Delayed Offsides Page 6

  I smiled and circled around him once more. “They’ll be waitin’ a long time. Maybe you can save me a seat though, since you’ll be there before me.”

  “Fuck you!” On any given day, I think I hear the phrase “Fuck You” at least twenty times.

  Walker shoved at me but didn’t make contact. He was expecting me to hit him. And when I did nothing but smile, it threw him, made his brow scrunch in confusion.

  “I didn’t even flinch.” I was trying to provoke him now. If he threw down his gloves it was on. I’d fight this guy in a heartbeat. “You oughta be embarrassed.”

  “Alright,” The linesman barked at us. “That’s enough.”

  Remy held his stick across his thighs watching the Senators center, hunched forward and ready for the drop. Mase, Drew and Travis doing the same. My eyes swept to the linesman and his knuckles. When the white faded, I slapped at the puck and I got the angle on it and shook away the pressure on the left side. There were five minutes to go in the first period. We held on but play was sloppy and they were getting in our heads. I knew one thing, Walker and I were moments away from dropping gloves. We were two angry centers who’d had enough for one night. I’d be happy if I never played him again.

  Just when I was shooting up the ice, chasing the puck, it hit the boards and then I did with a check by Walker. Only this wasn’t an ordinary check. Motherfucker nailed me so hard I saw stars. Play was stopped when they knew I was down and holding my mouth.

  Then I heard the hit against Walker before I peeled myself from the ice. When I did get up, he was being pounded by Mase. You don’t level a center and not expect to get your ass handed to you by a defenseman.

  Smiling, I skated over to the bench with a towel the linesman handed to me pressed to my mouth. I’d taken a good chunk out of my lip.

  All the guys patted my back, O’Brien raised an eyebrow, his way of checking on me. He wasn’t the type of coach to hover over his players. Instead you got nods and raised eyebrows.

  I waved him off and watched as Mase skated toward the locker room as there was only one minute left to play in the period.

  The Senators got to chirping at me on the bench which wasn’t a surprise.

  “Keep your head up.” I grinned and then spit the blood pooling in my mouth looking over at the three Senators talking shit. “You’re fuckin’ next, boys.”

  From then on, I kept my focus on the jumbotron and the blood pooling in my mouth. If I looked at Callie, I’d probably fuckin’ lose it.

  When we came back out for the second period, Remy looked over at me when play stopped at the crease. “Who’s that with Callie?” I stared emotionless at the ice not wanting anyone, especially Remy, to see my annoyance.

  Why he was asking this during the game wasn’t anything new. I am utterly surprised Remy was as good as he is on the ice because it seemed his mind was never fully on the ice. It was on who would be on his dick later or whatever was going on around him.

  I gave Remy a nudge ignoring his question. “Ready for my trick play?”

  “Which one? The one where you fall on your face again and your girl goes home with the fucker next to her?”

  “No. The one where I shove this puck up your ass.”

  Remy laughed. He knew I would if he kept that shit up.

  We won that game three to two over the Senators and headed to Fifty/50 directly after the game.

  Exactly what I needed.

  Ordinarily I wouldn’t have thought anything about Callie coming to the bar and hanging on another guy. Didn’t mean shit to me. Ordinarily.

  But she brought this one with her.

  Fuckin’ brought him here.

  I looked at the bartender. “Buddy, where’s that drink, eh?”

  Watching the bar, I couldn’t even look at Callie, or that guy. Drew and Mase came over to me. “Hey man,” Drew pointed to the end of the bar near the door. “That chick wants to meet ya.”

  I snuck a look at Callie first, nothing, she was staring at her hands. My eyes drifted to the end of the bar. The girl offered me a warm smile as Drew and Evan went back to the table where Ami was sitting.

  “Why not?” I muttered reaching for that beer and heading to the end of the bar where the girl was waiting. “What’s your name, honey?” There was an edge to my voice, annoyance maybe, but I softened it because this girl didn’t deserve that.

  She smiled holding out a perfectly manicured hand. “Lexi.”

  I checked her out, tight black dress clinging to curves and fake tits. “Mmmm.” I winked at her, girls loved that shit. “Mind if I sit?”

  “No.” She giggled. “What happened to your lip?”

  I’d almost forgotten about it, until now. “Face full of boards tonight.”

  “So you’re really Leo Orting, the hockey player?”

  “Last time I checked I was.” That was exactly what she wanted to hear from me. I’m the guy she’s hoping will make her every fantasy come true if just for one night.

  We sat there talking but I couldn’t keep my mind on what this girl was saying to me. Instead I kept glancing over at Callie to see what she was doing. She was sitting at the table with Ami and Mase, alongside that motherfucker she thought to bring in here. In our bar. The one we always went to after home games.

  God, it pissed me off. Here she wanted to be better and then she fuckin’ shows up with him. Fuck that. See if she likes this shit. I’ve got the eyes of a jealous man and Callie knew it, she could feel it and by the way she wouldn’t catch my stare, she was feeling me.

  “You ready to get out of here?” I asked in Lexi’s ear, leaning in so she felt my breath on her ear.

  When I pulled back to gauge her reaction, her smile brightened as if she’d been waiting on those words all night. “Yes!”

  I downed my beer before placing the glass on the bar. “Well then, let’s go.” I returned the smile and reached for her hand. Her eyes brightened at the thought, a thrill moving over her as she reached for her jacket with shaking hands and pink cheeks.

  “Where do you live?” Her eyes met mine, briefly, then shied away to the pavement covered in a layer of snow.

  I smiled at a pair of brown eyes I’ve never seen before. “I have a roommate.” I nodded up the street to a cab waiting. “How about your place?”

  Raising my hands, I blew out a breath into them trying to warm myself up a little. Winters in Chicago could be brutal. As we walked up the street, our feet crunching on the ice, my body curled into my jacket. I could see her watching me out of the corner of my eye. Every girl wants to go back to my place. I don’t allow it often and I certainly wasn’t going to tonight.

  We took a cab to her place about five miles from the bar. I wasted no time when I brought her lips to mine once we were inside her apartment. When her lips finally touched mine, they were hesitant and unsure. I’m sure she didn’t know what to make of this but you don’t go to a bar and ask for me to come over, and then be shocked when I’m taking your clothes off. It doesn’t work that way.

  I unbuckled my belt and then my jeans pushing them down just enough to free myself, gliding my hand from base to tip twice. There was part of me that was teasing her to see what she’d do. If she was serious. And there was also a part of me that wanted her to beg for it a little. You couldn’t blame me on that one.

  “You’re so sexy, Leo.” My hands moved to her ass while both her legs curled around my waist, her heels pressed against my bare ass, feeling me flexing forward.

  I watched the movements in her chest, her stomach, the look on her face. I watched the way Lexi watched me, so unsure but yet, never stopping. Something in the way she looked at me made me think of Callie. This girl was taking everything I was giving her, moaning in my ear to never stop and gripping me tightly.

  Without breaking eye contact, I entered her hoping to see something different, feel something different, something that would rid my mind of the feeling of Callie pressed against me in only the way that she could.

&nbs
p; If I had truly changed my behavior, why was I here now with this girl and not Callie. I could have went up to her at the bar and demanded she talk to me, begged her to talk to me, anything. But I didn’t. That was just as much my fault.

  I kissed Lexi deeply, trying to free my mind, sliding in and out of her trying to forget what was really bothering me. Only it did nothing but complicate what I was feeling.

  Damn you, vagina. Damn you all to hell.

  Callie Pratt

  Puck Shy - When a player or goalie shies away from the puck.

  When I woke up Saturday morning after the Hawks game Friday night, I was both relaxed because I saw Leo, and yet again, confused after seeing him. After the game I left Scott at the bar. Scott wasn’t someone I was seeing. He was a district manager for Nordstrom’s and wanted to see a hockey game. I have season tickets with great seats. Sometimes I share with people. That just happened to be a game where I took someone with me. Nothing more but I know how that looked to Leo. Especially when I showed up at the bar with him. He probably thought I brought Scott there on a date.

  I knew exactly what Leo must have thought seeing me with Scott. So I understood when he went up to Lexi and started talking to her.

  What I didn’t understand was why did he leave with her?

  Why did you show up with Scott?

  Motherfuck, this was a mess.

  I rolled over in bed, reveling in the fact that I didn’t have to work today. I loved Saturdays for that very reason. The early morning light shown through the small window in my bedroom. Light purple walls reflected the light, dimming it enough that I didn’t have to squint given my high intake of alcohol last night. Pulling my dark gray down comforter up over my shoulders, I tried to keep warm as I stared at my cell phone on my night stand.

  My gut twisted as I contemplated looking at my messages causing my heart to race. I’ve been avoiding those damn messages for the last week. It started when the first ones came through from Leo and I didn’t have the courage to read them. And I knew there were at least thirty or so. I wanted to look at them but I didn’t want the disappointment and the anger to consume me. And last night confirmed there would be realities I didn’t want to face by listening to those reminders of my choices the past week.

  He was still that same guy. The Chicago Blackhawks player who had a different girl every night. I imagined he had at least one in Florida too. Just the thought made my stomach twist again.

  And who was I to him besides a piece of ass with no strings attached?

  Well, I’ll tell you, I was the same girl. Callie Pratt. The Chicago Blackhawks puck bunny. I usually don’t like that term but I suppose in a lot of ways that’s what I am.

  My reason for not calling Leo had more to do with fear than anything. Anytime I’ve ever felt something more than just sex when I’m with a guy, it’s been with Leo. I felt so much that night. I know he did too. That scared me. As much as I didn’t want to say it, Dave did a number on me and the reality of what I was doing with my life by sleeping around was not easy to accept.

  Sure, I’ve been in love before. Tanner Hicks. Just thinking the name sends a little ping to my broken heart. Dated him my sophomore year in high school to our senior together. He was just out of the junior hockey league and entering the draft when he decided that puck bunnies were a good time. Then I guess it became something where I thought if I had that lifestyle too, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. Not exactly the best thinking but it was a plan of mine. Turned out, I never grew out of it. Some might think that was childish because at twenty-three I should know better but I loved my life and my friends. That’s what I thought about all of my lovers. Friends.

  I had a good job, had my own apartment that I was able to afford in Chicago by myself, went to every Blackhawks home game and was genuinely happy with life.

  I spend more time around hockey players than I do around girlfriends. In fact, I have no girlfriends aside from Ami. Ever since the Dave incident, we got a lot closer because she was someone I could talk to who didn’t pass a single ounce of judgment. She easily could have but Ami is the most sincere person I know. Just a girl with a good honest heart who cares deeply for the ones she loves. She’s a perfect match for the heart and passion of Evan Masen. Absolutely perfect.

  Growing up, I was small. Long dark hair, knobby, scabbed up knees from playing with the boys and wide brown eyes. Most people wondered if I was part Mexican or Puerto Rican with my darker olive skin. My dad is about as American as they came but my mother was from El Salvador. How she wound up with a man like Ed Pratt was beyond me.

  Back to me. If I look back and reflect on why I didn’t have many friends, I think it has to do with them thinking I was going to steal their boyfriends. It was never like that but it never stopped the thoughts from surfacing in any female friendships I’d formed. When I first met Ami, Evan’s girlfriend, I thought for sure that was going to happen too. After all, I’d had a thing with Evan, or Mase as most of us called him, for a while.

  It was certainly nothing serious but it was enough that I was concerned that she would think I would be jealous that she was now in a relationship with him.

  I wasn’t and now we’re best friends.

  Resting my chin on the edge of my bed, I glanced down at the floor. There was a clear indication of my sobriety, or lack thereof, last night. A trail of my clothes led from my front door where my black boots were to my bed where my jeans and bra were laying. No surprise I still had my Blackhawks jersey on.

  Sighing, a piece of my hair blew up in the process and back down in my face like a wilted flower. Then I stared at my phone, confused.

  Why was this so hard for me?

  Why couldn’t I just talk to Leo?

  Was he still with her or did he leave in the morning?

  See, I just kept going back to the fact that he left with a girl.

  I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me. Like he has to be nice because of what happened to me. Out of anyone, I didn’t want Leo feeling like he had to tiptoe around me just because of that.

  I had certainly never had a problem with talking to him in the past. In fact, if there was anyone I could talk to, it would be him.

  Well, probably because I got all emotional on him the other day and acted like I was in love.

  Leo Orting wasn’t someone you wanted to be in love with. If you were, you were going to get your heart broken. He’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. I was probably the closest thing he’s ever had to one and we barely got along. He acted like a fucking child half the time and anytime we were in public, I felt like I was babysitting him rather than dating him.

  I must have laid there for an hour before I convinced myself it was time to finally look at my messages I’d avoided all week.

  As I picked up my phone there was a message that came through from Ami.

  Ami: Shopping?

  I’m no one to turn down shopping.

  Me: Sure. Come by my place in like 2 hours?

  Ami: Why 2 hours?

  Me: I need to shower and get some food.

  Ami: I’ll pick you up in 1 hour and bring food with me.

  Me: I love you.

  Ami: I know you do!

  As I stumbled around my apartment and towards my bathroom, I gasped that I had forty-six text messages from Leo. I figured he would have tried to get a hold of me but forty-six messages?

  They started out funny, entertaining and some endearing.

  Leo: Thinking of you.

  And then others were growing concerned.

  Leo: Are you even alive? Should I call the police?

  Then came the dirty ones. The ones where I knew he was pulling out all the stops in order to get me to text him back.

  Leo: Listen, I’m sorry if you thought it didn’t mean anything but we’ve been friends for years. Why won’t you call me?

  That message came with a selfie of his bottom lip out.

  Laughing, I touched the screen and the full lips that had given m
e such pleasure a week ago. God, was that man sexy? If there was ever a player I was attracted to more than any of them, it was Leo Orting. He stood tall and lean, a hot shot center with looks that made you drool. Brown wavy hair that looped in some spots, usually over his ears when it got longer. And those piercing blue eyes full of life and laughter, and just the right amount of muscles. So much muscles but not overly large like some players are. He was built for speed and it was apparent.

  The message that made me nearly have a heart attack was the one of his dick. He’d actually sent me one of his fucking dick. Hard and with the words, suck me Callie written in black ink.

  I spit out my toothpaste and stared at the image on my phone, moving it in different directions to see it at various angles.

  Jesus. Look at that dick. It was ready for me.

  I wanted to send him a message right then that said, bring it over. But I didn’t. For one, I didn’t know where we stood with one another after last night. Seeing him leaving with that girl wasn’t easy to watch. And I’d ignored him for a week now. Me sending a message that said bring that dick over here wouldn’t exactly send the right message right now, would it.

  “No. It wouldn’t.” I said to myself looking at my reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at me wasn’t the one I usually saw. This girl looked confused.

  So she fit me just fine.

  Ami was right on time, came up to my apartment to get me even. She was probably afraid I wouldn’t come. I had bailed on her on Wednesday night so she was a bit apprehensive now. Couldn’t blame her on that one.

  “Why do you look flustered?” She asked handing me a brown bag from Starbucks and a coffee.

  “I read my text messages from Leo.” Ami watched me as she walked inside setting her own coffee down on the counter.

  She sat down at on a barstool at the kitchen counter and opened the other bag to retrieve her blueberry muffin. “You mean the one where he sent a picture of his penis?” Her cheeks flushed when she said penis. Ami might be involved with a hockey player and subjected to some of the foulest language around, but she still couldn’t say it herself without looking like a child cussing in front of her parents.