Page 45 of Hockey 101

Are you okay?

He barely focuses on me. Umm, I’m not real good in small spaces.

Then why did you suggest we hide in a closet? I want to ask, but he’s already too miserable. Can you handle a few more minutes?

Yeah, sure, he says with zero conviction.

I turn to put my ear against the door again. I can’t hear Coach Greene’s voice anymore, but there’s the sound of a filing cabinet slamming shut.

I think he’s looking for something, so hopefully he’ll be gone soon. I turn back, and Jack looks even worse—his fists clenched and his face tensed.

Oh my god, are you sweating? I whisper.

Can we get out of here? His voice is way too loud.

I take his hands in mine and try to relax his grip. Jack, close your eyes. I want you to slow your breathing. In, one-two-three. Out, one-two-three. Think about your happy place. Is it on the farm in those wide-open Saskatchewan, uh, places? Or should that be Saskatchewanian? Ugh, there’s too much happening at once.

But I’m too late to calm him. Though his eyes are closed, Jack is panting even faster now. I squeeze his clammy hands. It’s okay. Just one more minute, I say soothingly. I want to turn back to the door and listen, but he’s got a death grip on my hands.

His eyes fly open. Fuck. I don’t think I can do this.

Shhh, I caution. His voice is deep and carrying. If the coach hears, he’s definitely going to check in here. And then both of us will be in trouble, Jack for whatever practice rules he’s broken, and me—someone who’s barely accepted around here already—for messing up again. I’ve lured poor, innocent Jack into trouble with my feminine wiles. Ha.

Well, desperate times, right? Even though poor Jack seems to be on the verge of a meltdown, I’m hyperaware of being pressed right up next to him. As I watch him swallow, all I can see are the muscles flexing in his neck. I recall the hidden parts—his smooth, defined chest, his round nipples, that tiny maple leaf.

I am so ready to make the sacrifice to distract him.

Jack’s lips part, but before he can say anything, I raise my face to his and kiss him.

13

DRIVEN TO DISTRACTION

JACK

AT FIRST WHEN Andy kisses me, it feels weird—like the room was spinning one way and now it’s spinning in the opposite direction. Her kiss is gentle and earnest, like she’s trying really hard to distract me. It feels like I’m watching us kiss, rather than actually kissing her.

Then she really puts everything into it—crushing her arms around my neck, kissing me harder, and teasing my lips with her tongue. And when Andy presses her body up against mine, all the blood from my stupid brain rushes to my cock. I can feel her soft breasts against my chest. How many times have I fantasized about what her body would feel like? Sweet and yielding in a way that the real Andy never is. But now she curves into me like we were meant to be.

I wrap my arms tightly around her, trying to pull her even closer. I kiss her back, nipping at her full lips and darting my tongue into her mouth. She tastes both sweet and spicy, which is so Andy.

When my elbow almost knocks over a mop handle, I manoeuvre her around until she’s pressed up against the wall. My mouth moves over her smooth cheek and along the curve of her jaw. I nip at the lobe of her ear, her stud earring scratchy against my lip. I reach up to pull away her collar, revealing the pale skin of her throat. I lick a line down her neck to her collarbone. Her skin is hotter where the rise of her breasts begins and when I taste her there, Andy lets out a soft moan that makes me even harder.

But when I unzip her jacket and cup her incredible breasts, she grabs my wrists.

Jack, no. We have to stop.

I’m emerging from a daze, my brain functions slowly coming back. I take my hands off her and lean my forehead against the wall with Andy still tucked beneath me.

Sorry. I got carried away, I mutter.

It’s okay. I started it. She squeezes my wrists, then wriggles out from under me and adjusts her clothes. She puts her ear to the door.

I don’t hear anything. Maybe he’s gone. How about if I go out there first? I can’t get suspended from the team.

I shake my head. It’s not Andy’s job to save me from my own screwups. Cori hated my weaknesses—my claustrophobia, my tears at sad movies, my naïveté. Don’t be such a wimp, Jack. The twin heats of embarrassment and anger rush through my bloodstream.

How about I go out and act like a fucking man? If I get in trouble, so be it.

---