I strip out of my clothes and toss them in the basket and finally walk into the shower. I let the hot water run over me, closing my eyes. The only thing that comes to my mind is Zoe and the way her toes are now painted a deep red. The way her skin shines in the sun, the way her stomach goes in at the side showing you her abs, and the way her ass fills out those yoga pants. I don’t stop my hand from gripping my cock. One time, I think to myself. I’ll just fantasize about her this one time, and then next time, I’ll watch porn. I think about her riding me, her hair swinging from side to side as my hands grip her hips. My mouth taking one of her nipples in my mouth. Another one of her on her hands and knees in front of me, my hands still gripping her hips while she looks back at me.
I don’t think I stroke myself more than ten times before I come with her name on my lips in a whisper. When I open my eyes, the guilt washes over me, so I switch the water from hot to cold and stand in it to clear my thoughts.
The official start to the season is next Saturday. I already asked my parents if they wanted to fly in, but with my father and his own coaching schedule, it was impossible. So I gave my tickets to Jeffrey, and he and his son-in-law are going to come.
The whole week goes off without a hitch, and nothing out of the ordinary happens. Matthew tells me that my mandatory urine test came back clean. No surprise at that. I’ve only woken up drenched in sweat three out of the five days in the past week. I’ve also binge watched two seasons of 90 Day Fiancé. I’m dying to talk to her about it, but I don’t text her. After I let myself think about her in the shower, I knew it was getting just a bit out of hand, so I’ve kept my distance. But it’s the game opener tonight, so I know I’ll see her, and whether I want to admit it, I’m really excited.
The organization is going big for the season opener, as they usually do, and all the family members are invited to an after party at a pub close to the arena. They are shutting it down for us, which is good, and I have also invited Jeffrey. I wanted my parents to be there, and I don’t know why it bothers me because I should be used to it by now.
I slip on my blue suit jacket and look in the mirror. My eyes are a lighter blue today, and it’s probably because of the color of my suit.
I grab a taxi and head to the arena. I’m walking in the same time some other players are walking in, and I spot a camera crew setting up to film the arrivals of the players for the season openers. I keep my head down the whole time and don’t look up for them to see me. But it doesn’t work because one of them calls out my name. I look up and smile right before walking into the arena and away from their prying eyes. The beating of my heart is so hard and loud it echoes in my ears. My hands are clammy, and my whole body feels like one giant nerve ready to explode or vomit.
The hallways are packed with people and the press. The music coming from the outside pounds through. “This is going to be fun,” Mark, our goalie, says to me. “Don’t get undressed right away. Oliver wants us to go out there and meet some of the fans,” he says, walking to the locker room. He and I have spoken a bit but not much which is why he has the nickname of Private Mark. He seems like a decent guy, but he’s huge at six feet four.
I walk into the locker room, and Mark was not wrong. Oliver stands in the middle of the room wearing a suit that has the team logo all over him. “Is that custom made?” I ask him.
“Of course, it is,” he says, looking down at the suit. “Every year, I get one made.”
“Interesting,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“I need you to take that sexy Russian behind out to greet some of the fans,” he tells me. “Half the team is out there already.” I am about to ask him if I really have to when he says, “You really need to. Now go out there. Max twenty minutes.”
I nod at him and walk out to the masses. A couple of fans come up to me and ask me to sign their jerseys and pose for some pictures. I spot a couple of the rookies, Jeremy and Benjamin.
“It’s a madhouse,” Benjamin says. “I think I saw one of the Game of Throne chicks walking around here somewhere.”
“Forget her. Have you seen Evan’s sister-in-law?” Jeremy says. “I got a boner the second she turned around.” It takes everything I have to put my hands in my pockets instead of around his tiny little punk ass throat.
“A little advice,” I say, looking around for her. “It might not be a good idea to go for the captain’s sister-in-law.” I look back at them. “Besides, you really don’t want to piss off Matthew.” They both swallow now, and I see their Adam’s apple move.
It doesn’t take me long to spot her, and the minute I do, I smile. She is squatting down talking to Max’s little girl while she holds her hand. When she stands up, I take in her outfit. Dark blue jeans that mold her with rips on the front. Her long-sleeved light gray sweater is fully conservative; it even goes to her neck. Her wavy hair is down, and her shoes match the color of her sweater. I don’t know what the big deal is, I think to myself. And then she turns around, and I stop breathing. I hold my breath as the back of her shirt swoops all the way down to her ass, showing you her whole bare back. A back that is perfect, a back that has way too much skin showing, and a back that has no bra strap.
I make my way to Evan, who is standing near her. “How long are you here for?” I ask him, and just then, Zoe finally looks over, and our eyes meet. I try to steady my heartbeat and make it as casual as I can by nodding my head at her. She smiles at me and repeats the same thing to me.
“I’m trying to keep the rookies away from that one,” he says, pointing at Zoe. “M&M gave me orders to cover her up with my jacket if I have to,” he says, and I look at Zoe, who can hear him and just rolls her eyes.
“How am I supposed to find a man if I have everyone covering me up?” she asks us. We all look at her, but no one answers her.
“Here,” Matthew says to her, handing her a plastic bag with the team logo on it. “I just bought this for you.” Max is beside him, trying not to laugh.
She snatches the bag from Matthew, and Max bends to pick up his daughter, kissing her neck. I watch as she puts her arms around his shoulders. “You will never give me trouble like Auntie Zo Zo, right?”
“I’m not wearing this,” she says, throwing the bag back at Matthew.
“It’s the team jersey,” he says. “You have to support.”
“It’s a men’s large,” she says, and then looks at him, and I see she is spinning something, and I can’t help but smile. “Actually, I can wear this with a belt, and it can be a dress.” She tries to snatch the bag back, but Matthew is faster. “I mean, these shoes don’t go with the outfit, but I can make it work.” And just like that, I picture her wearing nothing but the jersey. I also picture her against a wall somewhere with the jersey pulled way up there while I’m buried in her.
I’m taken out of my daydream when Matthew claps his hands. “Okay, we have to go,” he says, then leans over and kisses Alex in Max’s arms. She blocks her neck, so he has to kiss her cheek. “You are pretty just like your mommy,” he says to her, and she smiles.
“Give her to me,” Zara say, reaching for her, but she shakes her head.
“Come on, sweet pea,” Zoe says, holding out her hand, and she lunges for her. Zoe sets her on her hip, and I take her in as she whispers in Alex’s ear, “Tell Uncle Evan to break a leg.”
“Break a leg,” she says softly, then turns back to Zoe. “Now can I have candy?”
We all laugh but turn to walk back into the dressing room. I take a second to look back over my shoulder. I know I shouldn’t, but I do anyway. She is walking away from us now, her hair swinging left and right while she does it. The only one who actually sees me looking at her is Alex, who waves at me and then turns around to talk to her aunt.
“Get your head in the zone,” I mumble to myself. “The zone is the only place you have to be.”
Chapter Sixteen
Zoe
“How long is it again?” I ask Zara while I sip my wine and watch the game. Usually, I
sit up in the suite, but now, I’m sitting in the chairs right outside next to Zara and Karrie. Allison and Vivienne are sitting in front of us, having their own conversation. From back when Matthew started playing here, my parents bought a lodge in the arena, and Karrie’s father, Doug, who owns the team has the lodge right next to us, so there is one huge room with couches where you can watch the game and eat and drink. It’s almost like a living room. A counter with four barstools separates you from the seats in the arena, which is where we are sitting now.
“How”—Karrie turns to me—“do you have hockey all in your family, and you don’t know anything about it?”
I throw my head back and groan. “What don’t you guys understand! I don’t actually like hockey?”
“She never did,” Allison pipes in from in front of me, taking a sip of her wine. The good news about having a suite is that the kids have their own section so they are always busy and not all over us.
“It’s not a foreign concept,” I tell them. “I come so I can eat and drink for free. It’s called socializing.” Taking another sip of my wine, I try not to see if I can spot Viktor from the players on the bench.
“And take pictures,” Vivienne says, turning to nod her head. “You have the best selfies.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling. “See, someone actually gets me.”
“You know who else gets you? Viktor,” Zara says from beside me, and I whip my head in her direction. “What? I swear he was looking at her like he hasn’t had a meal in a year.”
“He was not,” I say, shaking my head and thinking he looked so good in that suit he had on. He stood with his hands in his pockets, and that pose made his arms fill it out even more. I swear it looked like he was going to bust out of it a la hulk style. “We are friends. How many times do I have to say it to you?”
“Would you bang him?” Vivienne looks at me to ask the question, and I shake my head and lie. It’s such a lie I’m surprised my nose isn’t poking her in the face. “Seriously, you can’t say no to that. He’s hot. Look at him,” she says, pointing at the jumbotron that now shows his face. When the game started, they introduced the team one at a time, and they skated out by number. The only ones out of place were the captain and the two assistants. Viktor was second to last because he was assistant. Something that apparently just happened tonight also. The crowd went wild when he came out, and I just watched him skate to center ice and hold up his hand to the spectators. His eyes were blue, and his smile tight, but you could tell he was nervous when he skated to the blue line with the rest of the players and he shook his hands at his sides.
“I don’t bang hockey players,” I tell her, “unlike someone I know.”
“Please,” Vivienne says. “I’m still so thirsty, you have no idea. It’s like I’m a camel in the desert. Dry. Seche.” She says the French word for dry. “I swear, I went to the gyno the other day, and he had to use extra lube.”
“Dryness comes with age,” Karrie says, and you would think that she just slapped Vivienne in the face.
“Bitch, I’m as old as you are,” Vivienne says. “How much lube do you have to use?” The minute she asks that, Allison, Zara, and I all groan. If we didn’t have wine glasses, we would have covered our ears.
“Don’t answer that!” I scream, and it happens at the same time as the other team scores, and boos fill the arena. “Shit,” I say, looking at the replay and seeing that it was the third line on the ice.
“Well, at least it wasn’t our guys,” Zara says quietly.
“We don’t have guys. You have a guy,” I tell her and get up to refresh my drink. I’m pouring another glass when I hear the whole crowd gasp.
I look at the television screen and see that one of the guys on the other team tried to hit Viktor in the back of the head. Of course, Viktor turned around, and then the pushing started. I don’t know what the guy said, but one second, they are face-to-face, and the next second, the stick goes flying, the gloves go flying, and all you see is Viktor grab the guy by the shirt and punch him square in the face. “Oh my God.” I gasp when the guy tries to hit Viktor, but he doesn’t stand a chance. The referee has to break them up, and Viktor skates to the penalty box. “Dad,” I call my father, and he turns from the bar and comes over. “Why is he in the box?”
“What?” He looks at me confused.
“Why did he get put in the box? He was defending himself,” I tell him. “The guy tried to hit him.”
My father looks at the replay on the television screen and then at me, back and forth maybe four times. “You’re asking me about hockey.”
“Oh my God, Dad,” I groan. “Just … I don’t get it.”
“It’s retaliation,” my father says. “If he would have let it go, the other guy would have gone to the box, but Viktor dropped his gloves.”
“Well, yeah, but,” I start saying, and I look at my father.
“Honey,” he says softly, “I really think …”
“Dad, seriously, I’m not the least bit interested in him,” I say, and with him, he can’t tell if I’m lying, so he just smiles.
“Are you coming back to our house for lunch tomorrow?” he asks me.
“No, I have a showing for a special client,” I tell him and look back at the screen and see Viktor on the screen. “How long is he in the box for?” I ask, and he points at the timer under the score of the game. It’s a tied game, and there is forty seconds left in the game and ten seconds left in his penalty. Viktor stands up in the box, waiting for his time to get back on the ice. Just when they open the door for him to get back on the ice, Evan poke checks it out of the zone, slipping the puck straight to Viktor. It looks like he’s running on the ice, but I think it’s him skating faster. I hold my father’s arm as I watch him go one on one with the goalie. Holding my breath, I watch as he goes left to right and then he fakes one way and the goalie goes that way, but he stays there, and he actually scores. “Ahhhhh!” I scream and jump. My mother looks over at me, her eyes fixated on me while my father turns to high-five Matthew. The horn goes off, and the crowd stands on their feet and cheers.
The announcer says Viktor’s and Evan’s name, and the crowd is still on their feet. They line up for a face-off again, and this time, the only thing that happens is they drop the puck and the horn sounds, telling us the game is over. I walk over to the entrance of the box and the seats and stand there when they announce the three stars of the game. I’m watching when they announce him as the first star.
He skates out and does a turn, tossing pucks into the crowd, and then they pull him for an interview. The jumbotron shows him standing next to the reporter, and I watch him with a sense of pride.
“Viktor, game one of the season and already on the scoreboard.” He smiles at him, and Viktor cracks a little bit of a smirk. “How did it feel?”
“It’s great,” he says, and I am so happy for him I could explode. “It’s great to be a part of this amazing organization.”
“The fans have been sporting those Petrov jerseys. How does it feel to see them?”
“It feels amazing,” he says, looking into the stands, and I see the nervousness he had before the game is gone. He was quiet, and I knew this was because he was “getting in the zone.”
“I’m just thankful they have welcomed me with open arms, and I can’t wait to make them proud.” I want to clap my hands and applaud him.
“Well said,” the reporter says and then shakes his hand. Viktor skates back to the bench and then makes his way to the back.
~*`~
The lights in the pub are dim, and tables are scattered everywhere. No one is here yet, so we grab two tables in the back corner where we always sit. By the time we sit down and order drinks, the room has started filling up. Evan comes in about thirty minutes later, and the music is starting to play now. “Hey,” I say when he nods at me and grabs Zara for a kiss. Matthew and Max follow him and go to grab their wives. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say, getting up and going to the
bathroom. My eyes scan the room, looking to see if he’s here, and I smile at a couple of wives who I recognize on the way. When I walk out of the bathroom I come face-to-face with the man who I’m going out of my way to avoid and not think about.
He spots me and smiles. “Hey, you.”
“Hey there, Rocky,” I say, laughing while he shakes his head. “A nice right hook,” I say, chucking his chin, and he throws his head back. He then looks to the right where an older gentleman stands next to him, and I wonder if it’s his father. “Hi,” I say, putting out my hand. “I’m Zoe.”
“Jeffrey,” he says, grabbing my hand and smiling.
“Jeffrey,” Viktor says. “This is Zoe, my friend and real estate agent.” I try not to cringe at friend. “Zoe, this is my sponsor, Jeffrey.”
“It’s nice to finally meet the one who got him settled,” Jeffrey says, smiling.
“Did you enjoy the game?” I ask him, and my voice is a touch louder than normal since the music is playing. The pub is now full, and it’s getting hard to move without bumping into someone.
“It was amazing,” he says, looking at Viktor. “Minus the whole ‘Rocky’ moment.”
“Yeah, well, not every day you get called a junkie,” Viktor says. My head snaps back to him, and the smile is gone. In its place is anger.
“What did you just say?” I ask him. “I don’t think I heard you properly.” I watch him and ignore that Jeffrey is now looking at me intently.
“Nothing,” Viktor says. “Just words on the ice. They say things to get under your skin and into your head.”
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