Page 88 of Daring the Hockey Player
I head back to my room, grab a fresh change of clothes to shower, and glance at his bedroom. The bed is made, the lights are off, and the place looks immaculate. Even the hamper that he usually keeps beside the bed is out of sight. It's probably tucked into his closet.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I grab it before hopping into the shower. There's a message from Jasper, and I can't help but smile.
My bedsheets smelled like you last night. Is it wrong that I don't want to wash them?
TWENTY-TWO
JASPER
I spentthe last hour staring at my phone, trying to decide what I should or shouldn't text to Amber. Noah is sitting beside me on the bus, and my brother is one row in front, so at least he's oblivious to the dilemma.
Noah, however, doesn't miss a beat, ever.
"You shouldn't be that hung up on her," Noah says.
"I'm not," I say and clear my throat. I erase the message again before finally landing on one that's a bit flirty and hit send.
My bedsheets smelled like you last night. Is it wrong that I don't want to wash them?
Noah tries to peer over my shoulder at the text, but I've positioned my phone so that he can't read what I just sent Amber.
I shove my phone into my pants pocket. I have no idea what time she wakes up for school. I'm always out of the house in the morning before she even gets up for classes.
"You spent the last hour or so texting and erasing messages," Noah states the obvious.
"Whatever. We're on the bus, and I'm bored." I'm using it as an excuse because he's right, she's getting in my head, and she doesn't even know it yet.
One night. That's all we had, and we didn't even have sex yet. Not that I can't stop thinking about what it would be like to lick her pussy and drive my cock into her tight warmth.
It's all I dreamt about last night. Repeatedly.
I kept waking up in a hot sweat, and that was after it took forty-five minutes for me to fall asleep. I need to get Amber out of my head.
Usually, I'd work out and spend a couple of hours at the gym, but it's a travel day, and we're riding the bus to the airport for our next game, which doesn't mean that we get away with lounging around all day.
Coach Malone is on us the entire flight, going over plays and discussing our last couple of games. Mostly, he's recanting every score that we missed. I was hoping to listen to some music and get a couple of hours of shut-eye, but he doesn't seem to agree.
After we land in North Carolina, we're shuttled to the hotel to check in, leave our luggage in our rooms, and then meet up within the hour to bus over for practice.
I'd have rather spent a couple of hours at the hotel gym to burn off the energy coursing through me, thinking about Amber.
I need a good run, to lift some weights, anything to tire my ass out. Maybe some time on the ice will help. She's all I can think about at this rate, and I don't need the distraction.
We gear up in the locker room and head out to the arena, doing drills and practicing while we have access to the rink.
It's a good practice game with the guys, and we're cautious that no one gets hurt before tomorrow's game against the Barbarians.
"You missed an easy shot, Greyson," Coach Malone says as I head off the ice.
"Aiden's a good goalie." We both can't win when we're practicing against our own teammates.
"Even so, you had the perfect shot, and you missed. What's on your mind, kid?" Malone asks.
The guys head into the locker room, but Coach keeps me from joining them, blocking my way. I could push the guy aside, he's small and stocky, but I'm not about to bully the coach, not if I want to play tomorrow. I don't want to get benched.
"Nothing," I say, staring him in the face. I made three goals during practice, and he has to jab on the one shot that I missed.
"Something going on between you and your brother?"
