2. Griffin
Itook my time showering and changing into my board shorts after Carson and I did our morning lifting and cardio sessions.
Living next door to a former teammate and now a fellow D1 hockey player has had its perks over the years. One is that I’ve always had someone to train with. Carson may be two years younger than me, but he’s a hell of a hockey player and never stops striving to be the best.
He’s eighteen now, so I was surprised to hear at his graduation party that he’s waiting another year to enter the NHL draft. I hope we play on the Summits together someday. We’ve always had a great connection on the ice—it just clicks when we play together.
I cross our yard and punch in the code to open the side gate to get into the Wilder’s backyard. My favorite pup ever, Kenna’s dog, Ranger, greets me by jumping up on his hind legs and licking my chin. “How’s my Goodest Boy doing today? Huh, buddy?” I ask, petting behind his ears, just the way he likes.
“She’s here, isn’t she? Am I screwed?” I ask Ranger. His response is a bigger tail wag.
Turning the corner of the house, I stop in my tracks when I see her.
McKenna Wilder.
I’m so fucked this summer.
McKenna has grown up over the past two years, and it shows. I know it’s not just that enticing hot pink bikini, or this summer heat getting to me. Ever since I saw her at her graduation, Kenna has had my full attention.
It felt like torture trying to play it cool at their graduation party. Guys were hanging off her every word, totally entranced by her. And who could blame them?
Let me preface this by saying, I’m not the kind of guy who gets jealous because of a girl. I’ve always told myself that I’d get over my feelings for Kenna—that they were fleeting; they needed to be. She’s my little sister’s best friend, and she’s two years younger than me. The four of us have always been close—me, Katie, Kenna, and Carson.
But seeing her in that red outfit at her graduation party, with her honey-blonde hair curled in waves down to her waist, I was feral each time a guy approached her, touched her arm, or made her laugh.
Looking at her now, perched back on her elbows, with her hair pulled up into a messy bun, leaving her slender neck exposed, soaking in the sun . . . I’m a goner.
See ya.
Bye.
And that body. Oh my god, that body.
The bikini she’s wearing doesn’t leave much to the imagination, which I appreciate. Kenna’s breasts weren’t there the last time I saw her. At least, they’ve changed significantly from what I recall. They’re probably the perfect handful—not too much to handle for someone with bigger hands like me.
Her slender stomach is lean and highlights her toned abs, which she has undoubtedly worked hard for. As an athlete, I can respect how much time she puts in at the gym.
Kenna’s once lanky legs are now tanned and toned to perfection, making her athletic figure even more appealing. What I wouldn’t give to have those legs wrapped around my waist, anchoring herself to me. Get a grip, man.
This girl . . . I’m twenty—I shouldn’t let her get under my skin like some hormonal teenager. I’ve got too much to focus on.
“There he is. Griff, my man! Come and play water volleyball with us. We’ll play 2v2—us versus the girls,” Carson says when he notices me.
“Alright. Let’s take these ladies down a few notches,” I challenge as I rub my hands together.
Kenna snorts. Turning her head toward me, she taunts, “Yeah? Let’s see if you can handle the duo that’ll be owning the beach, pool, and court this summer.”
“I have no doubt Griff and I will be doing just that,” Carson replies.
“Katie, let’s show our brothers what it’s like to have their asses handed to them by their sisters,” Kenna says.
“Correction, baby sisters,“ I emphasize in a condescending tone and wink at her.
Kenna scoffs, rises to her feet, and struts over to me. Don’t look at the way her tits bounce as she walks—eyes up, fucker.
We’re nearly chest-to-chest when she says, “I’m not a baby anymore, Griff. I’d say it’s about time you realize that.” Her voice is lower, sultrier.
Well, shit. My eyes deceive me and trail down Kenna’s bronzed frame. She crosses her arms over her chest, making her perky breasts even more noticeable. And trust me . . . I notice.
Two can play this game, baby doll.I raise both my hands up as if to show I’m surrendering. But instead of letting them fall, I bring them to the back of my neck and slowly lift my shirt over my head.
I throw my shirt onto the lounge chair next to us, exposing the body I’ve worked my ass off for. Yeah, I might be making a show of it as I lightly scratch my bare chest.
It’s Kenna’s piercing aquamarine eyes that deceive her now as they rake down my traps, deltoids, and muscular chest.
She continues her survey over each rivet of my washboard abs. Her breath hitches when her gaze gets to the growing bulge in my shorts.
Kenna’s eyebrows raise almost to her honey-blonde hairline as her eyes meet mine again. Giving her my most debonair smirk, I shrug. “What can I say? The thought of smacking your ass in volleyball really gets me going.”
“God, you’re insufferable.” Her lips curl up like she’s disgusted, but her eyes are still heavy with lust. She’s just as fucked as I am.
Check. Mate.
“Twenty-four all,” Katie says as she serves the ball over the net. It has a wicked float that’s too much for Carson to handle. She gets an ace.
“Fuck! My bad, G. I’ve got the next one,” Carson assures me as he throws the ball back to Katie.
“You better, big bro. It’s match point after all. Wouldn’t want to get manhandled by your sis,” Kenna mocks.
“You’re right. I’d never want to get manhandled by you, but I wouldn’t mind if Katie handled me.”
“Carse, what the fuck? That’s my little sister.” I smack him over the back of the head.
“I’m obviously trying to mess with them, G. You know, trying to get in their heads so we can win this.” He scoffs at me like I’m an idiot.
“Oh yeah, the thought of handling your tiny package really has me out of sorts.” Katie snickers as she turns toward Kenna, and they high-five.
They laugh together for a few more seconds before Katie goes back to serve again. This one comes over the net, and Carson’s serve-receive is spot-on.
Instead of setting him up like the girls are expecting I smash the ball off his pass. It spins down over the net, right at Kenna. Before she can put her arms out to react, the ball makes contact with her chest, hard.
Carson and I shout as we do our special handshake. I turn back around toward Kenna. “Want me to nuzzle that spot for you? Looks like that hit left a stinger.”
“Eyes up, asshole,” Kenna says as she glares at me—her competitiveness is such a turn-on. She throws Carson the ball but keeps her glare glued to me.
“Come on, that hit was a beauty. Don’t even act like it wasn’t. Did you see me take that on two?”
“I’ve done better and been hit by worse.” Kenna continues, “Besides, we both know your ego can’t handle any more inflation. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
“Oh trust me, you could satisfy me just fine.”
Carson throws the ball at the back of my head and says, “Get your mind out of the gutter and head back in the game. It’s tied up, twenty-five all.”
He throws the ball up and jumps from the water as he serves the ball toward Katie. It’s a solid strategy, trying to throw them off their game. Katie is a setter, so when she has to receive the ball it means she either has to hit it, or get a good enough pass up to let Kenna hit it on the second touch like I did.
Katie’s pass is perfect, clearly unfazed by Carson’s serve. Kenna positions herself, biting her lip in concentration as she jumps out of the water for the hit.
I’m so distracted by her sinister mouth and her wet tits bouncing out of the water that I forget I’m supposed to block her hit. She makes solid contact and gets the kill to take the lead.
Jumping up and down to celebrate, her tits are taunting me. Thank god the water is hiding what’s going on below deck.
“Fuck if that’s fair.” I throw my hand up at her chest.
“What, did the girls distract you?” She feigns innocence, batting her lashes. She knows she’s affecting me. “I thought I was just Carson’s baby sister.”
Carson grimaces. “Jesus Mack, put a T-shirt on or something. I think one of them almost popped out. That’s the last thing I need to see.”
She catches the ball Carse throws to her and heads back to serve. “Twenty-six to twenty-five, match point.”
Kenna effortlessly tosses the ball up, makes contact, and the ball lurches over the net. Right at me. It has some sinister spin on it, the ball moves side to side before I can react. I barely get a hand on it as I shank it out of the pool. She aces me, and it’s game over.
Kenna and Katie jump up and down as they wrap their arms around each other. Carse and I line up at the net to shake their hands. We’ve been raised to be good sports.
The girls shake our hands, and I hold on to McKenna’s while I ask, “Are you going to Jackson’s tonight?”
“Of course we are,” she replies.
I watch as Katie and Carson get out of the pool before lowering my voice. “Tell me you’re planning on changing first,” I say before I realize the words are coming out of my mouth. Way to sound like a total douche, asshole.
Kenna looks genuinely thrown by my statement. She grips my hand a little tighter and replies, “Of course, I plan on changing. I plan on stripping down, taking a scalding-hot shower, and getting ready.”
My brows shoot up. Her answer not only surprises me but leads me to visualize Kenna in the shower. Hot. Soapy. Wet. Christ.
I’ve been half-hard since I set eyes on her an hour ago. I’m also going to need a long shower so I can work her out of my system before tonight.
Kenna interrupts my daydreaming when she says, “Not that it’s any of your business what I wear. I’m not your sister, and you’re not my keeper.”
“Trust me, baby girl, no need to remind me that you’re not my sister,” I reply with a wink.
“Good. Because I’m not sure whatever’s going on in your shorts right now would be very brotherly of you,” she mocks as she lets go of my hand and gets out of the pool seemingly unfazed by our conversation.
I watch her walk up the steps of the pool—jealous of the way the water trails down her perfect body—salivating at the way her hips sway as she walks over to her towel.
Who is this girl? Kenna and I have always been able to banter back and forth, but this feels different.
And what in the actual fuck is happening to me? None of my teammates would believe what just went down.
Typically, when girls throw themselves at me, I politely turn them down. At least for the past two years I’ve been in Boston I did, because I’d been in a relationship off and on.
My ex-girlfriend, Emily, was always so insecure about the attention I received. That’s how I knew we were short-term. She couldn’t handle the fact that girls threw themselves at me. She didn’t trust that I’d be faithful to her. Which I always was.
I honestly didn’t have the time to juggle multiple girls, especially when Emily tried to consume all my free time, and more, to compensate for her lack of confidence.
When you’re one of the top college hockey players in the nation, it’s almost impossible to fly under the radar. Whenever we had an away game, and I was tagged on social media in pictures from fans, Emily would lose it.
She’d spend the entire night blowing up my phone with texts and calls. It got to the point where I just couldn’t take the fighting and insecurity anymore.
My teammates were all surprised I stayed with her as long as I did. None of them understood why I had a girlfriend to begin with, and not one of them liked her.
What they didn’t realize was that when I had a girlfriend some of the girls on campus left me alone. Especially once they saw what Emily did to girls who would approach me at parties we were at together.
It may sound crass when I say it like that, but I did have feelings for Emily. She was different when it was just the two of us. I knew she could tell I wasn’t all in, but she stayed with me anyway. Maybe it was for the status that being with me brought her—I’m not sure.
Since I broke up with her, the girls have been relentless on campus. There are even TikTok and Instagram accounts dedicated to my hockey flow.
I snap myself out of the mental rabbit hole I’ve just gone down and get dried off.
“Hey man, I’m going to head home to shower and get ready. Want to order pizza when I get back, and then we can take an Uber to Jax’s?” I ask Carse on my way through the house.
“Yeah, sounds good to me. Think three larges will be enough this time?”
“I don’t know if Katie and Kenna will be okay with splitting a large. But they’re sure as shit not touching any of mine.”
“You’re right, four it is. Cold pizza as a late-night snack doesn’t sound bad if there are leftovers.”
“Damn straight. Later, C.”
I head across the yard to my house and take a long shower, letting thoughts of Kenna in that pink bikini consume me.