The Game That Breaks Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “What?” I say, confused. “Wait, the moving with Cuba Gooding Jr.?”

  “That’s the one.” He presses some buttons and the movie begins to play.

  “I cannot believe you own Snow Dogs let alone want to watch it.” I shake my head. “You keep on surprising me.”

  He smiles. “As do you, Princess.”

  He wiggles around and gets comfortable and the movie starts.

  My eyes grow heavy and he sighs, lifting his arm in invitation. I look at him reluctantly. I know I shouldn’t, but …

  I move and snuggle against his side, resting my head on his chest.

  Since I can’t see, I can’t be sure, but I’d swear he kisses the top of my head.

  This … This feels good.

  Normal even.

  And I have to remind myself over and over again that it’s not real.

  We’re not a couple, and I don’t even know if we’re friends.

  Besides, he’s using me to get what he wants, just as I’m using him to show me how to be bad.

  It’s not real.

  It’s not real.

  It’s not real.

  Then why does it feel so damn right?

  I blink my eyes open, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. I’m confused at first but then I remember coming to Bennett’s apartment after he confronted his coach.

  I’m in the guestroom, but the last thing I remember is falling asleep on the couch so Bennett must have carried me to bed.

  I sit up fully, the sheets pooling at my waist. The beginning rays of sunlight break through the blinds, and I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It shows that it’s a little after seven in the morning.

  I don’t know what time Bennett will want to head back, so I decide to get up and be ready. I head across the hall to shower and find that there aren’t any towels or soap.

  I sigh and tentatively tip-toe down the hall to his room. I push the door open and find that his bed is rumpled from sleep, but empty.

  He probably went to the gym or something. I figure there’s no harm in raiding his bathroom for what I need, but as soon as I reach the half open door, I realize that was a mistake.

  He’s just turned the shower on and he opens the glass door, stepping inside.

  He doesn’t know I’m there.

  I should turn.

  Run.

  Get my ass out of there.

  But I can’t.

  I’m frozen, held prisoner by my own body.

  It’s wrong, but I stare at him. At the smooth planes of his back and the firmness of his ass.

  Standing here is so wrong. So wrong. I’d be embarrassed to know he was watching me like this, and yet still I cannot move.

  He turns then and I stifle a gasp by biting my lip. My whole body clenches, and a shiver runs down my spine.

  He’s beautiful. He’d probably sneer at me if I ever said that out loud, but it’s the truth.

  I lick my lips and I stare at him for only a few seconds longer, before I force myself away. I run back to the safety of my room and dive under the covers. Now that I’m away from his potent presence, I feel ashamed of my actions. He had no idea I was there and I was staring like some kind of pervert. But even with my shame, I still feel so incredibly turned on. My body is tight all over with the need for a release I’ve never really had.

  “Hey.”

  I squeak at the sound of his voice. He saw me.

  I pop my head up from beneath the covers, pretending to just be waking up. He stands in the doorway in a pair of loose shorts, his chest glistening with water and his hair damp.

  Fuck, he’s way too good-looking for his own good.

  “Good, you’re up,” he says. “Wanna go get breakfast?”

  “Sure.” My voice is high-pitched and not at all natural.

  He raises a brow. “You okay?”

  “Just peachy.” I mean, it’s not like I stared at you naked or anything. “Mind if I shower first?”

  “Go ahead.” He peeks in the bathroom and pops back in the room. “I’ll grab you a towel and stuff. I forgot I never stocked that bathroom.”

  “Cool. Thanks,” I squeak again.

  He looks at me with concern and then shrugs and walks away.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know—if he did, he would’ve said something. Bennett can’t keep quiet about anything.

  I shower as quickly as possible and then we’re out the door with our bags in hand.

  Bennett drives a few blocks over from his apartment to a small restaurant hidden between two larger buildings. The place is quaint and doesn’t seem to belong in the bustling city, but I like it.

  “They have the best waffles,” Bennett tells me, sliding his menu to the end of the table.

  I slide mine over too. “Waffles sounds good.”

  He grins. “So, what do you think of Boston?”

  “I’ve been here before. I like it. No place beats home for me, though.” I shrug.

  He crosses his hands together. “Home is always special, isn’t it?”

  I nod as a waitress comes over to take our order. Bennett and I order the same special and both of us get waters to drink.

  Bennett runs his fingers over his face, and I can see how tired he looks.

  “I’m sorry about your coach,” I say. I might not know what’s really going on, but it’s obviously pretty bad. I hate that Bennett is so torn up about it—he’s a pretty carefree guy, so this is really eating at him for it to be so obvious on his face.

  He shrugs like it’s not as big of a deal as it is. “Thanks again for coming with me.” He slides the peppershaker back and forth from hand to hand. “I … It meant a lot.”

  I give him a small smile. “I’m glad me being here made you feel better.” And I’m glad you know I wasn’t staring at your dick this morning. The thought alone brings color to my cheeks.

  “Why are you blushing?” he asks wish a slight chuckle.

  “No reason.” I look away and up at the TV that plays a news morning show.

  “Is it because you saw me naked?” My mouth pops open and he grins. “I thought I saw you.” He chuckles. “I never would’ve expected you to be a peeping Tom.”

  My face turns as red as a tomato. “It was an accident.”

  “But you didn’t run away,” he comments. I have no comeback for that and he knows it. “I take it you like what you saw?” He raises one brow. The waitress leaves our drinks and I rip into my straw. “I’ll take that as, ‘Oh yes, Bennett, you have the finest ass I’ve ever seen.’ I’m sure your thoughts on my cock were much dirtier.”

  I nearly pass out in the booth. “Shut up.”

  “Don’t be such a prude, Grace. It’s just a word. Cock. Say it.”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Don’t make me stand on the table and shout it,” he threatens. “You know I will.”

  He pushes his hands against the table and begins to stand. “Cock,” I whisper.

  He tilts his head to the side. “That was pathetic, Princess. You sound like you’re scraping dirt off your pointy shoes and it’s killing you inside. Say it like you mean it.”

  My eyes shift around uneasily. “Cock,” I say it a little louder.

  He grins. “You can do better than that.”

  “Bennett,” I hiss. “We’re in a restaurant.”

  “I don’t care.” He leans back in the booth, stretching his arm along the back. He’s the picture of ease. Meanwhile, I’m squirming.

  I look around again and everyone in the restaurant seems to be occupied.

  “Cock,” I say louder this time.

  “That was good.” He grins like the cat that ate the canary. “Now say, “Bennett, your cock is a glorious—”

  I throw his ice-cold water on him. I expect him to be mad, but instead, he busts out laughing. The waitress comes running over with napkins.

  “Oh, my God, what happened?” she asks, handing him the napkins. She stares at his chest a bit too long where
the wet cotton sticks to him. She blushes and looks away quickly.

  “Nothing. Just my girlfriend being silly.” Bennett wipes at his shirt and the table and looks up at the waitress with the most innocent of smiles. “I guess going shirtless would be frowned upon?”

  “Uh … I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but my manager would probably ask you to leave.” She blushes and holds her tray up to her chest like a shield.

  “It’s okay.” Bennett winks. “I have a shirt in the car.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he tells me, tapping his fingers against the table.

  “I’ll get you another water,” the waitress says before walking away.

  Bennett isn’t gone long. He returns in a thin muscle shirt that’s almost completely open at the sides. I think he’s trying to kill me. How is it possible that he looks so hot all the time without even trying?

  “It’s a bit chilly for this,” he pulls on his shirt as he sits down, “but it’s all I had in my gym bag that was clean.” He sniffs it then. “Yeah, it’s definitely clean.”

  “I’d apologize for throwing water at you, but it would be a lie.” I sip at my drink innocently.

  Bennett brings his hand to his mouth to hide his smile. “You’re something else.” He shakes his head, stifling a laugh.

  The waitress brings him a fresh water and he flashes her a smile. “Thanks.” She nods and disappears again. Bennett yawns. “I should’ve ordered some coffee, but I guess it’s good I didn’t. I can handle water being thrown at me. Coffee, not so much.” Bennett leans back in the booth, stretching his arm along the back. “Are you sure you have to get back to campus? Maybe we should do something.”

  “Like what?” I ask as the waitress sets our plates down.

  He shrugs. “I dunno. Go to a park or something.”

  I snort. “You? In a park? Won’t you get mobbed?” I pour syrup onto my waffles.

  “Possibly, but it’s a nice day. Probably one of the last we’ll have until it gets bitterly cold.”

  “True,” I agree. “Sure, I guess we can go for a walk. I’m sure someone will snap a photo and your manager will see it—good PR. I can see the headline now, ‘Bennett James Goes for a Walk’,” I joke.

  He throws his straw wrapper at me. “Ha-ha, you’re hysterical. I actually wasn’t thinking about the media,” he admits.

  “Oh?” I take a bite of waffle—Bennett was right, it’s one of the best waffles I’ve ever had.

  “No.” He takes a bite of his. “I just thought it would be nice.”

  My fork hovers near my mouth. “Really?”

  “Well, yeah.” He looks away awkwardly.

  “Um, okay then. A short detour won’t hurt anything.”

  He smiles. “Good. Now eat.”

  “Always so bossy.” I shake my head.

  When we’re done, Bennett wads up his napkin on the table and gives me a look. You know, the look someone gives you when they know they’re about to say something you’re not going to like.

  “So, you still want to try out life on the bad side?”

  “Yes,” I answer hesitantly.

  “Then run.”

  “What?” I look at him dumbfounded.

  “Run,” he repeats. “Number Two on ‘Bennett’s Guide to Being Bad’: Dine and Dash.”

  “You … You want me to get up and leave without paying? No, Bennett.”

  “Grace.” He gives me a stern look. “This was your idea. I’m only following through on what you asked for.”

  My eyes shift around the room and I bite my lip. “Okay.” I take a deep breath. I can do this. “I can’t do this.”

  He laughs. “Yes, you can.”

  I measure the distance between where we sit and the door. Another deep breath.

  And then I’m up and running out the door. I keep running all the way to Bennett’s car. I can hear him running behind me, his steps heavier as they thump the ground. He unlocks the car and I dive inside.

  He gets in and starts the car, pulling away quickly like we’ve just robbed a bank and not ditched our bill.

  I lean back in the seat, my chest rising and falling heavily with each labored breath. “That was … invigorating. Can we do it again?”

  He laughs outright and shakes his head. “I think we better stick to things that won’t get us in too much trouble. But it’s good to know you have a wild side, Grace.” He winks.

  My heart is still beating a mile a minute and I’m not sure it’ll ever slow down. “Am I sweating?” I feel my forehead. “I feel like I’m sweating.”

  He laughs. “No, you’re not sweating.”

  “I thought I’d feel worse about that,” I admit, finally buckling my seatbelt. “But I feel so alive.”

  “That’s how I feel on the ice,” he says with a forlorn smile.

  My high instantly vanishes and I touch his arm with hesitant fingers. “You’ll get this mess straightened out.”

  Bennett looks away from me, and I know it’s his silent way of saying he’s not so sure.

  I settle back into my seat, realizing he doesn’t want to talk.

  I look out the window at the passing scenery as he speeds down the road. We’ll be back to campus in no time if he keeps this speed up, and while I should be happy to get back to studying, I kind of don’t want this mini-trip to be over.

  I’m beginning to realize that I like Bennett way more than I should and it’s only going to hurt me in the end.

  But it’s too late now.

  It’s the first hockey game of the season and I’m not with my team like I should be. Pissed doesn’t even cover what I feel. I glare at the TV screen mounted to the wall in the bar. Coach Matthews orders the guys around on the ice, and I might hate the fucker, but I’d give anything to be out there with my team. They probably don’t want me there, though. I haven’t heard from any of the guys while I’ve been gone, not while I was hurt and not now. There’s no telling the lies Matthews has spewed.

  Matthews … the fucker is good.

  But me? I’m better.

  He thinks he has the upper-hand, but he’s wrong. He’s always underestimated me, and I’m going to use that to my advantage.

  “You look like you could use another drink.” The bartender slides another beer across the shiny wood top to me.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She winks and sways her hips suggestively before heading over to fill an order. She has glossy dark hair, a decent rack, and nice ass. A few months ago, I would’ve put on the charm and been fucking her before the night was over. But I’m a “new man” the “reformed bad boy” that “loves” his “girlfriend”. I have to keep up pretenses as far as the media’s concerned, and that means no cheating on my perfect girlfriend. Except, she’s not my real girlfriend, which means no sex for me.

  It really fucking sucks to be me right now.

  I groan and scrub my hands down my face.

  My life is one big clusterfuck, and I need to figure out how to fix it.

  My drug test for Coach Harrison came back negative—like I knew it would—so he’s continued to let me work with his team, but I’m restless. I want to be back with my team playing games. Practice isn’t enough. I need the thrill and high of playing in an arena full of screaming fans. But Coach Matthews is dragging out this drug thing and he’s probably using it to buy more time to find some other reason to keep me off the team.

  I’ve been laying low and doing my best to be the NHL’s new golden boy—unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate the bad boy stigma being so hard to shake.

  Grace and I need to up the ante. We’ve been too tame.

  I just hope she’s ready to play the game.

  I drag Grace, Elle, Ryland, Makenna, and Celine to the next home game for the Plymouth Hunters. I’d only intended to bring Grace, but Elle overheard and fangirl shrieked while begging me to get tickets for her and Ryland. I don’t even know how Makenna and Celine got into it—two girls that live across the hall from Grace and Elle
—but somehow it’s now the six of us. So much for my “date” with Grace.

  Grace took some convincing to get here. She didn’t want to go, and I had to remind her that she was my fake girlfriend and we needed to put on a show.

  She just has no idea what kind of show I have in mind.

  I take her hand as we descend the steps into the arena. It’s slow going as fans of the team stop me to sign stuff. I don’t mind, though. I smile and sign whatever the hell they want me too—except for a very large pair of boobs that’s shoved in my face. Men that are happily in love with their girlfriend don’t sign another girl’s boobs.

  We finally make it to our seats and Grace and I wind up in the middle.

  “It’s louder than I expected,” she says, looking around, unsure.

  She’s adorable when she’s nervous. “People love hockey. There’s more to life than shopping, Princess.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I know that.” She pauses. “Speaking of shopping, you still need to let me get you some new clothes.” She looks at my jeans and sweatshirt in distaste. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my style—or lack of one—but I do know dressing nicer would go a long way in reforming my image.

  I sit up and pull out my wallet, grabbing a credit card. I hold it out to her between two fingers. “Go nuts.”

  Her lips part and her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

  I nod and she takes it. “Buy yourself a date night outfit too.” I wink and I swear her breath catches.

  “R-Right,” she stutters, sliding the card into her wallet.

  Beside her, Elle squeals. “This is the best day of my life!”

  I laugh under my breath. I never would’ve pegged Grace’s emo roommate to be into hockey, but I guess it shows you should never judge a book by its cover.

  Makenna and Celine are on my side and I can hear them gossiping about how hot hockey players are. Considering we’re sitting near my teammates in the box, I won’t be surprised if a few them don’t set their sights on Makenna and Celine and take them home. Hell, I’d roll Elle into that too, but I’m pretty sure she’s hung up on Ryland, which I find hysterical seeing as they look like complete opposites.