Shoot Your Shot

Chapter Sixteen

Sixteen

Jaylen

Lucy forces open the front door to her apartment, displacing a pile of clunky shoes gathered near the entrance. As expected, her place is as eccentric and interesting as she is. Like trying to fit a sleeping bag back into its sack, her apartment is overflowing: too much stuff and not enough room.

I move a pile of clothes off her couch and make myself comfortable gazing around her place. Abstract colorful artwork lines her walls. The paintings look like the artwork in those Magic Eye books; I stare hoping to find the secret image but end up cross-eyed instead. Perched on a bookshelf across the room is a set of taxidermied mice dressed and posed as various anime characters. I don’t know if I’m impressed with her collection or creeped out. Half the stuff in here looks acid trip inspired and the other half looks like cursed artifacts. Cabinets bang open and shut as Lucy gets a couple of wineglasses from her kitchen and pours us each a tall glass, finishing off the bottle from the restaurant.

“Nice place,” I say, accepting the drink from her hand.

The apartment itself reminds me a bit of the first place I ever rented in New York: exposed brick, cement floors, tiny furniture. Hers is far more cluttered than anything I’ve ever lived in before. When you live a lifestyle like mine, you learn to consolidate; as a professional hockey player, my life involves a lot of traveling and moving around. I never found the time to fill up all the space I had, at least not the way Lucy fills up a room.

I wiggle into the couch, but I’m too big to get into a good position. I would have preferred to take her back to my place, where I have a California king bed and a fridge full of my favorite foods, but when a pretty girl invites you back to her place, you don’t ask too many questions.

“Thanks. I lived with my friend Cooper for years while I waited to get into a low-income apartment. I got lucky and got into one of the nicer ones. Plus, it’s close to work,” Lucy explains as she dips out of sight into the next room. When she reappears, she’s in her underwear, carrying a new pair of pants in her hand. “Do you like your neighborhood?”

I try to keep a straight face while she changes into sweatpants in front of me. I almost forgot about the matching snake tattoos on her hips. “I do. Most of the guys live out in the suburbs, but I prefer the city. It’s an easy commute to the rink.” I try to look everywhere but at her black lace underwear. I tug at the legs of my pants, discreetly adjusting myself because I’m pretty sure I’m about to get hard. Lucy will probably work herself into a fit of tears laughing at me if she notices.

“And you’re close to the best coffee shop in town,” she says, plugging her buddy Cooper’s café like a good friend.

“Exactly. Hopefully, I’ll get a multiyear deal after this season, and I can settle in and buy something. I didn’t want to be tied down this year, so I rented.” I take a sip of wine. I’m talking a lot—too much.

Lucy angles herself on the couch beside me. Setting my glass on the coffee table, I inch in closer to her, being as bold as to rest my arm along the back of the couch. Her lips have my full attention as she licks the wine off her supple pout. I, too, am desperate to taste its bitterness.

Neither of us are looking for anything serious right now, but that shouldn’t stop us from having a bit of fun. We kept it casual before; I’m sure I can do it again. As I start to lean into her, she pulls back and jumps off of the couch.

“Oh!” she says, darting back into the bedroom. I practically fall forward in her absence.

“Is everything okay?”

I hear the frantic opening and shutting of dresser drawers in the distance. “I have something of yours to return to you…if I can find it,” she shouts across the apartment.

Intrigued, I get up to walk to her but stop in the doorway of her bedroom, standing there like a vampire waiting to be invited inside. She turns to me and holds out a black silk tie.

“What’s that?” I can’t hide my intrigue. I’m not one to oppose a fun prop in the bedroom; there’s no shame in needing an assist.

“Please don’t think I’m weird or anything because I’ve held on to this, but you left your tie at the hotel after that night we spent together. I guess I kept it as some type of trophy. Not in like a weird serial killer way, but like a fun reminder of a crazy night. It still smells like you.” Lucy brings it up to her face and takes a big inhale. She rubs the silk tie against her cheek. “It’s so soft too,” she coos. She hands the tie over to me, but I refuse it, pulling back instead.

“That’s not mine.” I burst out laughing.

“Yes, it is. I found it under your bed, in your hotel room.” There is a slight panic in her tone.

“First of all, that’s not mine. Second of all, I’m not even sure that’s a tie. It looks like some type of bondage strap.”

“What!” Lucy shrieks, dropping the mystery strap on the ground in total disgust.

I continue to chuckle at the thought of Lucy holding on to someone’s sex strap thinking she was returning a lost tie. I wonder how many times she sniffed it and laugh a bit harder.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” she says with a grin as she kicks it away.

“I’m sorry, I’m being mean. It’s cute you held on to it.” I like the way her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I like the fact that she thought of me more.

“Really, it’s cute? My misfortune is cute to you?” She continues to tease me, doing that pouty thing with her bottom lip. She slowly approaches, inching her body closer to me until we’re face-to-face.

I nod. I’m not sure I have enough blood left in my brain to form a sentence, but I’m determined to try. “It’s cute when you blush,” I whisper.

I want her and I can’t hold out any longer. I lean in and Lucy’s wine-stained lips part. We kiss, agreeing to momentarily forget about our unwillingness to get into serious relationships, because the only thing that matters is this moment.

Lucy pulls me into her room and pushes me down on the bed. She slides on top of my lap and straddles me as we continue to make out. She runs her hands over my pecs and briefly wraps them around my neck. I let out a desperate moan. Taking her ass in my hands, I lift her and flip her onto her back. While standing over her, I pull off my shirt with one tug. Lucy shimmies her tight little shirt up over her head. Her chest is bare, and I stop to admire her from this angle. She looks so good lying there, waiting for me.

She pulls me down on top of her and wraps her legs around my waist. There’s no hiding my hard dick from her anymore. I know she can feel how big I am through my pants, because her breathing is becoming more labored as I grind against her. The pressure causes a moan to escape her mouth.

She brings her hand up to quiet herself, but I quickly pin it down to the mattress. “Don’t. I like that smart little mouth. I want to hear it say my name.” The wine from dinner is making me cockier than normal. Despite running my mouth like I’m in control, my body is shaking over her. Like I’m going through withdrawal, I need her now.

“Then make me.” Her lips part and we continue to kiss passionately, tangled up together half naked. I run my hands down her stomach, and as I start to slide my hand down the front of her pants, I hear it.

I stop what I’m doing. “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, sitting up to focus on the sound. It’s a wet noise, but somehow also sounds like dry grinding. It projects through the entire room.

“Already?” Lucy sighs.

“No, don’t worry,” I say, with a cocky smile. “What’s that noise?” I look around the dark room. The light from the table lamp beside us is just bright enough to illuminate all four corners in an ominous shadow, but I can’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Lucy props herself up on her elbows and looks around with me. “Oh, it’s just Sailor grooming herself,” Lucy says, undisturbed. With her arms wrapped around my neck, she kisses my mouth.

I kiss back momentarily, until the noise becomes even louder, and my attention is once again disrupted. “It sounds like someone’s sanding wood in here. Seriously, it’s so loud. Are we on top of her?” I roll off Lucy and begin to search for her cat. I lean over the side and peer under her bed, but there’s no cat in sight.

“Don’t you think you’re concerned with the wrong pussy?” she asks, joining in on the search.

“It sounds like an ASMR slime video in here. That can’t be healthy. What if she needs medical attention?” I continue to look around her room, checking under a dresser and desk.

“She’s fine. She’s up there.” Lucy points to the five-story cat tower looming in the corner of her bedroom.

My eyes follow the tower up to the top floor, where Sailor is perched, shamelessly cleaning her butthole at a vigorous pace.

“Wow.” I jump back. This is the first time I’ve ever made eye contact with an animal grooming themselves. The entire situation is made worse by my throbbing boner. “I’m not sure I can keep going with her looming over us like that. She’s really going at that thing. It’s physically hard to look away.” I stare unwillingly. I rub my eyes to break the trance.

“Sure, twenty thousand fans is nothing, but you can’t perform in front of one cat.” Lucy grabs my forearm and brings me back on the bed next to her.

“I’m used to scoring under pressure. I’m not used to seeing a cat’s butthole that close up.”

I didn’t want to be rude when Lucy suggested going back to her place, but now I’m wishing I was. I’m trying to be nice—out of fear I will be labeled a cat hater, which is most definitely a deal-breaker for her. I don’t hate cats, but I would prefer they didn’t watch me have sex.

“Fine.” Lucy rolls her eyes before getting up to guide Sailor off the tower and across the floor. “Sailor, shoo.”

We pick up where we left off, but before I can even get on top of Lucy—Sailor strikes again. Croaking replaces the momentary silence. Lucy tries to kiss me, but I can’t ignore it; Sailor is definitely having a medical emergency now.

“Is she okay? The cat sounds like she’s dying an actual death,” I say.

“She’s being dramatic. It’s probably a hair ball.”

Lucy starts kissing my neck, but out of the corner of my eye, I see the cat’s back arch, the way I hoped Lucy’s would tonight. Instantly, I know something bad is coming.

Vomit.

I can no longer hide the disgust on my face as I watch in terror. After getting it all out of her system, Sailor leaps back up her tower and curls up into a tight ball and settles to sleep.

“Really, Jaylen? I watched one of your little hockey games last week and saw a man stop a puck with his face, pick his tooth up off the ice, get ten stitches on the bench, and play the next shift. Someone had to come out with a shovel and scoop up all the bloody ice. And if that’s what’s happening in front of everyone, then what type of barbaric things are happening behind closed locker room doors,” Lucy says shrilly, still laid out on her bed topless.

I love it when she antagonizes me, but I’m too distracted to pay attention to her this time. I take a big whiff. “Can you smell that?” It’s rancid. I can’t even focus on how hot Lucy looks because the room is filled with the vile smell of bile.

“You’ve never had a cat, have you?” Her arms are now crossed over her chest, covering herself.

“No, thank god.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can filter them. “Wait,” I say, hearing myself, but the damage is done. Lucy pulls herself away from me without saying anything. “That came out wrong.” I try to salvage the moment.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. It was gross,” she says, head hung.

I feel terrible for what I said, and even worse because now Lucy clearly feels awkward around me. I reach down, grab her shirt off the floor, and hand it to her. She snatches it from me and quickly covers herself. I rub my hands over my face. I want to scream into them, but I don’t want to make her even more uncomfortable.

“Should I go?” I ask, bracing myself for her response.

“Yeah, I’ve got stuff to do tonight.” She sits—fully dressed and cross-legged on her bed—picking at her nails.

“Text me the details for the charity event and let me know what game you want tickets to. I’ll make sure you get good seats,” I say, sitting on the edge of her bed, trying to give her space. I grab my shirt off the floor and pull it over my head.

“Sounds good. I’ll text you good luck.” Lucy still won’t look up at me. “I should work on some sketches now,” she adds, turning to grab some art supplies off her nightstand.

“Okay. Have a good night.” I get off the bed and practically bolt for the door. I’ve never felt so stupid, not even the time I fumbled on a penalty shot and cost my team the win. I worked so hard to get this far with her, and now thanks to a stupid slip of the tongue, I’m right back at square one with Lucy.