Off Sides

by Sawyer Bennett

  I so don't want to like him but I do. And now I don't know what to do with it.

  Ryan pulls over and parks on the street outside of my building. I start to open the door but he lays his hand on my arm, stopping me. I turn to look at him and I've immediately lost the war that was brewing in my head mere seconds ago. He lifts a hand up and smooths it over and past the hair at my temple until he is cupping the back of my head. He doesn't make a move but just holds me by the head, looking at me. I nervously wet my lips which immediately draws his attention there. He brings his other hand up and gently traces my bottom lip with his thumb.

  "Do you think this is a good idea?" I whisper. I want him to say yes. I want him to say no.

  Ryan drags his gaze up from my lips and looks at me. "I don't know. I can be all kinds of fucked in the head sometimes."

  Is he warning me off? Should I listen?

  "Who isn't fucked in the head these days?" I ask.

  "Indeed," he murmurs as he bends his head toward mine.

  Our lips meet softly...nothing more than a whisper against each other. Moving to my cheek with his other hand, Ryan holds both sides of my head and presses into me. His tongue slides gently into my mouth and at the first contact, a groan bubbles up from my chest. My hands involuntarily fist in his shirt and I attempt to get even closer to him. I am being swallowed by his kiss and it's all I can do to hang on.

  Ryan pulls slightly away and I make a whimper of dismay. But he only moves his mouth to the corner of mine, placing soft kisses from there along my jaw. With a slight tug of his hand on my ponytail, my head tilts to the side and he blazes a path down my throat. His lips are soft and warm and when he hits my collarbone, I'm completely enslaved. If he told me to take off all my clothes right there, I probably would have. Instead, he pulls away from me and lays his forehead against mine. His breathing is as heavy as mine and I now understand how car windows become fogged.

  "Come on. Let me walk you to your door."

  Ryan opens my car door for me and takes my hand. We walk together to my apartment door and I'm looking for my keys in my purse, all of a sudden nervous. A minute ago I was ready to jump in bed with Ryan, but now, in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway outside of my apartment, I'm faced with the uncertainty of a relationship with a man who is so different than me.

  Putting his finger under my chin, Ryan tilts my head up to his and says, "Don't."

  He knows I'm doubting this and that tells me a lot about how perceptive he is. Before I can respond he pulls me to him and kisses me...hard. And every thought flies out of my head.

  My hands snake up his chest and wrap around his neck before slipping into his hair. It's as soft and silky as I had been trying hard not imagine. Our tongues are swirling...stabbing...and then my teeth grab his bottom lip and bite. He answers me with a guttural sound that vibrates from his mouth into mine.

  Without breaking our hold on each other, Ryan pushes me one step backward until my back is pressed into my door. His hands graze down my sides until they reach my hips. His fingers dig in, pulling me tight against him and I can feel his hardness. I am drowning in Ryan, or maybe he's downing in me by the sounds of his ragged breathing, I do not know. I just know I have never been kissed like this before and something warm is unfurling in my chest in response to this passion.

  Ryan finally pulls away slightly, breathing hard against my mouth. "Jesus, Danny."

  I don't think Jesus has anything to do with the explosion that just happened between us but if He did, I'm heading to church this weekend to thank Him.

  "I better go," Ryan says against my mouth, his lips still pressed lightly to mine.

  I nod my head shakily and can't even form a word. I think he blew a gasket in me or something.

  Pulling back, Ryan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "What's your number?"

  I give it to him and he types it into his phone. My phone immediately starts ringing and I look down. He's called me and I grin.

  "So, now you have my number too," he says.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ryan

  The alarm blares at 6:30 a.m. and I slap it off. I wake up with a smile on my face as I had an amazing dream about Danny, the dirty details I will not disclose.

  I think back to our kiss last night. Never before had a kiss turned me on like that. I was close to begging Danny to let me bury myself in her. But at the same time, I didn't want to go further. I wanted to savor it all. And this morning...I realize I want to drag it out. The way she stroked my hand last night, in comfort of me, after all she has been through...words can't describe. I want to take my time with this girl because she is so different than anyone I have ever been around.

  Rolling out of bed, I see Mike is still asleep. I pick up a pillow and throw it at him.

  "Get up, Petunia. We have to be at practice in half an hour."

  Mike groans and slowly sits up. His blond hair is sticking up all over the place. "How can you be so chipper this early in the morning?"

  "Just excited to get on the ice."

  "Why do you have a dopey grin on your face?"

  He's trying to get a rise out of me but I don't respond. "I'll see you there. I'm going to grab something to eat first."

  "Hold up, man."

  I pause and look at him.

  "So, how was your date last night?"

  "It was fine...nice. Do you want me to wait for you?"

  "Yeah, I'm getting up." Mike swings his long legs out of bed, stands and stretches. I pull out my iPhone while Mike gets dressed and think about sending Danny a text. Should I make it short and flirty? Or should I send a more romantic text. Oh my God...I'm turning into a putz, but then I smile and roll with it. Just as I'm ready to type, Mike gives me a punch in the shoulder.

  "I'm ready."

  I put the phone in my pocket and pick up my gear bag. I'll text her after practice.

  ***

  I'm sitting in the locker room, getting ready for practice. I've got my Under Armour, jock shorts and shin pads on. As I'm pulling on my hockey socks and securing them to the Velcro tabs on my shorts, Mike walks over and sits down on the bench beside me.

  "Alright...I can't stand it. Spill."

  I don't look at him. "Spill what?"

  "Don't be an ass. Just tell me how the date went. Usually you're willing to tell me everything but you are keeping this one close to the vest. I figure that means it went really, really well or really, really bad." He stands up and moves in front of me. He pounds his fist into his chest. "I'm here for ya, man. Whichever way it went."

  I chuckle at him. "Okay...fine. If you must know, it went really, really well."

  Mike sits down again, crossing one leg over the other in feminine fashion. He puts his hands on his knees, gazing intently at me. "Do tell."

  I snicker and throw a roll of tape at him. I stand up and pull my pants on. "I don't really know what to say. She's amazing."

  "Whose amazing?" This from Carter who walks up behind me.

  "No one," I say at the same time Mike says, "His date from last night."

  I groan. I so don't need Carter in on this conversation. I love the guy but he has a big mouth.

  "What date? Where have I been?"

  Mike pipes up. "He went out with that smokin' hot waitress from Sally's."

  I sit down to put my skates on, pulling the laces tight.

  "Dude," Carter says. "You said you didn't want to hit that." His voice sounds accusatory and I remember back to that night. Carter acted like he might try to ask her out.

  "I'm not 'hitting that', Carter. We went out on a date."

  "But you said she was amazing. If you didn't bang her, what was so amazing?"

  I grab the tape off the floor and start wrapping my shin pads. "Carter, you are such a Neanderthal. Not everything is about screwing."

  "Yes, it is," Carter replies matter-of-factly. "I mean, what could have been more amazing last night than screwing?"

  Carter is genuinely curious I can
tell and it's sort of endearing. He may be a player right now but I bet one day, Carter is going to fall hard.

  "You guys are like pit bulls. If you must know, I went with her to a homeless shelter and we did some volunteer work in the kitchen. Then we went and grabbed a couple of beers."

  Carter is looking at me as if I just sprouted antlers out of my head. "No, seriously...what did you really do?"

  I just shook my head and picked up my shoulder pads, strapping them into place. "Forget it, Carter. I just don't think you'd understand."

  He is literally scratching his head in consternation as he walks away. I turn to look at Mike. "Was my date last night really that weird?"

  Mike stands up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Yup. It was weird. But it was also amazing, and that's all that matters. I'm happy for you, man."

  I punch him lightly in the chest. "Thanks, bro."

  ***

  Practice is almost over and we are doing a light scrimmage right now. I'm the center on the first line and I've been playing fucking fantastic today. I'm on a breakaway right now, having just received the puck from a brilliant pass by Mike. I'm streaking down the right side, and Mike is mirroring me on the left. There's only one defenseman between us and the goalie. I make a quick pass over to Mike. Just as the defensemen commits to Mike, he flips the puck back to me and I wind up for a slap shot, aiming for the five-hole. Just as I'm bringing my stick down toward the ice, I see the blade of another stick poke between my legs and hook over the front of my left skate. It's jerked backward, along with my foot and I go crashing face first into the ice. I'm moving so fast the momentum slides me head first into the boards. Thankfully, I'm able to tuck my head and catch the boards with my shoulder instead.

  The coach blows the whistle and I hear Mike bellow, "What the fuck, Malone?"

  I didn't need to hear Mike yell that to know it was Reece Malone who had pulled me down. He is a loser and I don't understand why Coach keeps him on the team. He's bitter that his talent will never get him higher than our fourth line and he begrudges success to anyone else. Even if that means our team takes a loss. He is poison to our morale.

  I jump up from the ice and take off toward Malone. I'm going to kick his ass. I hear the coach frantically blowing the whistle and my teammates rush in to separate us before we can even connect.

  "You try that shit again, Reece and I will tear your fucking head off, you hear me?"

  I am pissed and if I didn't have three of my teammates holding me back, I probably would have killed him. Reece just smirks at me. He shakes off the hands holding him and skates off the ice.

  Coach wisely calls an end to practice and we all head to the locker room. As I walk in, I move past Malone who is standing in front of his locker and try to ignore him.

  "Hey, Burnham. I heard you went slumming last night and banged some grease whore from Sally's."

  I vaguely hear Mike say, "Oh fuck" but then all I hear after is the sound of my fist hitting Malone's face. I get in at least four good hits, all to the left side of his temple and jaw, before Carter and Mike are pulling me off. No one needed to hold Malone back because my hits were vicious and fueled by an inferno of rage. He is on the floor, blood running down his face from an open cut, and he won't be getting up anytime soon.

  Mike is pulling me backward and tells me to calm down. I shake him off of me viciously. "Get the fuck off me, Mike. I'm fine."

  He pulls his arms back and holds them up in surrender. He looks at me apprehensively.

  I turn my back on him and stalk over to my locker. Coach comes up to me and gives me a dressing down. He tells me to get my ass in gear or else I can kiss my Captaincy goodbye. My only consolation is that Malone needs five stitches in his head.

  ***

  By the time Mike and I make it to the dining hall, I've calmed somewhat but my stomach is in knots. I was beyond furious when Malone called Danny a whore. I try to imagine what she would have felt like if she had heard that. And now I'm afraid that Danny will be facing an endless stream of spitefulness from my crowd just because of her lot in life.

  I grab a tray of food, not really paying attention to what I'm choosing. Mike and I find an empty table and sit down.

  "You okay, man?" Mike's eyes are filled with concern.

  "Sure."

  "What's up with Malone? It's like his attitude is getting worse. I don't understand why Coach doesn't kick him off the team."

  I shake my head. I don't get it either. But if Malone is going to tear our team apart, we can kiss any chance of a winning season goodbye. I eat in silence, mulling everything over.

  "Hey, Ryan. You know what Malone said about Danny is just words, right? They shouldn't mean anything to you."

  He's trying to comfort and reassure me, and I get that. But a dark feeling is taking root in my mind. I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I don't know if I can handle the inevitable fallout that is going to come by forging a relationship with Danny.

  "This is a bad idea...to get involved with her, isn't it?"

  Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe not."

  "You said it yourself. My parents will never accept her because she looks different and isn't in our social haven. Our crowd has their heads so far up their asses, they believe because she works in a diner that she's a whore. Tell me how this can work?"

  I feel like I'm almost pleading with him to give me the right answer.

  Mike puts down his sandwich and leans forward. "Tell me, Ryan...do you care what she looks like?"

  "No, although I think she's freakin' gorgeous."

  "So, her purple hair and nose ring and...whatever that is in her eyebrow...that doesn't bother you?"

  "Not at all."

  "And the fact she works in a diner? Does that change how you feel?"

  "No! I admire the fact she's working...two jobs...going to school and doing volunteer work. She's amazing."

  "Then I don't see what the problem is, dude. All that matters is what you think."

  I sigh. I know that. And I don't care what anyone else thinks about me for being with Danny. But I do care if Danny gets hurt because of the nastiness I'm surrounded by.

  Danny and I have been out one time. We've spent less than three hours together, and yet I find myself wanting to protect her more than any other person I've ever known. The strength of these feelings scares the shit out of me. I just don't know what to do.

  CHAPTER 6

  Danny

  It's 6:00 a.m. and my alarm is shrieking from across the room. I put it over there so I have to get up and get out of bed to turn it off. Otherwise, I'm always in danger of just falling back asleep. I put my pillow over my head and try to ignore it. When that doesn't work, I throw my pillow at it and it makes a direct hit, knocking the clock to the floor. Except, it's still shrieking at me. I simply take my other pillow and cover my head with it.

  It's been five days since my date with Ryan and he hasn't called me. I'm depressed and I know it, and I hate myself that I feel this way. I should have more fortitude than I'm showing right now.

  I spent the day after our date replaying everything over in my mind. I spent a lot of time thinking of our last kiss. I couldn't help but imagine what comes after a kiss like that. In theory, I know what happens after a kiss like that. In reality, well...let's just say I have to rely on my imagination.

  When I had not heard from Ryan the day after our date, I was a little worried and slightly annoyed. I sent him a quick text the following morning:

  Hi. R U ok?

  He texted back fairly quickly.

  Yup. Something came up. Call u later.

  I immediately felt better after getting his text and went about spending another day waiting for him to call. Except, rather than walking on clouds and day-dreaming about our phenomenal kiss, I obsessed about why he had not called. I had a nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. Thinking of every possible reason why he wouldn't call, I was convinced by the end of that second day I would not hear from him.

>   And I didn't.

  No calls, no texts. Nothing.

  I didn't bother to text him again. A stalker I was not.

  By the end of the third day with no word from him, I deleted his contact information from my phone.

  The alarm is still shrieking and Paula's bedroom door opens. "What the fu-u--udge, Danny? Turn that damn thing off."

  I ignore her and the alarm. Lying here in bed and ignoring everything is what's on the agenda today. I have a blessedly rare day to myself with no work obligations, no school and I plan on having a date with my pillow.

  My door opens and footsteps pad across the floor. The alarm turns off and there is now oppressive silence. My mattress dips down and I know Paula is lying in my bed beside me. I don't move.

  "Are you just going to lay here?"

  "Yes," I mumble. "And I'd appreciate it if you leave me alone."

  Paula is silent for several seconds and then the pillow is ripped off my head and the covers are pulled back.

  "Alright. I've had it with you. You are no longer allowed to sulk, pine, mope, pout or glower. You're going to get your ass up and get back on with your life."

  I roll over and look at Paula. She is grinning at me, completely unapologetic for her vigorous tactics to get me out of bed. I couldn't help but to smile back at her.

  "So how are you feeling, kiddo?"

  Flipping in the opposite direction, I roll completely off the bed and stand up. Stretching my arms upward, I give a huge yawn. "I'm fine. Besides, you know I'm really not one to lie around and bemoan anything. It is indeed time for me to move on."

  "True dat. I've never met anyone that tries as hard as you do to get past something hurtful."

  I grimace at her words. They are true but they make me sound callous. Whenever anything bad has happened to me, I tend to grieve pretty hard but then I tuck it away and try not to look back. That has worked well so far dealing with both of my parents' deaths. Not so well with the loss of my music. And the jury is still out how I am going to let Ryan's brush-off affect me.

  Gosh, I so want to just kick my ass right now for falling so easily for that man. I knew better! I have a very specific agenda to complete certain things in my life, and I have no business getting sidetracked. That includes going gooey over a hot hockey player who kisses like Armageddon is just on the other side of the horizon.