Griz: A Fake Relationship College Hockey Romance

by E. Cleveland

  “Are you sure?” I tilt my head, but he doesn’t respond. He lets out a small snore that gives me all the answer I need.

  “Good night,” I whisper, shutting off the light. I slip into my old bed.

  It takes me longer than the three and a half seconds it took him to fall asleep, but I feel calm listening to him breathing deeply. I drift off, away from this crazy day. Away from this wedding stuff. Away from my dread for tomorrow. Everything melts away.

  16

  Horny Jack-in-the-Box

  Griz

  Sunlight slices through the blinds and cuts across my eyelids. I stretch out, blinking slowly as I try to piece together where I am. The floor was unexpected. I don’t know where I thought I was, but considering how hard I crashed, Hattie’s bedroom floor wasn’t it. The carpet is plush and cozy. I’ve woken up in much less comfortable places. I’m relaxed. It’s like all my tension eased out of my body and…went straight to my cock.

  “What the hell,” I whisper, giving it a squeeze. It throbs. I could cut glass it's so hard. Rolling onto my side, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore it. There’s no sleeping in this state. I’m horny as fuck, and there’s no way I’m ever getting to sleep again if I don’t do something about it.

  Hattie’s soft breathing is coming from the bed. Lying on her floor, jerking off next to her isn’t an option. That means I’m gonna have to tuck it in my waistband and hope I don’t accidentally salute someone on the way to the shower. I sit up to go jerk off in the bathroom like a horny teenager, but her sister’s voice stops me cold.

  “Mom, they’ve got to get up already. It’s eight o’clock.” Clementine’s voice isn’t even enough to kill this boner.

  I’m surprised it didn’t shrivel up like a fucking raisin. “Entitled Princess” is the one type of girl I won’t fuck with. Not anymore. They think that it’s the world’s job to prove they’re special. They aren’t. Just a special kind of broken.

  Imagine spending your whole life feeling like if people don’t prove their love to you then you’re worthless. They’re the most deeply miserable girls I’ve ever met. You can only ever disappoint them. Their entire life is a disappointment. If any gift could be bigger, brighter or better then it’s proof that you could’ve tried harder. You could’ve loved more.

  “Why? Nothing happens until this afternoon. They just flew in yesterday. Give them a chance to catch up on some sleep,” their mother answers.

  “The flight was two hours.” She stresses the time. “It’s not like they’re jet-lagged. The only reason they’re still sleeping is because neither of them have any respect for my wedding, and they went out drinking last night.” She sounds like a third-grader tattling to her teacher.

  I can’t believe how different they are. Hattie is so selfless. She took me all the way to Manhattan to bring a sliver of my dreams to life. That’s probably the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.

  “Mom, just move. They have to get up. They’re gonna ruin the whole day.” I wince at her whine. She’s so selfish she can’t handle that daylight is burning, and there are people in the house not making it about her.

  “You’ve got to chill. Let your sister have some fun. She’s got a new boyfriend, and she wants to live a little. You should be happy for her.”

  “So happy.” Her voice is as dead as she is inside. “Hattie actually kept a guy for more than a month. Oh, here, let me do my happy dance.” Clementine proves she’s a dick again. Surprise. I’m glad Hattie is sleeping and not listening to these asshole words coming out of her asshole mouth.

  “Clementine, just let them be. Give them another hour, anyway.” I’m on team mom. Team mom is speaking reason. Team mom wants to leave us alone. Team mom wants to get the fuck away from the bedroom door so I can go rub one out in the family bathroom.

  Anger stiffens my spine and clenches my jaw tight. Her sister keeps arguing, proving beyond any shadow of a doubt that she’s an asshole. I stand up, tired of listening to it. Despite Clementine’s dick-shrivelling voice, my cock is still hard. My body is in some kind of hormonal fucking overdrive. I glance down at Hattie, sleeping. She kicked her blanket and sheet off.

  She’s on her back, one leg out and an arm raised above her head like a superhero flying through the air. One of her tits is ninety-percent popped out of her tank top, the top of her nipple peeking out. My cock throbs painfully when I imagine teasing that nipple with my tongue. I pick up the blanket from the floor, lifting it to put over Hattie, when Clementine’s voice gets louder.

  “Fine, I’ll just do it myself!” Her footsteps give me a warning so short that I leap into the bed out of pure instinct.

  “What the hell?” Hattie jolts awake, her eyes snapping open, watching me as I land between her legs. Scrambling for the blanket, I tug it over the back side of me up to my waist. The heat from Hattie’s core welcomes my throbbing cock. I growl, using all of my restraint as I ease back from her. The door handle turns, and Clementine walks in. Hattie bucks her hips and rolls her pussy back against my hard cock.

  “Oh, fuck.” My words are guttural.

  Hattie slides her legs around my ass, and I brace my arms at each of her sides, pinning her under me. I grind my cock against her pussy and she pulls her breath in sharply. “Oh!”

  Her tank top is covered by my bare torso. She guides me closer to her until I’m covering her like a blanket, and looks up at her sister with shock.

  “Clemmie, get out.” She does this throaty voice that almost makes me cum right fucking here. Pajama pants aren’t exactly condom thin, but my cock doesn’t seem to know the fucking difference. Precum coats the tip of my cock and soaks into my underwear.

  Wasn’t I just telling Hattie my two-pump-chump days are over?

  “Oh, I didn’t know you guys were up. I… uh…”

  “Get out,” I fucking roar over my shoulder at her, partly in sexual frustration, but mostly to get her out of here before I fucking embarrass myself.

  Clementine scurries back out the door, slamming it hard behind her. Out in the hall, her mother is laughing at the whole thing. “Told you to leave them alone.” She’s laughing so hard, I imagine her doubled over. “You deserved that,” she howls. If Hattie’s sister has anything to say about it, she’s silent for once.

  Once the footsteps fade off and the laughter stops, I roll off Hattie, and we both sit up in the bed. She looks down and twists her shirt up, covering her perfect rogue tit back up. “Damned tank tops,” she hisses. “Anyway, that was interesting.” She looks like she’s trying not to smile. “Remember what you said when I told you not to sleep on the floor?” Her eyes are half-lidded in a very I-told-you-so face. A face I earned.

  “Yeah, well, I guess your family is weird.” I shrug.

  “Her face...” Hattie laughs. “I wish you saw it.”

  “I can imagine.” My cock is very painfully reminding me that it hasn’t cum.

  It pulses between my fucking legs, begging for release. Still, I smile. When she laughs, it’s impossible not to. Especially since her sister keeps trying to suck the joy out of her the same way Ursula sucked out Ariel’s voice in The Little Mermaid. Hattie’s not the only one who watched some fucking Disney movies.

  She sits up, and her smile fades. Instead, her cheeks begin to blaze so hot they almost match her hair. “Uh, sorry about the, um,” – she runs her hand down her arm and drops her voice to a whisper – “about the whole dry humping thing. You just jumped at me like a horny jack-in-the-box, and I got carried away with it. I shouldn’t have done that.” She looks up at me, and even when she’s all fucking bashful, she’s sexy.

  How long can you be hard before it’s a medical problem? I’m pretty sure it’s a big window. Don’t they give a four-hour erection warning on all those boner pills? It’s been about twenty minutes, and I’m dying. A lot of things about sex exist in that blurry line between pain and pleasure. A four-hour erection isn’t one of them. That would be torture.

  “That’s yo
ur thing, huh? Horny jack-in-the-box sounds fucking terrifying to me, but if that’s what does it for ya?” I love making her blush. I love the way her face glows over her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. “First the One Direction gang-bang-fantasy poster and now this,” she laughs but also squirms next to me, and I love it. I sit back against the wall and toss part of the blanket across my lap. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s how this works, right? “Anyway, don’t worry about it.” I get serious for a second. “I know it was just for show.” She looks relieved. “Sorry about…” I point down to my cock.

  “Don’t be.” She giggles. “Do you want to take the first shower?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” Even the suggestion makes me feel relief.

  “Alright, how about you go take care of… that.” She waves her hands around my midsection vaguely. Like she’s not sure where anything is down there. Like I didn’t just have every inch of my hard cock grinding against her warm pussy only five minutes ago.

  I can see she wants to put that whole moment behind us, and I’m happy to. Right after my shower.

  17

  Grandma’s Mysterious Hair Pin

  Hattie

  Griz and I look huge sitting at this table together. All day we’ve been meeting people of all sizes. Relatives I never knew I had have been telling me they remember when I was in diapers. The thing they all had in common – whether they were older or younger, thinner or heavier – they’re all smaller than Griz and I. This is ridiculous though. We look like giants right now.

  “I can’t believe she sat us at the kid’s table,” Griz mumbles away from the junior bridesmaid who wore him down. She’s grinning from ear to ear as she weaves a braid in his beard.

  I scan the stuffy conversations happening around us and feel suffocated just by witnessing the words drone on. Clementine’s rehearsal dinner is at the iconic Bemelmans Bar. The hand-painted walls and craftsmanship surrounding us are exquisite. It’s very fancy for a rehearsal though. No one here is relaxed. Or casual. The men are all wearing suits and almost every woman is in a dress. I’m rocking a black pantsuit that Clemmie looked at and said, “Really?” when I came down dressed to go. Griz didn’t think to pack more than one suit, so he’s been trying not to spill anything on the same shirt and pants that he’ll be wearing at the wedding tomorrow.

  “I don't know, I’m pretty happy about it. Now I can avoid all the conversations about how I’m not like my sister.” I roll my eyes at all the well-meaning but irritating questions. Clementine has always been a hard act to follow. Whenever they find out she’s a lawyer marrying a surgeon, they always seem so disappointed in the life choices I’m making. “This table has a lot fewer rules.” I smile at the blonde junior bridesmaids.

  The only rule that this table appears to have is that every girl must constantly inform us of their age. The twins, Madison and Morgan, have repeatedly mentioned how eleven they are.

  Chloe, the flower girl, lights up. “This table is a lot more funner.” She looks proud. She also announced her age earlier, informing us that she’s seven. She has a roundness to her cheeks that my mom used to call “baby fat” when I was her age.

  These kids will all be getting swept away once the booze starts flowing. Grandpa always said the trick to having a good wedding night where no one got too sloppy was to put on a crazy rehearsal dinner. Everyone gets drunk the first night, so they’re too hungover on the wedding day to make asses out of themselves.

  “There.” The sisters look at the braid in Griz’s beard with pride. “Doesn’t that look good?” the one who made it asks.

  “It is soooo good.” Chloe is quick with her praise. All night I’ve watched her try and fail to impress these girls. I feel like I’m watching my childhood being reenacted and it hurts my heart for this little seven-year-old, knowing how desperate she is for their acceptance.

  The flower girl sits up on her knees on the fancy seat and starts twisting up the other side of Griz’s beard without even asking. She just dives right in there, twirling two chunks of it around each other like a Twizzler. “There. I did a braid too, see?” She looks up at the sisters.

  “That’s not a braid.” One of them rolls her eyes.

  “You just scrunched the hair together. That’s not anything,” the other one agrees.

  “Yeah it is.” She pushes out her bottom lip. “I did it the same as you guys. We’re the same.” She urges them to believe her.

  “We don’t look the same to me.” Only one twin says it, but they both give her the same pointed look.

  Chloe stares down at the table, trying not to cry. The sisters go back to ignoring her.

  “Hey.” I lean toward her. “I don’t want to hurt their feelings,” – I nod toward the twins and keep my voice low – “but that braid you did...”

  Chloe looks up at me. “Yeah?”

  “That’s the fanciest braid I’ve ever seen.” I let her in on the big secret. “Really good for a nine-year-old. You should be proud of it.”

  “Nine? I’m only seven,” she says, excited.

  “No way!” I exaggerate my disbelief. “There’s no way you’re seven and braiding as good as a nine-year-old. That’s crazy.”

  “Are you sure it was that good?” She raises an eyebrow at me, and I almost burst out laughing.

  “I’m sure,” I answer.

  She looks over at Griz’s beard, evaluating both sides quietly. “Yeah.” A big smile spreads over her face. “My side is fancier.” She puffs up with pride.

  “You’ve got a natural talent.” I nod.

  “Thanks, Hattie.” She grins. “Oh, and don’t worry…” Her face goes suddenly serious, and she looks me right in the eyes. “I’ll teach you how to make a braid, if you’re worried you can’t make them as fancy as me.”

  “That’s a nice offer. Thanks, Chloe.”

  “No problem.” She shrugs, and I have to hold back my laughter again.

  Parenthood is one of those far-on-the-horizon goals. Kids like Chloe make it seem less intimidating. And guys like Griz give me hope for the next generation of dads out there. My father was way too serious for something like beard braids. Griz looks like he’s enjoying them.

  The meals are being cleared from the tables by staff. I am counting down how much longer I have to be a part of this over-the-top, look-how-much-money-this-wedding-cost rehearsal dinner. I’m ready to take off this dress and, more importantly, this bra. I just want to be in my room, in my pajamas, watching DIY home renovation shows on the hotel television. That’s my idea of casual and relaxing, and I am so ready to live that dream.

  Griz leans across the table. “Did you want to get a drink?” Julian and my father are into the gin and tonics. My sister and mother have matching scowls of irritation on their faces. This seems like the perfect time to get out of here.

  “I was thinking of going to the room. Wanna sneak out with me?”

  “Let’s do this.” He stands up.

  “Is it your bedtime?” Chloe watches me gather my purse.

  “It is, so I’m gonna say goodnight to all of you girls.” I say it to the twins too, but they don’t really care. “I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”

  “Hattie.” Chloe’s eyes grow wider with worry. “What if I mess it up? What if I trip in front of everyone? What if I throw the flower petals wrong?” She looks at the junior bridesmaids mournfully. “What if I can’t do it as good as them?”

  “Just a second.” I tug Griz’s sleeve, and he sits back down at the table.

  I’m sucked in by Chloe’s big eyes. I know what it’s like to live in someone else’s shadow. More like their solar eclipse. Across the room, my sister soaks in all the attention she can get, like a big, platinum-blonde sponge.

  What if someone could’ve helped me when I was Chloe’s age? What if I got to skip feeling insecure, like I’d never measure up to Clemmie’s yellow hair and ideal BMI? I can’t go back in time and take back the years I wasted in self-loathing, but maybe I c
an help this little flower girl now. I rummage through my purse…is it still in there? Yes, my fingertips curl around a hair clip, and I pull it out. It’s silver with little metal flowers whimsically placed at one end.

  “What’s that? It’s beautiful.” She admires it closely.

  “This? Just between you and me, this is my Grandma’s mysterious hair pin. She gave it to me when I was around your age.” I hold the hair clip in the palm of my hand and let the light glint off it.

  “Why is it mysterious?” She doesn’t take her eyes off it when she talks.

  “Only because it has a secret power.” I keep my voice hushed. “Before I wore my Grandma’s mysterious hair pin, I didn’t feel very confident, but mysterious things like this have strong powers.” I tilt it in my hand.

  “Did it make you feel better?” She looks at the clip like it’s hope itself I’m holding in my hand.

  “Uh huh,” I answer. “Whenever I wore it, I felt beautiful and strong. All my worries just faded away. My grandma told me it makes whoever wears it as beautiful on the outside as they are inside.”

  Chloe doesn’t look totally sold. Her eyes dart over to the blonde twins. “Oh yeah? What if you’re ugly on the inside?” She says it like she got me. Like there’s no coming back from this.

  “Then you see it on the outside.” I shrug.

  “Really?” Her eyes grow with wonder. “And if you’re beautiful on the inside?” Her voice is hushed.

  “Then it’s the same on the outside,” I answer simply.

  “That must be why you’re so pretty.” Her voice is full of awe, and she gently touches the pin with the tip of her finger.

  “Thank you. You know what, Chloe? I feel pretty confident now. So, I’ve been looking for a girl who might need this more than I do. Do you think you can help me?”