28. Benji
Benji
“So, I have an idea.” Grant plops down next to me, shoveling tater tots into his mouth.
We’re in Nevada for the weekend to play against the Cavaliers, but it feels strange.
Jordie’s been called up for a few games with the Minnesota Chill, so we’re watching his NHL game from the couch, cheering him on while we chow down on some wings.
It’s what we all dream of, so even though I don’t love the way it feels being here without him, I’m stoked for the guy.
It just sucks to be without him and without Lyssa.
I know it’s not realistic to expect her to want to hop on the road with me after a handful of dates, but after this week, I’m having a hard time keeping away from her, even for the game I love.
I’m states away, but she’s still in my head and under my skin.
I’m finding myself constantly replaying the view from between her legs, how responsive she was to my mouth, her hands gripping my hair.
The way she looked, rocking on top of me, her mouth parted on a sigh as the pleasure overtook her.
The way she squeezed my cock, causing me to nearly black out from the feeling as she screamed my name.
It’s never been like that for me. On one hand, it’s fucking terrifying. On the other…I’m just counting the hours until I get to do it again.
“Yo,” Grant says, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
“Sorry, man.” I cough, returning my focus to him. “Idea?”
“So, I think we should pull one more prank on the rook. He’s been racking up the goals, getting all full of himself.
How’s this sound: We swap numbers in his phone before our next night out, and switch his sweetie with Coach’s number.
Then we play some truth or dare type game, and tell him to text his girl “I can’t wait to see you in bed later tonight” or something like that.
He’ll think, huh, this isn’t so bad, but he won’t realize he’s actually texting Coach.
” Grant beams. “Can you imagine the look on Coach’s face during practice the next morning? ”
I grab a wing and frown at him. “You came up with this whole idea while taking a shit?”
“It’s when I do my best thinking.”
My phone lights up, and I see “L” pop up on the screen.
Lyssa told me how Andi calls her that to avoid confusion, and I immediately jumped on it.
Not only is it easier, but I’m also happy to know I’m also not the only person she’s confided in.
“Look, as long as you keep it safe and fun,” I say to Grant.
“We’re better than that old school shit. Don’t take it too far.”
Grant salutes me, and I swipe across on my phone, smiling as Lisa’s face pops up. She’s on her couch, and I can see the tip of Winston’s tail in the corner of the screen. “Well, hey, stranger,” she says.
“Well, hey yourself,” I respond. Winston’s tail starts thumping at the sound of my voice, and I feel the couch shift as Grant leans over.
“Hey, Lisa!” he shouts, waving a wing at her from over my shoulder.
“So this is your natural state,” she says with a grin. “Sitting on a couch, wings in hand.”
“You got me,” he replies around a mouthful of chicken, and returns his attention to the TV.
I lean back with a smile. “Are you watching the game, too?”
She nods, her eyes drifting over the phone, I assume to her own TV. “I am. I’ve only seen Jordie once or twice, though.” She pauses, then says, “I have been hearing the name Polk a lot, though. If only I had you here to drink with.”
“Oh, don’t you worry.” I shift to pick up my beer and waggle it in front of my phone. “We can play a long distance drinking game.”
She grins and as if on cue, the announcer yells, “Oh, god, what a great opportunity between the legs there!”
At this, we all laugh and cheer, and Lyssa gets up to walk to her fridge, putting her phone down to search for a drink.
The way her phone sits, propped up on her counter, gives me the perfect view of her tiny lounge shorts, which pull tight over her ass as she bends over to locate a beer.
My mind drifts to the thought of bending her over in that position the next time we’re together, and I’m forced to adjust myself in my pants.
“So, remind me again. Jordie’s being called up for just a few games with the Chill to start?” she asks, fully vertical again and cracking her beer. I’m grateful for the change in subject, even if the sound of her speaking my language makes something flutter in my stomach.
“Yep. He’s really holding his own, though. If he keeps crushing it, he’ll be in the league full time sooner rather than later.”
“Good for him,” she muses. “But that’s a bummer for you if you lose him.”
“No bummer." Okay, small bummer, but I'm beyond proud of him. "That’s the end goal for all of us.”
“You’re such a good friend.” She smiles at me, and I swear, I damn near flush at the praise. I’m used to getting compliments on my game, but the way she talks about me as a person makes me happy on a deeper level.
We sit there for a little while, simply drinking and cheering every time Jordie takes the ice or something sexual is said. It feels like it could be a new normal for me, and it does funny things to my chest.
So, that’s why when I ask what her plans are for Thanksgiving this coming week, and she doesn’t have any, I find myself saying, “Come to mine. Everyone would love you.”
She’s silent for so long, I wonder if the connection has been lost. Finally, she shifts on the screen, and I realize she simply hasn’t said anything, which makes it so, so much worse. “Benji…I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
My heart sinks, even as my head realizes it’s a perfectly logical response. “Yeah, no, sorry,” I reply, clearing my throat. “I just don’t want you to be alone on a holiday.”
She shoots me a tentative smile. “I won’t be. I’ll probably end up going with Andi, or maybe Paul and his family. Don’t worry about me; I’ll find something to do.” She pauses, then says, “I should probably go clean up around here. I’ll see you when you get back, though, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
Grant stares at me as I hang up the phone.
“Did you just invite a girl that you’ve been on three dates with – that took ages to convince to go out with you – to come to your family Thanksgiving?”
I know he’s right, but the embarrassment of the situation makes me go on the defensive. “Oh, yeah? At least I’m shooting my shot with my girl. When are you going to admit your feelings to the girl you’ve been sleeping with for months?”
“Oh, get fucked.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “I did. That’s how I got here.”
It’s been a long few days, and today is looking like it'll be another one. Ever since I offered for Lyssa to come to my family’s place for Thanksgiving, she’s pulled back, claiming she’s been too busy to see me, even after we got back from Nevada.
We still talk every day, sure, but I can tell she’s put more distance between us.
I’ve been working hard to keep my mind focused on our last few games, and at least that’s been paying off.
This is the last game before Thanksgiving, but of course, it’s against the Pirates.
I work my way through our warm-ups, trying to keep my mind off the fact that Roberts is back on my ice and that Lyssa is in the crowd.
I avoid glancing to the other side of the ice, but my eyes can’t help but travel up to find Lyssa in the crowd. She’s sitting with Andi, wearing a black Leopards sweater.
Wait. Is that my sweater? I think back to the last time we were together, and wonder if she snagged my sweater on the way out.
The thought makes me grin. The fact she’s claiming me as hers in this small way has my body wanting to respond in kind.
The only thing hotter would be to see her up there in my jersey. Fuck…now there’s an idea.
I shake off the thought and work to keep my head in the moment as we transition into the game.
If anything, having her in the stands makes me work harder.
We set up beautiful plays, moving the puck like a dream, and it’s a tie game at the end of the first. When we enter the second period, it’s clear that there’s a shift in the energy.
We’re dominating, spending most of the period in the Pirates’ zone, leaving our end of the ice looking pristine.
It’s almost laughable, and I can tell Roberts is flustered, which makes it all the better.
In the middle of the chaos, there’s a sudden break in the traffic, and I see a straight line to Levi in front of the net.
I send the puck sailing his way, and watch out of the corner of my eye as the goalie follows the pass, squaring up to Levi to make the save.
Levi sees it too and fakes a shot, only to send the puck back my way instead.
I catch his pass and shoot in the same breath, sending the puck spiraling into the net. It clinks decisively against one bar before pinging off the other, finally settling into the back of the net. God, that is one of my favorite sounds in the world.
My linemates barrel into me to celebrate, but as we break apart and skate to center ice to line back up, I can’t help but look for Lyssa in the crowd.
She’s leaning forward, a proud smile painted on her face as she gazes at me.
When the announcer roars, “Gooooallll, number seventeen, Benjamin Esteeessss!” she gives me a subtle thumbs up, and I can’t help but point at her and return the thumbs up.
Her responding blush is a favorite view of mine.
“That your new sweetie, Estes?” Roberts skates up behind me, taking his time lining back up.
I don’t respond, so he continues. “I wouldn’t mind taking a run at her. She’s a sniper.”
I clench my jaw and take a beat to respond. When I do, I work to keep my tone level. “Yeah, it must suck that you can’t get your dick wet. They usually take one look at that ugly mug and run the other way.”