11. Unforgettable
CHAPTER 11
UNFORGETTABLE
JAGGER
I close my laptop and stretch in my chair, glad for the break from this advanced coding class.
I would know this shit in my sleep, but passing an exam is a totally different matter, so I need to study.
To be honest, I don’t understand people like Cole and Ryker who care about their grades beyond what it takes to stay eligible to play. They have a signed contract with a NHL team waiting for them after graduation, it’s not like they need to use any of the stuff they learn in class.
My situation is totally different. I have the skills to go pro, and despite not entering the draft, I have been approached by several scouts willing to talk to me about a pro contract. Deep down, I’d want nothing but to meet with them and be a professional hockey player, but I can’t.
My family name comes with all sorts of expectations and one of them is that after graduation, I’ll work for the family company. In reality, I wouldn’t even need to work for a living, my family has enough money to last us for several lifetimes, living in luxury. But unless I want to be disowned, I need to follow the path that has been set for me by my father and my grandfather .
A part of me has been toying with the idea of giving up on the family fortune and choosing the career I feel passionate about; after all, pro hockey players earn millions, so it’s not like I’d be destitute if I didn’t go work for Connelly Tech. I don’t do it for the money though. My family isn’t like some of my friends’ who grew up with absentee parents and were raised by Nannies and paid staff.
The Connellys are a close knit bunch and what keeps me from even bringing up my desire to play in the NHL is that my dad would be extremely disappointed in me.
When I brought it up once, after winning the state championship with my prep school, Dad and Grandpa laughed at the idea. So that was it, I have known ever since that this is my last year playing hockey.
The noise of footsteps in the hallway distracts me from my reveries and I stretch again. Topher hates it when we’re late to the team meetings, so I better get moving.
In theory we should have these meetings at the arena, but since we’re all Gammas, the house is way more convenient and we can have beer.
Of course Topher suggested it because it’s his way to retain control of the team despite not being team captain.
“Oh, Jagger. You scared me.”
To my surprise, the noise outside my door wasn’t one of my teammates going downstairs. I find myself face to face with Bay. “Hey.” I greet her, taking in her Zeta Theta Beta pink hoodie and a pair of skintight black leggings that highlight her shapely legs and toned thighs.
Her blonde hair is in her trademark high ponytail but rather than the full face of makeup I’m used to seeing her in, today Bay is wearing just a lightly tinted lip gloss.
She’s stunning, no matter what she wears.
“I just went downstairs to get a soda,” she says, eying the can of Diet Coke in her hand. “I didn’t expect to see everyone in the living room. What’s going on? ”
“Team meeting,” I inform her. “We have them here, it’s easier.”
She pulls on the blonde hair of her ponytail and I can’t help but track the movement. My fingers twitch at the memory of how silky that same ponytail felt when I kissed her and my hand was cupping her head.
“I see,” she looks relieved. “Glad it’s not a meeting about unwanted roommates.”
Her laugh is meant to be self-deprecating, but she looks nervous.
“I see no unwanted roommates,” I catch myself winking at her.
Why the fuck did I do that? I usually wink at girls when I’m flirting and it’s not like… shit. I am flirting with Bay Woods.
“I don’t know about that,” she blinks a couple of times and I notice that even without mascara, her eyelashes are really long. “Topher made it more than clear that giving me his room wasn’t his idea.”
She blinks again and the thought hits me that maybe she’s flirting too?
God, I fucking hope so.
Since we kissed Saturday night, I’ve been replaying that kiss in my head pretty much constantly.
Not only when I jerked off, which would be normal. No, I’ve been thinking about Bay’s lips, her subtle, sexy scent, her soft body and how she tasted. She tasted sweet and minty and fucking delicious. Usually it takes way more than one kiss to make such an impression on me but fuck me, that must have been the best kiss I’ve ever had. I hadn’t been daydreaming about a simple kiss since my very first kiss in middle school.
“Believe me, Bay,” I reassure her. “You’re more than welcome here. Besides, the Dean assigned the Zetas to new housing, so Topher will have to deal, whether he likes it or not. It only made sense for you to have your own bathroom, so giving you his room was a no brainer.”
“Thank you,” she says, touching my bicep for a second. “That means a lot. I’ll leave you to your meeting, Topher hates tardiness.”
A jolt of tingles hits me at the contact and I nod like a complete dumb ass, rather than saying anything. I guess it’s better to keep my mouth shut than to say something lame, but still.
Bay turns around, headed back to her room.
I want to think that the reason my dick stirs in my jeans is that her ass looks spectacular in those leggings, because it does.
The alternative, that I got a semi because she touched my arm is way too pathetic to even consider.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t hooked up with anyone since last weekend. I think I should fix that, but the idea of a hookup doesn’t spark the usual excitement. Not when even thinking about hooking up, the first thing that comes to my mind is that fucking kiss.
I make my way downstairs with the memory of Bay’s soft lips still occupying my mind in an endless loop.
If you asked me what my teammates are talking about, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. All I can think about is those blue eyes, that petite and yet luscious body. Bay isn’t fat by any means, but she has curves in all the right places.
Fuck, even her voice is sexy as fuck. How had I missed that before?
An elbow to my stomach brings me back to reality.
“Ouch,” I glare at Cole. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Jugs?” Topher asks, using the nickname I absolutely hate. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for the past two minutes but you were someplace else.”
Fuck, right. The stupid team meeting. “What’s up?” I try to sound normal .
“Your captain asked you a question,” Topher bites out, pointing toward Cole. “We were talking about our good luck traditions.”
Oh. “Sure, what about them?”
Topher rolls his eyes, while Cole’s look is nothing but quizzical.
“Dude, you ok?” he whispers.
I nod sheepishly. “Peachy.” I answer, because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever admit to anyone that one kiss has me daydreaming like a love struck teen girl.
“We were saying,” Cole takes mercy on me and brings me up to speed with what I missed. “That our good luck rituals are very important. We stuck to each one last year and we won the championship.”
Cole has a point.
“So we were just checking to make sure that everything is under control, because we’re the defending champions and a few of us are graduating this year, so we want to go down in the records as two time Frozen Four winners.” Topher adds, always eager to fight Cole for control of the meeting.
Cole glares at our frat president and checks off our good luck rituals one by one. “I have my lucky stick all ready to go, Tucker has his lucky underwear in his locker,” he says with a twist of his nose.
“Yeah,” Corey chuckles. “I’m sure by now the entire school can smell Tucker’s vintage sweaty balls.”
I’m about to laugh but Tucker flips Corey off in defense of his lucky charm. “Fuck off, dude. We all know my lucky underwear has to remain unwashed to bring us luck.”
Ryker raises his hand, as if this was a class. “Unwashed?”
“You bet your ass on that,” Tucker slaps him on the back. “Two years ago I made my debut on Cove Knight’s ice when our starting goalie Cash injured himself during a game. I had been too busy to do my laundry because of midterms and that day I turned up at the hockey arena in an old pair of underwear with a weak waistband. That shit kept falling off when I walked and by the time we started getting ready, I was considering going commando rather than suffering through those sliding boxers. Even if I didn’t think I’d see any ice time, I couldn’t warm up and do my stretches if I had to pull up my underwear every five seconds. Luckily the week before, I had forgotten my favorite boxer briefs in my locker. They hadn’t been washed but I thought, fuck it. Unwashed boxers beat sliding boxers.”
Ryker looks unimpressed. “Ok, so?”
Tucker’s ear splitting grin is funny. “So I put on the unwashed pair and I got lucky. First off, I got to play?—”
“Your starter goalie getting injured doesn’t sound like luck to me.” Ryker objects.
“Wait for it,” Tucker continues. “We were playing Bridgeport U. Their team was unbeatable that year, they went on to win our conference and lost to Yale in the final. Do you know which team was the only one to get a W against Bridgeport that year?”
From bored, Ryker’s expression turns interested. “Our team?”
Tucker punches his own palm. “Bingo. My debut was the stuff of motherfucking legend. Total shutout. And fuck knows Bridgeport tried hard.”
Cole agrees. “It was like our goal was untouchable. And when they did shoot? Tucker was an impenetrable wall.”
“Sure,” Ryker argues. “But how do you know that it was because your underwear was unwashed? It might have been that pair that was lucky regardless.”
Topher intervenes. “We tested that theory. Tucker washed the underwear the week after and we lost. So we tried it out and we had to conclude that those boxer briefs were lucky as long as they weren’t washed.”
“Last season,” Tucker beams proudly. “I didn’t wash them at all and lo and behold, we had a record smashing season. I of course haven’t washed my lucky boxers at all, so they’re ready and charged with all of last year’s good juju.”
Ryker’s eyes widened in surprise. “ That’s the foul smell that wafts out of your locker every time you open it?”
Tucker smiles as if Ryker had paid him a compliment. “That’s the aroma of one full year of good luck, my friend. One of our tried and true weapons.”
“More like a fucking biological weapon,” Ryker sounds disgusted. “I’d be worried about my balls falling off if they touched that level of unwashed fabric.”
This is when finally Tucker takes offense. “It’s a small price to pay to stay undefeated.”
“I’m starting to think that’s why I was given the locker next to yours, huh?” Ryker sighs.
Topher’s gloating smile speaks volumes about how he feels about Ryker’s arrival.
He can use his father’s influence to force Coach’s hand into lifting his suspension, but not even God could give him the starting spot when we have Ryker Moore on our roster.
“Anyway,” Cole addresses me again. “Tucker is ready, Bay has agreed to make her good luck chili after every home game. It’s gonna be even easier now that she lives here.”
Topher interrupts our captain again. “We’re all squared away with our good luck shit. Can we trust that you chose the lucky bunny who gets to blow you before the first game of the season?”
This would probably be the time to tell them that, aside from the ridiculous bunny strike called by Ashley—sorry, I mean Candace—this year I’m really not feeling it.
I’m about to utter the words but a look at my teammates’ hopeful expressions around the room causes the words to get stuck in my throat.
I offer a confident nod, even though I feel anything but.
The expression “taking one for the team” has never rang truer as I resolve to get this over and done with .
Maybe getting busy with another girl will help me snap out of this weird Bay-induced daze.
With my mind made up, I take out my phone to text some of my favorite bunnies.
I keep telling myself that the kiss was just a fluke, I don’t owe Bay Woods anything.
Then why do I feel as if I were betraying her when I’m done sending those texts?
Why, as I try to psych myself out for a good luck bj, the image in my head is Bay’s soft lips wrapped around my cock?
BAY
The good news is that I haven’t bumped into Topher much since our confrontation on my first night in the Gamma house.
Despite staying in his room, I have barely thought about my ex.
The bad news is that my thoughts have been consumed by the guy who occupies the room next to mine.
If the fact that Jagger Connelly is a hockey player wasn’t already a betrayal of my own resolution to stay away from dating and especially from dating hockey players, the fact that I can’t stop thinking about Jagger is even worse.
If Cole is known as a fuckboy all over campus, Jagger is an even bigger player than his best friend, if that was even possible.
I don’t need a relationship to get in the way of my goals this year, and least of all I don’t need to crush on a guy who changes women more often than I change my underwear.
I keep telling myself that every time his golden colored eyes come to my mind while I’m trying to do my homework.
Every time I remember how soft and yet firm his lips felt against mine whenever I hear any noises coming from the room right next door.
The skilled way he explored my mouth, hot and demanding and yet playful.
How good he smelled and tasted, how solid his tall, muscular body felt against mine.
Jagger is about three or four inches taller than Topher and he must have a good thirty pounds on my ex.
Topher isn’t small but he’s on the smaller side when you look at the typical hockey player.
Who knew that I seem to like my men huge and muscular?
And with impossibly soft lips and big hands to cradle my head as they deepen the hottest kiss I’ve ever experienced?
Stop Bay, for fuck’s sake.
I keep tossing and turning in bed as images of Jagger and his sexy mouth assault me every time I close my eyes.
Thinking about that kiss almost takes the sting away from the fact that it happened because Cole was horrified at the thought of kissing me.
No, no. I’m not thinking about how my BFF finds me physically repulsive.
The memory of that kiss is a much healthier outlet for my pent up energy but dammit, it’s keeping me awake.
Those soft, soft lips… I flip onto my stomach.
Hmm the way he nipped at my lips was so sexy… I flip back onto my back when my nipples harden to the point that they ache.
The same way they hardened yesterday when I bumped into Jagger in the hallway and he winked at me.
Oh God.
I rub my thighs together to relieve the ache that makes me pulse, desperate for attention.
I know what you’re all thinking .
That I should take care of myself, take the edge off. Believe me, I tried last night and… nothing.
If anything, touching myself made it worse. I even used one of the countless vibrators I bought in the hopes of reaching that elusive “big O” but the thing ran out of juice leaving me sore and more desperate than before.
I feel like such a fraud. I project this sex positive image and I can’t even get myself off.
Maybe that’s why Topher cheated?
No, I refuse to justify him for being a cheating a-hole. I did everything he wanted in bed, I always made sure he was satisfied. And I don’t think he even realizes that I never orgasmed, because I faked it every single time after I realized that it was never gonna happen for me.
Maybe I should have pursued a career in cinema, because I’ll tell you what, I’d give Jennifer Lawrence a run for her money. Or Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally , that old movie that’s my mom’s favorite.
I should try to sleep, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I prepped most of the stuff for the chili for the team; but between a schedule packed with classes and the game at night, I’ll need all my beauty sleep.
Come on Bay, close your eyes, even out your breath and…
His soft, soft lips.
His big, slightly rough hands.
The way his tongue curled around mine.
Dammit.
I can’t sleep and now I’m parched.
A glass of water, that’s what I need. Then I’ll go to sleep.
I get out of bed and tiptoe my way down the stairs in the dark, quiet Gamma house.
At least the guys are getting their much needed rest, I think as I enter the kitchen.
I keep my favorite sparkling water in the fridge. There’s nothing more refreshing than cold, bubbly water when you toss and turn in bed, feeling slightly sweaty.
I stand in front of the open fridge, taking two long sips of my water. Hmm that’s so good. The bubbles make my lips tingle pleasantly, almost like the touch of Jagger’s lips.
As I picture his golden eyes for the umpteenth time since that kiss, someone clears their throat behind me.
“Hey,” Jagger’s soft whisper reaches me. “I wanted to make sure you knew I was here, I didn’t want to scare you.”
“I appreciate that, thank you.” I turn around and drink him in.
He has no business looking so sexy with his dark blond hair mussed and in a pair of loose boxers that hang low on his hips showing a hint of that delicious carved V.
Of course with my rotten luck as of late, he’d be shirtless.
“You ok?” He asks running a hand through his hair with the only result of looking even sexier if possible.
“I couldn’t sleep and then I got thirsty,” I say, lifting my bottle of water as evidence that I wasn’t lurking here hoping to bump into him.
I mean, I wasn’t but I’m so flustered in the dark kitchen that I can’t think straight.
His eyes look dark and mysterious in the dim lighting offered by the lights under the cabinets. “That water’s really nice. My mom and my sister drink it all the time. My dad makes fun of me because I like it and he thinks it’s too girly. Maybe because it’s French, who knows?”
My feet carry me in front of Jagger without me even realizing it. “Would you like some?” I offer him my bottle rather than going to the fridge to get him a new one.
He takes it from me and there it is. That spark of tingles that makes my nipples harden and the space between my legs throb with need.
“Thanks, I came here because I was thirsty too. ”
I watch mesmerized as his throat works when he swallows a few sips of my water.
Jagger’s neck is thick, the corded muscles in his shoulders and arms moving as he drinks.
“That was just what I needed. Thank you, Bay.”
My heart picks up its pace and I take the bottle back from him, not because I want it, but because I want to touch his fingers again.
The second my skin comes into contact with his, my body reacts with a wave of heat. Our chests are suddenly almost touching. I don’t know who stepped closer, if me or him, but it doesn’t matter. I wish I wasn’t wearing my thin night camisole, so I could feel his warm skin against mine.
Our eyes are locked and Jagger’s fingers are tracing the edge of my jaw, like they did right before he kissed me.
“How has the first week of your senior year been?” he asks, his voice low and soft. “Are you settling in ok in this madhouse?”
My week would improve tenfold if he kissed me again, but I don’t say that. “I’m ok, everything considered. Here’s fine, thanks to you and Cole.”
The corners of his upper lip lift in a barely there smile, his gaze smoldering. “Good. Anyone gives you trouble, let me know. We can be a bunch of rowdy assholes if left to our own devices.”
“Thank you,” my voice is breathless, I’m dying to feel his lips on mine again. I even consider pushing on the tips of my toes and just taking what I want, but I’m too chicken.
Daydreaming about our kiss has made my week more bearable and if he rejected me now, it would taint that memory for me.
There’s a beat of charged silence, the air in the dim lit kitchen is crackling with electricity.
“I don’t know about you, but I have an early morning skate tomorrow, before the game. I should go back to bed.” He says.
I have homework and social media stuff to do tomorrow morning too, but I’d rather stay here, smashed against Jagger’s perfect chest. I don’t say that.
“Yeah, me too. I have tons to do and I need to make sure the chili is going so we can celebrate your first victory.”
A slight frown appears on his forehead, but it’s just fleeting.
Come on Jagger, kiss me.
He doesn’t kiss me. We just keep staring at each other, his hand still cupping my face, as if time was frozen.
“Good night, Bay.”
He lowers his head and kisses me… on the forehead.
I suppress a groan of frustration. My nana kisses me on the forehead, that’s all you need to know.
“Good night, Jagger. You can have the rest of my water, if you want.” I offer him the dark green bottle and he takes it. Our fingers don’t brush this time and maybe it’s for the best.
As I walk away, I think that I need to get my shit under control. Being disappointed because he didn’t kiss me is foolish and hypocritical at the same time.
I said no more hockey players and I should damn well stick to my resolution.