall screaming for my boyfriend or flashing him. It was obvious that Johnny was a big fan favorite everywhere — there were plenty of girls shouting for him, but he seemed to ignore them all. I didn’t know whether I should be flattered by that or not. I didn’t know at all how I felt about what I was seeing. I didn’t know what to think.
The game began to wind down, and our team settled for playing defense, holding the other team, already exhausted, but still desperate to even the score and take it into overtime, at bay. As long as they could manage to keep the other team from scoring more than one point, they would win. It seemed almost like a foregone conclusion to me, and I nearly got out of my seat, impatient for the game to be over. I remembered Johnny telling me — about the team he was watching on TV — that his team always won. I hadn’t thought about it much since that night, but there was something almost sinister about that comment. I made myself hold still and just stare straight in front of me, cheering when everyone around me did, not really paying attention to the commentary or even what was going on. If it was true that Johnny had done something to torture his own girlfriend, then I wouldn’t have to know anything at all about hockey anymore. I was not going to stay with a man who could do that. Do you know he did that? Are you even going to give him an opportunity to explain what happened? Or are you just here to shove what you’ve already decided in his face? I took a deep breath. I was going to let him explain, but I was going to make sure that I didn’t give him an opportunity to charm me out of it or brush aside the need to explain anything. My need to know for sure was more important than the desire to not believe that Johnny was capable of what he was being accused of. I had to know the truth.
Chapter Five
The game finally ended and I waited for everyone to file out of the stands, watching as Johnny and his teammates celebrated on the sidelines, laughing and cheering and jostling each other like the boys they were. I sighed, wondering just how I was going to manage to get a chance to talk to him. I waited until everyone had left the bleachers except for me and then I wandered out, clenching my ticket in my hands. There had to be a locker room area I could get to; the stadium wasn’t that big.
I wandered around and around, wondering if I had lost my mind or if I was going around in circles, until I found what I wanted. The stadium was next to deserted, and I felt my fear creeping back up inside of me. It had to take a lot of time for a whole team of guys to get showered and changed, didn’t it? But I couldn’t tell how long I had been wandering in order to find the visitor locker room. I wasn’t even entirely sure if I had found the right one. I fidgeted as I waited, wondering just how long I could make myself stand there, looking like an idiot. No one, apparently, had waited to talk to the guys after the game. Their smaller group of fans this far away from the college probably just wanted to get home. It wasn’t super late in the evening, but late enough that I was starting to wonder if I had been an idiot to drive so far just to watch the last part of a winning game and not even accomplish what I had come for.
Just as I was beginning to
lose hope, players started to come out of the locker room; one or two of them leered at me but kept walking, and I was relieved that I wasn’t going to have to deal with them, too. I kept looking for Johnny to come out as more and more of the players emerged. I knew he had to be there — I had seen him on the ice, hadn’t I? What if he showered fast and just went back to the bus? I pushed the thought aside.
A small group of players came out, walking a little more slowly than the other guys I’d seen, and I recognized them as friends of Johnny’s, and I thought I remembered seeing them at the Phi Kappa party. “Hey, Becky! Johnny didn’t say you were coming out to support us,” one of them said, spotting me. I smiled nervously.
“I didn’t know I was coming out until I did,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “He hasn’t already gone back to the bus, has he? I kind of wanted to talk to him.” Johnny’s teammate flashed me a grin.
“Nah, he’s being a prima donna in there. You can go on in; we’re the last ones out besides him. It’s a good thing you’re here. If he isn’t out in five, he’s going to miss the bus. At least he’ll have a ride home.” I tried to laugh, but my heart was already beating faster. Johnny was alone in the locker room. I tried to think of why he would still be in there. Maybe he’d finally gotten my texts. He had no idea I was only a few yards away from him.
“Thanks,” I told the player. I let him give me a quick hug before he and the others went on their way towards the parking lot and the waiting bus there, and then took a deep breath. I was going to go in there, and I was going to ask the questions that had been weighing on me all this time.
It felt weird walking into a men’s locker room, even though I could see as soon as I came to the end of the hallway leading into it that the other guys on the team hadn’t been lying — there was no one else in there. I wandered past the lockers, looking around, feeling almost pervy. The smell of sweat and male funk was so strong I almost didn’t want to breathe through my nose. I heard the sound of a shower running and started off in that direction.
I found the line of showers — open, not even a single curtain to give any privacy — just in time to watch Johnny hang his towel on a hook, safely out of the range of the shower heads. As firmly as I’d told myself that I wasn’t going to get distracted, I found myself staring at him. I had seen him naked so many times already that it should have been easy to just call his name and start talking to him, but I had somehow managed to forget just how gorgeous he was. God. It’s not even fair. My gaze moved down from Johnny’s sweat-darkened hair, along his broad, strong shoulders and muscular back. His legs were built up from hours upon hours of skating, and I could make out every ridge and valley where the muscles had built up. My legs felt weak and in spite of my determination to talk to him, I felt myself getting hot all over, my pussy starting to get wet.
I bit my lip as Johnny stepped into the steaming water, tilting his head back to let it pour over his face and through his short hair. I watched it sluice down his body and leaned against the wall, staring without even caring that I had come there for a specific purpose. Johnny bent over and I watched his muscles flex and move as he picked up a bottle of shower gel. He lathered up a washcloth and stepped slightly out of the shower’s flow and my mouth watered as I watched him soap himself up everywhere, spreading foamy white suds over his muscled body. I shook my head. There was no way my mom was right. Johnny couldn’t have lied to me; Mom was just being ridiculous. Who hires a private investigator to check out their daughter’s boyfriend, anyway? It was crazy. It was just the sort of thing that my mom would do to try to keep me from dating someone she had already decided was not rich enough to matter.
But there wasn’t just my mom; there were people online, there was what the PI had found — why would there be a sealed police file on Johnny if he wasn’t somehow involved in the whole crazy mess? I was worrying at my bottom lip, trying to decide how I felt. My arousal at the sight of Johnny naked, soaping himself up, his strong hands moving over his body quickly, was at odds with my deep panic and despair. Just as I was struggling to decide which feeling was stronger, Johnny’s head turned, and then the rest of his body. He was staring straight at me, his eyes wide. “Becky!”
He stepped out of the shower’s flow in an instant and came towards me, an instant smile on his face. “I had no idea you were coming. What are you doing here?” He looked so pleased, so happy to see me, so oblivious of everything that was going on in my mind. His innocent question brought back everything in a rush. I remembered exactly what I was doing in that locker room, exactly why I had driven two hours to come and confront him. My eyes tingled and I felt my breath hitching.
In between one heartbeat and the next, I started to cry. I couldn’t imagine confronting this man, who was clearly so delighted to see me, who didn’t have any idea that anything was wrong, but I had to. Johnny was in front of me in an instant, reaching out to me with wet hands, holding my shoulders in a firm-but-gentle grip. “Becky, baby, what’s wrong?” he asked me. I shook my head, crying too much to talk.
“I—I—I—you—I can’t…my—and y-you—talk…” I couldn’t make my mouth work properly; I stuttered, sobs tearing through me, and tried to get a hold of myself, but couldn’t seem to even form the words properly in my own mind. Johnny pulled me into his arms, stroking my back gently, murmuring that it was okay, that everything was all right and he was right there; all I had to do was tell him what was on my mind. I still couldn’t make myself form the words.
He turned my face up and before I could even finish trying to find a way to speak properly, his lips were on mine. I melted into him, pressing along his hard, wet body. I felt ashamed that I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t even stop myself responding to the kiss, meeting his tongue with my own, letting my hands wander over his naked body. It was such a relief to be in his arms, it felt so good and so right to be kissing him, to be alone with him. I felt the ache in my side starting to dissolve, the tension in my back that I hadn’t even felt going away as I pressed against him all over. “Are you okay?” Johnny asked, barely breaking away from my lips.
I made a decision; I started to unbutton my blouse. “I need you,” I said. “I need…I need to be with you.” Johnny smiled, and his hands moved over my body, helping me every step of the way as I stripped every piece of clothing off, letting it fall to the floor. Johnny smiled, kissing me again for just a moment before he led me back towards the running shower.
He reached up to the back of my head and gently pulled the elastic out, freeing my hair to tumble down around my shoulders. I gasped as the hot water hit me, rushing down along my skin and unknotting muscles I hadn’t even known were tense. Johnny’s hands wandered all over me, touching and teasing, and I started to caress him, too, exploring every ridge and line of his body. Whatever else was happening, whatever else I should be thinking about, was unimportant. The only thing I needed then was to touch Johnny, to feel him, to kiss him. Johnny pulled me close, holding us both under the shower’s flow, and I kissed him hungrily, desperately. He was still slick with soap and water, and I felt his cock pressing against me, already hard.
I pushed him away slightly and sank down onto my knees in front of him. “You were amazing out there,” I said, for the moment, at least, not thinking of what his aggression might mean. I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and began to stroke him; Johnny groaned, head falling back against his shoulders as his hips began to move in reaction. I brought my lips up to his erection and licked the tip as I stroked the base, working him with my fingers. I wrapped my mouth around him and the salty-sharp taste of his precum, already starting to flow, coated my tongue. He tasted so good — even with the lingering taste of the soap that was still on his skin. I closed my eyes and worshipped Johnny with my mouth, sucking and licking, taking more and more of him in. His fingers tangled in my hair, and his hips moved to the movements of my lips, but he never tried to force me, never pulled or pushed; he let me go at my own pace and as I heard his moans fi
lling the air, I found myself getting more and more turned on.
He pushed me away gently; his cock had begun to twitch, little spasms that made me sure he was on the verge of orgasm. Johnny lifted me up onto my feet gently and kissed me on the lips, his hands moving to cup my breasts and tease my nipples into firm little nubs before drifting down between my legs. “I’m so glad you came out,” he murmured against my lips. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, all night.” Johnny chuckled lowly, his fingers slipping and sliding along the folds of my labia. “I was going to sneak into your room and surprise you again as soon as we got back to campus.” His fingers pressed against me and I moaned, pushing myself down to meet his touch as I became wetter and wetter by the moment. He found my clit and began to stroke me, his other hand moving all over my body, tickling and caressing, cupping my breast.
He kissed along my body, moving his lips on a downward path from my mouth to my neck, lingering at my breasts to claim each of my nipples in turn. I moaned, only fleetingly thinking of how good it was that we were all alone in the stadium, that no one would hear us, as Johnny rubbed and stroked me. He nibbled along my abdomen and nuzzled my hips, working his way to my pussy with what seemed like aching slowness. Johnny pushed me gently against the shower wall and spread my legs wider; I looked down at him and he grinned up at me, on his knees. “Did you miss me, Becky-baby?” he asked as his fingers spread my labia apart.
