18. Griffin
18
GRIFFIN
I t’s kid chaos at my house a few days later. The girls are running around the backyard with Tanner’s kids, playing some game that’s a mix of tag plus make-believe divided by red rover. In their world, the game has a rigid set of rules impenetrable to us adults.
I think I prefer kid chaos to the chaos swirling inside my head after that drive-by blow job I got from Jack. My body is still on fire from the hookup, flashes of sizzling heat sliding over my skin as I think back to Jack’s mouth on mine, his lips stretched around my cock.
Well, my first time doing anything with a guy was memorable, at least.
Tanner and Des have come over to help me with building the ice castle treehouse for the girls. We’re putting up the walls today, then I’ll paint. I found a soft blue color and glitter additive that’ll give the structure a shimmy, icy look. Luckily, today is one of those late winter days that’s been more like spring, sunny and warm enough to be outside.
“Did you see the email from Bill?” Tanner asks as he lines up another board, which Des screws in with the power drill. They have a system down. “We have to go to the rink tomorrow morning.”
“Our old practice time?” I ask. The time we wanted before Jack beat me for it. “Will the Blades be there?”
“I assume so.” He shrugs, out of information.
“I wonder if they tattled about all the pranks.” Des, whose phone has been in his hand the entire time we’ve been working, clicks to the email and reads it aloud. “All Comebacks are asked to attend a quick meetup tomorrow morning at the tail end of the Blades’ practice. Yadda yadda, yadda. Blah, blah, blah.” Des screws in the nail with the power drill. “That’s weird. I play hockey to avoid pointless meetings.”
“Do you think Jack is mad about the pranks?” Tanner passes me a plank of wood to nail into the structure. “You two are oil and water whenever you’re around each other.”
Or maybe we’re oil and a match, engineered to explode on impact. My stomach does a roller coaster loop at how combustible we were.
“I don’t think it’s that,” I say.
“You think he’s still getting back at you because of his dad?” Tanner asks, aiding me in lining up the plank, a minor difficulty with having one functioning eye.
“No. Jack and I are just opposing teammates.”
Des studies my face like one of those quirky detectives on TV who can walk into a crime scene and tell the police exactly what happened.
“Heads!” yells Tanner’s son Dean as a kickball whizzes by. Tanner catches it an inch from my face.
“Dean, watch where you’re playing.” Tanner throws it back to him.
“Sorry.” He grabs the ball and races back to the kids.
Des swings the power drill around his finger, a confident smile on his lips. “You know, in my job, I’m involved in high-stakes negotiations. Millions of dollars on the line. It’s made me really good at reading the people across from me and deciphering when they’re holding back information.”
“What’s your point?” I grumble.
“You and Jack fucked.”
“Des!” Tanner shushes him, nods at the kids not too far away.
“My bad. You and Jack forked.”
“We didn’t…do that.” I think about denying, but my friends would never believe me. And when it comes to sex, Des is fucking clairvoyant. “We did things adjacent to that.”
“You finally kissed a boy, and you liked it?” Des asks.
I nod yes.
Des and Tanner hi-five each other, then surround me in a victory hug not unlike what happens when we win a game. They better not think about hoisting me up. I give them a minute to revel then push them back.
“What happened, Daddy?” Annabelle asks me.
“Your Daddy hit a very important, long overdue, milestone,” Des says. “He made a new friend.”
She gives me a thumbs up.
“Annabelle, why don’t you go back to playing? Have you shown the kids your new bracelet?”
She perks up with a fresh wave of excitement and skitters off. I sigh in relief when she’s out of earshot. I don’t need my dad life and sex life to ever intersect.
“How was it?” Tanner asks. “Everything you thought it would be?”
“Better,” I say without hesitation. Better can’t even describe how thoroughly reality outstripped expectations. I’d been so scared about hooking up with a guy because I didn’t think I’d know what to do. Nobody likes being a forty-four-year-old newbie with anything, much less sexual prowess. Jack pulled me out of my head, though. In that alley, I didn’t think. I just did. I let myself get taken over by the moment, let myself take what I wanted from Jack without a thought to the future. A flash to grabbing Jack by the hair and bobbing him on my dick comes to mind, sending a shiver of lust tearing through my chest.
“I’m really happy for you, man.” Des claps me on the back.
“How could you tell?” I ask.
“You seem different. A man with the answers to all the secrets in the universe.”
I know Des is kidding. He’s not that perceptive. But despite my nonstop thinking about Jack, I do feel a kind of invincibility that I can’t explain. Maybe this is why teens and twentysomethings can be cocky shits. They think having sex unlocks a new plane of being.
“So when are you seeing him again?” Tanner holds another piece of wood that Des drills in. Des blows the top of the drill when he’s done.
“Well, I’ll see him at the meeting tomorrow. And aside from that, probably never.”
Their shoulders slump at the news.
“It was one-time thing. We had to get it out of our systems.”
“No, you don’t. It’s not gonorrhea. He’s young, dumb, and obviously full of come. Carpe that diem. You need to make up for lost time,” Des says as his phone buzzes with another notification.
The thought of getting to hold Jack in my arms, to taste his lips, makes me dizzy with want all over again. But the way Jack left as soon as I blew my load down his throat clearly means it was a one-and-done thing for him.
“Just keep this between us. The last thing I need is this getting out, for multiple reasons.”
Tanner gives me a salute. Des revs the power drill, which I’m assuming is a yes from him.
June walks around the treehouse, inspecting our work with a shrewd gaze.
“How’s it looking?” I ask.
“I’m liking what I see,” she says with a hedge, though her beaming eyes tell me she’s absolutely in love. She points to an opening above Tanner. “That window needs to be bigger.”
“Bigger?” he asks.
“Like a balcony, where I can greet my royal subjects,” she explains with utmost seriousness.
He looks at me, and I give the nod of approval. We’ll make sure the window sill is tall enough that she or Annabelle won’t fall out.
“Done,” Tanner tells her with a little salute.
She marches over to Des who is absorbed in typing something on his phone. She clears her throat. It takes him a moment to look up.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Mom and Dad say excessive screen time is bad for you,” she tells him. “You’ve been on your phone a lot today, Mr. Des.”
“Screens are only bad for kids. Adults have superpowers that allow them to be on phones however long they’d like.” When he doesn’t have a hockey stick in his hand, I’ve noticed that Des is usually glued to his phone. He claims he’s constantly having to email people for his job, but when I glance over, more often than not, I find him on social media or Milkman, a gay dating app.
“Humans don’t have superpowers,” she says back.
“Pretend superpowers.”
“If it’s pretend then it isn’t real.” June is nothing if not coldly logical. “Isn’t it dangerous to be on your phone while working with sharp tools? Isn’t that a bad example you’re setting?”
I glance at Tanner, who’s seconds away from bursting out with laughter. June could have a very successful career as a prosecutor.
She crosses her arms. Des’s eyes widen slightly as he realizes my little girl is serious. That’s the thing with kids: they have a knack for being blunt without warning.
“F-fine.” Des slides his phone back in his pocket. He waves his empty hand at June for proof.
“Good. Now everyone back to work!” June yells.
“June,” I say sternly.
“Please,” she adds.
Tanner gives her a stealth thumbs up. June waves goodbye to us. She points to her eyes then to Des before running back to the other kids.
“Did I just get my ass handed to me by a kid?” Des wonders.
* * *
The next morning, I get to Summers Rink and find my teammates waiting in the front lobby. The Blades are practicing on the ice. I spot Jack pull his stick back and slam a shot into the empty goal. My stomach takes another spin on an upside-down roller coaster.
I need to hook up with more men. A lot more men. That will help my lust for Jack fade away. Or it could make me measure every man against him and find none of them compare.
“What the fuck are we doing here?” Derek asks.
“Good question. Your buddy the mayor wanted to talk to us. That’s all I know.” Bill wipes the remaining sleep from his eyes.
“Do you think we’re getting a key to the city? Would we each get a key?” Hank asks. “How heavy do you think those keys are?”
None of us have the energy to answer his questions. Leo waltzes through the rink’s entrance in a black peacoat over a crisp shirt and slacks. A part of me wonders if he sleeps in a suit.
“Morning!” he says to us.
“Leo, what the fuck is this about?” Derek asks. Fortunately, they’re childhood friends so he’s allowed to throw an F-bomb the mayor’s way.
“Follow me.” His smile is chipper, the wheels turning behind his eyes as he walks past us to the rink. He whistles through his fingers to get the Blades’ attention. They stop their practice and skate to the edge of the ice.
“I hope you don’t mind that I crashed your practice,” Leo says.
“It’s cool. We’re just wrapping up.” Jack takes off his helmet, his hair thick and shiny with sweat, red lips popping against the bright white of the ice. He is just as sexy as he was the other night. I truly don’t know how I’ll resist him, but if I can live life without my left eye, I can make it without Jack Gross.
Our eyes meet for a millisecond before he returns to the mayor.
“I wanted to discuss an idea I had.” Leo warms up his hands and stands on the bottom bleacher. Being a politician, the man can’t help but always go for the best angles. “Most of the guys on the Comebacks are local legends. Over twenty years ago, they played together at South Rock High School where they won back-to-back state championships, the only time that’s happened in the school’s history. The Wolf Pack. You were and still are legends. And you’re showing all of us that your hockey days aren’t over. Far from it.” Leo claps for us. He’s the only one that does.
He clears his throat to continue. “And the Blades are also made up of champions. Dominick Miller and Jay Fuentes played at Briar Hills High, part of the team which also won a state championship a few years back.”
My teammates and I roll our eyes at “a few years back.”
“And then we have Jack Gross.”
Leo points to Jack like he’s the grand prize on a game show. Jack’s cheeks are still red from playing, but there’s a shade of blush mixed in.
“MVP at Briar Hills two years in a row. He was the force behind that championship. Number one player with goals and assists. And then of course, Jack was drafted and then played in the NHL for four seasons. He’s an actual pro hockey player.”
Jack looks like the acclaim is a medieval torture device on him.
“You brought us out here to run through our resumes?” Bill asks.
“I’m getting to my point.”
“Could you get there already?” Bill is never one for bullshit, no matter who it’s coming from.
“We have two generations of local athletes. And a professional hockey player. It’s a perfect battle of young” —he points to the Blades before pointing to us— “versus old.”
“Thanks,” deadpans Hank.
“So what I propose is changing up the game schedule and setting what I call a Sourwood Face Off: a special charity game of the old guard vs. the new guard. The Comebacks vs. the Blades. We promote it as a big event, get the whole town out. All ticket sales can go to charity. The Wolf Pack versus the young guns. The amateurs versus the pro. What do you think?”
My teammates and I share glances of uncertainty. None of us want to lose on such a public stage, in front of everyone we know. We don’t want to prove people’s assumptions right, that hockey is a young man’s game. And I can’t help but think this is a disaster in the making for myself especially. I’m still rusty, very rusty.
“Let’s do it.” Jack steps forward, confident as ever. “That is, unless the Comebacks don’t feel comfortable with it.”
“Game on,” Bill says without hesitation. He shakes Jack’s hand. This time, I feel Jack’s eyes on me, but I can’t meet his.
Bill’s determination lights a fire that spreads to all of us. We may be old, but we are still as competitive as fuck, and we play to win.
“Excellent. We’ll set up the game for a month from now.” Leo claps his hands in victory. Him with his darn PR wins. “This is going to be great. A charity hockey game targeting multiple demographics of Sourwood residents.”
“Nothing cynical about that at all.” Des raises an eyebrow.
Leo throws his coat over his shoulder and leaves. The Blades and the Comebacks stare each other down.
“We look forward to kicking your ass,” Jack says, winking at us. Although that wink feels specifically targeted to me.