by Daphne Slade
“That’s one way to start senior year with a bang,” I mutter to myself.
It’s going to take a lot of cold showers to dissolve some of the mental images that are firmly etched on my brain after that little detour. Grace’s breasts, a perfect handful, only now with a hint of nipple exposed through that pink lace. Those long, curvaceous legs flailing against the bed in anger. And the worst, what lay just beneath that lacy, semi-transparent triangle between her legs, so symbolically framed by tiny satin flowers.
“Sweet sin-cleansing Jesus,” I say through a long slow exhale of breath.
The only thing that kept me from sporting a hard-on the size of New York was forcing myself to mentally replay the drills coach had us run through after our abysmal practice today. The summer certainly took its toll on some of my teammates.
Devington is a Division-I school for hockey, which is the sport it’s most known for. As such, Coach Egler expects the best from us.
For me, hockey has and always will be life; that and my family. From the age of four, Dad had me on the ice with a stick. I’m the only boy out of three older sisters and he relished the idea of having a son to pass his hobby onto. It ended up sticking, both of us eventually realizing I could someday go pro.
My mother was the one to insist on my finishing college instead of opting to get drafted. Once upon a time that would have made going pro highly unlikely. The NHL draft is limited to players eighteen to twenty years old, at least for Americans. This means I’ll have to graduate as a free agent and take my chances in a more competitive market, including plenty of stellar players from other countries.
Thus, I don’t take breaks from honing my skill as a center, no matter what time of year.
As the unofficial slogan for our school goes, ‘no rest for the wicked.’
But it certainly has its unexpected rewards.
Staying late to get a bit more practice in as usual is the only reason I showed up to the bar when everyone else was at least a few beers in. Being team captain means being responsible, so naturally, I offered to pick up the wallet Matt left at his apartment.
Who says no good deed goes unpunished?
I grin as I rewind the last twenty minutes. I would never have expected to find Grace Arlington like that, for a number of reasons.
First of all, she never struck me as the type. Even the bikinis she wore during those long weekends at Evan’s lake house were oddly conservative.
Second, I’m pretty sure I’m the last man on earth she’d ever allow to see her that way. I know she’s not my biggest fan, though I never understood why. That thought erases the smile from my face.
I wasn’t lying to Grace about Matt being too drunk to drive and get his wallet. I did, however, do her the favor of leaving out the other reason why.
When I walk back into the Den of Iniquity bar, that reason why still has her arms draped around his neck in the corner table where they’ve separated themselves from the rest of the team.
“Your wallet,” I say, slapping it against Matt’s shoulder.
He turns to look up at me with a lazy fuck-me smile that probably first caught the attention of the girl on his lap.
Heaven knows it’s probably worked at least once before. I was there the day he first met Grace freshman year.
“Thanks, man,” he says, just barely catching it as I flip it in the air toward him.
“Um, I’m just going to go freshen up.” The girl slides off his lap, bringing her skirt down to a respectable length of one inch below her panty line. She fluffs those blonde ringlets, then taps Matt on the nose. “But I’ll be right back.”
She makes sure to give me a good hazel-hued eye-fucking, licking her lips for good measure before spinning around and skipping off to the restroom.
“Just in time for you to pay for drinks,” I say, watching her go. “I should warn you, it looks like she might be into the devil’s triangle.” That term has been a constant at Devington U long before it made an appearance at a particular congressional hearing, and yes, it means exactly what everyone thinks it means.
“You into that?” Matt asks, wrinkling his brow.
“Don’t worry, I don’t like to share.” I fall into the chair opposite him and give him a considering look. “I guess this whole break with Grace is still on?”
“It’s still officially summer,” he says with a shit-eating grin and a shrug.
“So, one last fling before you get back together then?” I ask, darting my eyes toward the restroom.
I think back to that light pink bra and panties, more notably, the woman they barely covered. I compare her to the one who just skipped off to the ladies' room. Frankly, if I were him, I would have used a free pass from Grace on something a little more challenging than a lime green thong (ask me how I know the color).
Matt’s sigh brings my attention back around to him. The way his hand is buried in his hair as he blows through his mouth tells me all I need to know.
“You aren’t getting back together with Grace.” It’s not a question since the guilty look on his face already gives me the answer.
“I just got to thinking about these past three years and how I’ve only spent them with her. I mean, you were there that first day in—hell, I don’t even know what the class was.”
“Politics and Social Life in Ancient Rome.”
“You remember that?”
I shrug nonchalantly.
Inside, my head is raging. Do I remember that? Of course I fucking do. I remember every detail of that day. I remember being the one to nudge Matt when Grace first caught my eye. I remember the way her head was bent over the syllabus as she sat in the front row of that class, having arrived earlier than everyone—because of course she would. I remember the way she swept her dark brown hair to the side, revealing how long and perfect her neck was. I remember the way those graceful fingers typed away at her laptop or twirled a pen. I remember the way she turned around to see who had just made a smart-assed comment in class; the way those large brown eyes met mine and held them; the way her mouth spread into a larger-than-life smile, teeth showing, before she quickly tried to hide it.
Mostly, I remember the way it all went to hell shortly after that.
Matt of all people should know better than to ask if I remember, though he’s probably long since forgotten the details.
Still, Grace chose him, fair and square, so I had no choice but to take a step back.
“Anyway, I just couldn’t stop thinking about all I’ve missed out on. I mean, look at you. Is there a girl on this campus you haven’t slept with?”
“You make me sound like the campus manwhore. I’m not that bad.” Honestly, between school and hockey, I wouldn’t have had the time to screw around that much. Just because I attract the attention of a lot of girls at Devington doesn’t mean I sleep with them all.
“Yeah but…think of all the freedom you have. Tonight you could hook up with someone like her.” He nods in the direction the girl escaped to. “And tomorrow you could be off with some redhead, or a pair of twins, or—”
A certain brunette with an amazing smile and large doe eyes.
“—hell, the whole cheerleading team!”
“Well, when you put it that way…” I say, tilting my head to cede the point, though even I have yet to manage such a feat.
“College is when you’re supposed to experience that kind of thing, sow your wild oats. I was already living like part of an old married couple. If I don’t break it off now, she’ll start talking engagement rings and weddings, and twenty years from now I’ll be…” He shakes his head and takes a long swig from his bottle of beer.
“Buying Rogaine, Viagra, and hitting up the latest dating app to perv over nineteen-year-olds?”
His brow furrows with distaste, then smoothes out once he realizes how likely that scenario could be.
“Honestly, if you already feel this way, ten years would have been a far more likely timeline.”
“See, you get it.
” He lifts his bottle in salute.
Fortunately, I have no drink handy to match it.
What a waste.
“You never know, this summer might have changed her. She could be blindfolded and handcuffed to your bed in nothing but lingerie right this very moment,” I suggest.
Matt laughs and takes another swallow of beer. “As far as I know, pigs have yet to start flying, so there goes that theory. Besides, even if she showed up on my doorstep looking like a porn star, I’d still know it was her and it would ruin the fantasy.”
My mind once again wanders back to Grace cuffed to that bed. He has no fucking clue. And I’m certainly not going to be the one to avail him of his preconceptions.
Tit for tat.
I was mostly joking when I dropped that bomb on Grace, just to rile her up. She’s so damn gorgeous when she’s indignant or angry, which are two of her default settings when it comes to yours truly. Now, I’m thinking there might be something to my parting barb.
“Are you sure you’ll feel the same way when she starts dating other guys?”
Matt pauses in the middle of the sip he’s just taken. He pulls the bottle away and stares at the wall ahead as though that thought hadn’t even occurred to him.
“I mean…I expect a rebound of course. She’s entitled. But she’s not the type to sleep around. She’ll probably just try looking for the next Mr. Right or something. I can handle that.”
“That’s generous of you.” I don’t mean for it to come out as sarcastic as it sounds.
Matt gives me a skeptical look. “Wait, you aren’t seriously considering going for her yourself are you? No offense but, I’m pretty sure you’d be the last man on earth she’d get with.” He laughs and takes another sip of beer.
“That sounds like a challenge,” I say in a taunting voice, but I scrutinize him closely.
He coughs as he tries to swallow and laugh at the same time. “You know what? If only to watch you for once, crash and burn with someone of the opposite sex, have at it. She’s all yours if you can manage it. It’s about time the world was fair.”
I don’t say anything in response to that, mostly due to shock. Matt really is letting Grace go. The idiot doesn’t even realize what he’s giving up.
As if to stress the point, the girl comes waltzing back looking for all the world like a lioness ready to feast. Her eyes fall on me and I can easily read the suggestion there. “So, are we turning this into a bona fide party or what?”
Matt’s mouth turns sour as he regards me. “My point exactly.”
“Not to worry,” I say with a grin on my face. “As I said, I don’t like to share.”
Chapter Three
Grace
Matt: We should meet. Sin Bin at 2?
I read the text from Matt with a mixture of relief and trepidation. I texted him only once to let him know I’d returned to campus, not wanting to seem desperate, needy, or pushy.
That was of course before I had the brilliant idea of my more creative welcome back.
Surely, this summer has helped him realize that we should be together? Maybe enough to convince him I’m the one. I won’t think about what he’s gotten out of his system to arrive at that decision, so long as he got there. I certainly didn’t start playing the field during our break.
I wasn’t a virgin when Matt and I met, though the awkward deflowering at the hands of Kenny Preston senior year of high school should hardly count.
Still, even after Kenny, the thought of jumping from bed to bed seemed tedious. More power to girls who can manage it, I’m certainly not judging. However, all that emotional entangling and disentangling and awkwardly getting to know one another’s bodies, likes, turn-ons, etc., it seems like an X-rated version of Groundhog Day.
My mind naturally races to the unfortunate incident with Noah a few nights ago. Before he arrived to ruin it, I was actually getting into what I was doing. It was fun and thrilling in a naughty sort of way. At least until the wrong man showed up. That took it from risqué to downright inappropriate.
So, why can’t I put it firmly out of my mind? I feel my face get warm as the mortification sets in yet again. It’s just that Noah saw so, so much of me. I can only imagine what he’s done with that mental image so far. That thought has my entire body heating up with embarrassment and, well, something I’d rather not dwell upon.
“For heaven’s sake, Grace, get it together,” I hiss to myself.
By the time I make it to The Sin Bin, all thoughts of Noah and “the incident” have vanished in the glow of finally seeing Matt again.
The off-campus coffee shop is run by an alum of the university, a former Devils hockey player himself, hence the name of the place.
Since I’m early I go ahead and order a small latte for myself while I wait. I don’t think I can sit here idle while my thoughts run wild.
I’ve worn the little black dress Matt likes me to wear when I go to parties with him, even though it’s usually a bit too dressy, including for this location. The occasion, however, demands that I pull out all the stops. This meant wearing my long, dark hair up to show off my neck, which I’ve always considered rather elegant. I’ve also added more mascara than usual to highlight my large eyes, which hopefully draws attention away from my mouth.
My gaze remains firmly on the front entrance and when he finally makes an appearance, I feel my breath catch. Those sedate blue eyes always get to me. They aren’t as vibrant and mesmerizing as Noah’s, which is fine. They make Matt look like some deep, philosophical thinker.
That smile, which I thought was a bit cocky at first, now makes my heart flutter. It’s been too long since those lips have been against mine. I never noticed how much I miss the simple human contact of him. Even now, my fingers itch to reach out and brush his dark blond hair back from his forehead or stroke his arm.
He’s perfect.
I think back to the day we met. It was just like a meet-cute from all the romance novels I read. He was rushing for the elevator after our class and I reached out to hold the doors for him.
“Now, I have no choice but to pay you back. How about a date?”
I demurred. Mostly, because, at the time, I had my eye on the boy with the vibrant and mesmerizing blue eyes sitting next to him in class.
Matt insisted, using enough ammunition to finally wear me down.
By the time we made it to our floor, two things had happened. One, I was definitely no longer interested in the boy sitting next to him in class, and two, I had agreed to go out with him.
The rest is history.
The best thing about Matt is that my parents like him. Of course, they weren’t thrilled to find out that he was a hockey player but quickly changed their tune once they learned he was heading off to medical school, just as I am. That cemented their stamp of approval. Not an easy feat, especially among the Arlingtons of Boston, Massachusetts. Even I barely measure up to those standards.
So I have to make this work.
I’m pleased to see him head my way instead of stopping to get coffee first. Obviously, he’s just as eager to resume where we left off as I am.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you came early,” he says with a smile.
“You know me too well,” I say with a small, nervous laugh as I gesture to the seat across from me.
He looks at it and hesitates, then sits down.
“Did you want to get coffee first?” I offer.
“No, no, I’m good.”
I nod and sit up a bit straighter so we can finally get to what we both came here for. I missed him these past three months. Hopefully, he feels the same.
“So, how was your summer?” he asks hesitantly, giving me a scrutinizing look.
“I spent most of it at Mom’s hospital, doing my internship. It was crazy busy—too busy for anything else.” I give him a meaningful look and feel encouraged when I see his body relax with satisfaction. “And you?”
His brow rises as though surprised by the question.
“Me? I, um…my summer was great. I mean it was okay, not great,” he quickly corrects.
I smile encouragingly. “That’s good to hear.”
There’s an extended silence during which I watch him grow more and more uncomfortable. Why doesn’t he just come out and discuss the elephant in the room already?
It takes a long time—too long—for it to finally dawn on me.
“Oh my god, you don’t want to get back together!” I gasp it aloud, and my hand flies up to my mouth as I look around in horror, wondering who heard that.
“No! I mean, it—it’s not that, Grace,” Matt sputters, also looking around with embarrassment.
“Well, what is it then?” I ask, hating the pleading tone in my voice.
“It’s…” he heaves a resigned sigh. His voice is an urgent whisper as he leans in and continues. “Okay, yes—I mean no, I don’t want to get back together.”
I gurgle something that sounds like a duck being strangled, but by now I’m done caring what people around us think.
“Yet!” he quickly adds. “Yet, Grace. I just…I need a little more time—time to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?” God, do I really sound this pathetic?
“Sure of…I don’t even know what.” He shrugs and falls back in his chair, his hand grabbing at his hair. “Sure that we aren’t just settling for something that’s familiar and comfortable.”
“Settling?” Now, I hear the edge in my voice.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What way did you mean it?”
“Come on, Grace, even you had to be getting bored with where we were headed. We were more like friends than lovers.”
“Bored?” He certainly didn’t sound bored when I was giving him all those blow jobs. Speaking of which, at least “friends” would know the meaning of reciprocation.