by Sara Shirley
I stand up, stretching my arms above my head before bending over to link my hands around my ankles to stretch out. Thinking a long, hot shower will get my mind off today’s events, I start walking into the bathroom set off from the sitting area. Turning on the shower, I begin to strip down as the room begins to fill with steam from the hot water. I swipe the condensation off the mirror and glance at the reflection staring back at me. I’ve certainly changed a little over the years. I’m at least four inches taller than the average skater out there, and my body is not built like the stick figures I see getting ready to take my place once I’m no longer able to compete. I’m not saying I’m any more talented than them, but with age comes maturity, and I’ve clearly grown into my mature body at twenty-two.
Releasing my bra hook and tossing my lace thong into the hamper, I climb into the shower. Relishing in the scalding water, I bring my face under the hot spray and run my hands through my long blonde hair. Letting out a long sigh from sheer relaxation, I close my eyes and see Jeremy’s face as he fills my thoughts and warms my body even more. I envision him trailing his hands on more than just my face and hips as he runs them over my bare chest and in between my legs and whispers dirty thoughts into my ear. In that instant, I see his shirt pulled off over his head and his pants quickly unzipping to expose his arousal that’s evident through his tight boxer briefs. Hey, this is my erotic dream. He will not have on tighty whities. Hell no! I don’t care how good Jamie Dornan looks in those Calvin Klein ads. So, boxer briefs it is! As I am dreaming, his boxer briefs…oh, yes, I glide my fingers just above the inside fold of the elastic band, slowly tugging down to reveal his throbbing…Ding!…Ding!…What the hell?! My eyes shoot open as I try to slow my pulse…Ding!…Turning off the water, I open the shower door, grab my towel and wrap it around my body, squeezing the water out of my hair as I make my way into the other room. Ding! I look around and pick up my phone from the coffee table. Two missed calls and two new texts. How long was I in the shower?
Glancing down, I pull up the icons. I open the missed text messages and read the first one.
Hey Emily! It’s Sue. Hope u don’t mind but I got your # from Jeremy. How does he have your # anyway? He told me to stay in touch with u, something about he’d never kiss & tell. IDK?! It was gr8 seeing u today, we ought to catch up more when you have a little xtra time. Call me.
Apparently, Jeremy is now going to make sure I have Suzanne to keep an eye on me as well. At least he didn’t say anything to her about the kiss in the parking lot. I know for a fact if she finds out, she’ll take it upon herself to know every single detail. Most of the stuff I’ve learned about sex and human anatomy I give credit to Suzanne after our afternoon shopping for her prom dress.
I save Suzanne’s phone number into my contacts just in case and move onto the next text.
I see you are already avoiding my phone calls. Don’t worry. I’m not giving up just yet.
Listen to “I Won’t Give Up.” Know u are worth it. Goodnight, Emily. Don’t wait too long to start living your dreams. Someday they might actually come true.
I return to my bedroom as I pull up YouTube to search for the song he mentioned. I lie down on my large comfy comforter, hugging my pillows as I stare at the sheer fabric draped over the top beams of my four-poster bed. I hear Jason Mraz’s lyrics pour out of him and into my soul. This hockey player, who throws punches during games and is the epitome of rough and tough, references a song about not giving up on “us,” and even if I need my space, he’ll be there when I figure it all out. I’m not even sure how or why a stray tear falls down the side of my cheek. In twenty-two years, my parents have never given me one ounce of love or support for what I might want to do in my life. Then, there’s Jeremy, who I’ve been around for all of about four hours, and he’s somehow connected with me more in that short time, and it honestly scares the shit out of me. I don’t even think; I just roll over, grab my phone, and start typing.
I’m not sure when and I’m not sure how you managed to actually see “me,” but I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily. Give me time to think, and I’ll make time for “us” and that date. You have my word this time. Night, Jeremy.
I jump off my bed and walk to my French doors, grabbing both handles and opening them into the room. Walking outside onto my small balcony, I sit under the starry sky and lie back in the chaise lounge. I shut my eyes slowly and see his big, brown eyes staring back at me. I’m not sure how my life just got even more complicated than it was yesterday, but maybe it’s time for me to really consider my future. What if this is my last chance at the Olympics? I know this isn’t forever. I’ve just got to figure out how my parents will handle that revelation. Jeremy might be willing to fight for me to go one direction in life, but I know for a fact, my parents will be fighting for me to go in another direction.
As I’m finally sitting in my apartment living room after getting all my hockey gear for the new season ready to go, “Sail” pumps through my stereo system, mentally preparing me for what hopefully will be another successful season with the Monarchs. The bass gets my blood pumping. In not so many words, I have to wonder if not being drafted into the NHL is a blessing in disguise since I’m still living in the area near my family and friends instead of moving all over the place. With the Monarchs, the pay isn’t nearly as good; however, the number of games is significantly less and that still allows me to spend time helping out with the kids in Pee Wee hockey at my old rink. During the regular season, I’ll typically swing by and help out my old coaches, and the kids think it’s great.
Just as I’m packing everything into my hockey bag, my phone starts ringing. I glance at the screen, and see it’s Dave. He and I go way back to Pee Wee hockey at the Forum. It’s funny in so many ways because he never really left the rink and is currently the front office manager at the Forum and sometimes fills in at the pro shop. He’s one of my best friends, and if he’s calling, he must either be in the area and wants to grab a drink or is looking for me to play a little one-on-one at the rink.
I slide my finger across the screen. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” I ask, walking toward the kitchen to grab a beer.
“Hey, asshole! Where the fuck have you been all day? I tried calling earlier and got sent right to voicemail,” Dave states, as if I should answer every time he calls.
“Yeah, sorry, I was out with Court, Josh, Suzanne …and uh…Emily Cameron,” After that name leaves my mouth, I wait for it.
“Shut the fuck up! The Emily Cameron?! As in the one from the Forum back in high school?”
“The one and only. Sue ran into her at the mall and took her hostage for lunch at the Nines.”
“And?”
“And what?” I ask, knowing exactly why Dave is pressing the issue. He and Josh are the only two people who know how long I waited for that girl to call me back in high school. The call that never came.
“Dude, don’t hold out on the details. I know how you were the summer after we graduated from high school. It’s like that phone was connected to your hip permanently. Emily Cameron is the one girl you couldn’t smooth talk into going out with you. So…?”
I know if I don’t give him any details he’ll never leave this alone, whatever this is with Emily. Sighing, I say, “We all had lunch. I may have said something rude, and she took off running again. I stopped her in the parking lot. We talked, and …we might have kissed.” And, I wait for it again.
“I’m coming over. Get the beer pong table ready! You’re spilling the details.”
Shit! I’m totally fucked now. Dave knows he kicks my ass in beer pong every time, which means he’ll get the entire story from start to finish.
Pulling out the table from the storage closet, I make more noise than necessary, because the scratching of claws against the hardwood floors seems to follow me back toward the kitchen. I put down the table and turn around to see my four-legged roommate, Aspen. He’s my three-year-old Bernese Mountain dog and the best company when I
need someone to listen to, even when he doesn’t understand the words coming out of my mouth.
“Hey, boy! C’mere. Do you want a treat before all the chaos starts in the house?” Woof. Aspen sits his butt on the floor, keeping his body perfectly still, well, everything is still except for his tail going a mile a minute. Reaching into the jar on the kitchen counter, I grab a biscuit and toss it to him. Leaping up, he grabs it and darts off back to my bedroom where his bed is setup. He’ll probably stretch his neck out to see what’s going on in the house in a little bit, but other than that, he’s the mellowest dog I’ve seen. I sometimes envy his life.
Fifteen minutes later, Dave walks through my door with a thirty pack of Bud Light in one hand and a bag of red Solo cups in the other. I give him a questioning glare as to why a thirty pack.
He starts placing the beers inside the fridge and looks at me. “Had to get thirty just in case one game isn’t enough for the whole story…and I will get the whole story.” He points a finger at me while cracking open the first beer and half-filling the Solo cups. “House rules, for every shot I make, you have to answer one of my questions. For every one of the shots you hit, I’ll give you fifteen minutes of free ice time at the Forum,” he says as he finishes pouring the beer into the plastic cups on the table.
“Well, it’s a good thing I live here because I have a feeling I might be drinking most of those beers and not getting any ice time.” I laugh.
“Okay, let’s get this game started.” Dave rolls the ping-pong ball around in his hand, blowing on it while giving me a stare. Basically, he is silently saying I’m fucked! He lines up behind the board, staring at the triangle of cups at the other end. He lets the ball sail out of his hand, and it floats down, ringing the top of one of the cups before falling into the beer.
“Shit! All right, let me have it.”
“How did you end up kissing Emily Cameron and still manage to keep your balls in tact?” Dave asks as he leans against the kitchen counter.
“It kind of just happened, and she actually wanted me to kiss her, I think. Her body was telling me she did, anyway. I mean, I’ve kissed plenty of girls before, but none of them hold a candle to Emily. I don’t know what it is about her. I’m still trying to figure it out,” I explain as I chug back my first pong cup and set it to the side.
“Wait. So, the ice queen of Andover wanted you to kiss her? Sorry, man, but I just can’t see it. That girl had you by the balls after graduation, and you were only waiting on her phone call. What the fuck are you gonna do now that you’ve kissed her?” Dave pushes off the counter and heads to grab the ping-pong ball off the table.
“Hey! I believe that is a second question, and you haven’t hit that shot yet,” I point out as he sets up his angle behind the table.
“That’s how you’re gonna play.” Dave sighs and tosses the ball across the table, sinking another one. “Now, answer.”
I shake my head, thinking seriously he must practice playing this all day long because there is no way he can sink balls every shot. Ha! Well, not only is he “King of the Pong Table,” he’s also a charmer of the female species. I swear he goes to my hockey games more for the girls than to watch me play.
“I’m waiting, dude,” Dave says, chucking back a cup of beer.
“When did I make a shot?”
“You didn’t, but I was getting thirsty just standing here.”
“Fine, so back to your interrogation. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about Emily. I mean, I told her she wasn’t getting away without a fight this time around, but she’s still scared. I think it’s more to do with her parents than her, but she won’t come out and say it to my face. I had Sue text Emily to make her think she’s reaching out as a friend, and I tried calling her before, but it went to voicemail.”
“Let me guess. You didn’t leave a message, again.”
“Well, no, I sent her a text instead.”
“Has she texted you back?” I cross my arms over my chest, leaning up against the back of my sofa and giving Dave a taunted look while nodding toward the beer pong table. “Really? Fine.” He sunk it again.
Shaking my head at his talent, I respond, “No, she hasn’t replied yet.”
“Dude, I get it, really I do. I mean, I’ve seen her pictures and she’s gorgeous, but is that something you want to try to finagle with all you’ve got going on during the hockey season?” I stand there staring and silent after his questions. Dave huffs and turns to the counter, grabbing all the ping-pong balls, and one after another, he sinks the rest into the cups. Serious talent that goes unnoticed. “There, happy now? Game over. I win. Now, talk.”
Just as I’m about to speak up about how I have no idea how I would anticipate ever having a possible relationship with Emily, my phone whistles at me from the coffee table in the living room. I walk over and pick it up, unlocking the incoming text. A smile forms across my face as I see her words written plain as day on my phone.
I’ll make time for us.
Dave comes over with two cups in his hand. “What? Dude, you lost. Drink up. I’ll even help you out.”
“You’re too kind, but back to your last question. I have no idea how anything with Emily will work, but if she’s willing to try, then in my book, we’re good. And, she’s already responded to my earlier text. So far, that’s more progress than I had eight years ago.”
“Well, I hope it works out for you, because if you go into that funk like you did before, you’re going to get kicked off the Monarchs team, and if that happens, it will really put a damper on my sex life.”
“So glad to know you openly admit to using my hockey career to benefit your sex life,” I chide, knowing that Dave hangs out with me after games just to hit on girls at the pubs.
After sucking back the rest of the beer pong cups, I put away the table and grab another beer from the fridge and sit back in the living room with Dave. Turning on the television, I quickly flip to the local sports channel to watch the chatter about this year’s NHL season. It hurts that my time to get brought up to the majors slips further away each year, but I’m still skating, and that’s all that matters. After today, another part of me thinks had I not been here, and instead playing in the majors, my arms would have never been wrapped around Emily, and I would have never been able to give her the first kiss of her life. Letting out a long exhale, I grab my beer and bring it to my lips as I flop back in the chair and throw my feet up on the coffee table.
I see Dave glancing my way from the other end of the sofa. “Aww, shit, man. I know that look. I swear to you. If you do this again, I will beat your head in with that hockey stick.”
“I know she’s worth it. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling.”
“You have a ‘feeling.’ Fuck, we’re going to need more beer, and clearly, I’m staying over, so I better go put my bags in the spare bedroom.”
“Your bags?! As in plural? How long are you staying?”
“Well, let’s see. The last time it took you three months. I hope this time it won’t be that long of a recovery period,” Dave states as he walks back down the hall to the spare room. I hear some rustling and then a squeaky toy. Woof woof. He must have found Aspen. The toy flies down the hall, landing directly on my head just as Aspen searches around the room for it.
“What the hell was that for?”
“If you think that hurt, what do you think that hockey stick will feel like? Keep that in mind before you fall all over Emily Cameron again. You feel me? ‘Cuz that hockey stick won’t hurt nearly as much as your heart will if you get too close. You don’t exactly have the best track record with chicks. Need I remind you of Becca? I’m just glad after that whole incident you didn’t consider any steady relationships after that.”
I sit, silently taking in all that he has said and gently rubbing Aspen’s floppy ears as his tongue dangles out of his mouth. It scares me to think I never considered serious relationships after Becca simply because I never had time. I’d have random hook-ups aft
er games and go back to the chick’s place, but they were always too easy, too much like Becca. In it for the status only, they would go back to their girlfriends and tell them they screwed a hockey player. At least I didn’t have to use more than one hand to count how many girls I’d been with. With Emily, I’ve already tainted her. After finding out she’d never been kissed until today, I’ve had my mind made up since she challenged me at lunch and then licked that sugar rim off her glass that I’m fighting for her, whether I get hurt again or not. I’m not backing away, even if it burns me again.
Looking up from Aspen’s soft eyes, I say to Dave, “If I’m going to go through hell and back again, at least it’s going to be her I’m doing it for. Call me crazy, but I’m going all in on this one. I just hope luck is on my side.”
“You’ll have no problem getting to hell; you’ve seen her mother. That’s not going to be easy to get through, but for some reason, I think you’ll handle her better than anyone. She’s totally not going to be into you for a status fuck, but if you are going to go to battle for a girl, at least it’s one as smoking hot as Emily. Best of luck, man. You’re gonna need it, but I’ll have your back if you need me.”
“Thanks. Somehow I have a feeling I may just need you for support in the not so distant future.”
“Whatever you need, man. Now, enough of this relationship sappy shit. Let’s find me some hot chicks on TV wearing little to no clothing, preferably with large tits.”
“Here, take the remote. Find whatever you want. I’m heading to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Just, please, whatever you do, do not whack off on my sofa!”
