New Story!!

As promised, I won't make you wait to start reading my new story and for those of you who wanted to pound Sid in the head in this story, I think you'll be much more pleased with our boy in this new story, so follow me over to this new story:

http://boysofsummerhockey.blogspot.com/

Chapter 41

wow...I'm flattered & just a little scared by how vehement some of the opinions are about how this story should turn out...oh well, I'm just going to have to go with my gut and hope you're okay with it.

Not that this is the last chapter...just saying


“Her boobs aren’t big enough,” I grumble, holding the fabric up with one hand and reaching over to the table with the other, blindly feeling for the double sided tape.

“I’m right here,” the very pretty but very skinny model snipes at me and I afford her one, quick, disgusted glance.

“You’re a clothes hanger and clothes hangers don’t have opinions,” I snap, tearing off a piece of tape and pressing it down against her skin a little harder than is strictly necessary. She opens her mouth to make another smart remark no doubt but one more narrow look from me and she shuts her cherry stained lips and stares straight ahead like a good mannequin should. I press the fabric to the tape but the dress doesn’t look right. It just sits there on her flat chest, gaping in one spot and falling flat in another. “This looks like hell.”

“Mmmm, you’re right, her tits are way too small,” Kensie agrees, looking absolutely drop dead goth girl sexy in a streamlined black gauzy gown that shows off her subtle curves and makes her look about ten inches taller than she already is.

“Maybe we can trade, she might look okay in your dress,” I mutter, standing back to compare the two shapes but when I look up at Kensie’s face she’s wrinkling up her nose and as she stares at the younger, willowy model.

“She’d look like crap in this too,” Kennedy sighs, fingering the barely there fabric stretched over her hips. “She’d make it look like an empty garbage bag.”

“I’m right here,” the girl insists again but both of us shut her up with one of those ‘if looks could kill’ glances.

“You know that was made for you,” Kensie reminds me. “It fits you. Unless we can find a model with a sweet rack like yours….”

“You’ve been hanging out with Jordan too long,” I snort, shooting her a look that I know says ‘I appreciate the sentiment but really?’, before I start looking around at the other models all of whom are even taller, thinner and almost all of whom are lacking almost anything in the boob department. Curvier models are saved for commercial shoots, for FHM, Maxim and Stuff.

“You’ll have to wear it,” Gareth says, appearing from nowhere and tipping his head to one side, “unless you have another piece to put at the end of the show.” I wish I could say that I do but I don’t. I’ve been spending so much time in Pittsburgh that I have a lot of stuff on paper, but not a lot of pieces actually complete enough to put on a model.

“Me? Out there?” I can hear the sounds of the stage and runway being set up, the chairs being put out for tomorrow’s show and all I can think of is if I have to go out there I’m seriously going to need some time with Miss Jay.

“We could do something…we could have like a swing or something rigged to come down right at the front of the stage,” Gareth thinks out loud while he fusses with the bodice of the gown, trying, just as I’ve been doing, to make it fit the model’s boyish figure. “Maybe two swings…Ga Ga on the other….” That makes my stomach hurt. As if the idea of being out there in front of celebs and photographers isn’t bad enough, I’d almost forgotten about Gareth’s favorite new patron being involved.

“Or we could find another model,” I say, hopefully, looking from Kennedy to Gareth and hoping for some sign that they will agree.

“Kennedy’s right,” Gareth grins as he cups my cheek and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You made it for you, you’re going to have to wear it. We don’t have time to do any alterations on it. You’ve got enough to do tonight.” That was true. Almost every garment needed some finishing touches, an inch taken in there, a hem taken up there. Then there was the accessorizing…it was going to be a long night. “Besides, my muse, you outshine most of these girls, especially this one,” Gareth adds, grabbing both of my cheeks and planting a kiss on my forehead. “Now get this off of this girl and get her into something that fits and I’ll see you in the morning.” I stare after him, half filled with butterflies at being called his muse and half filled with dread at the thought of all that I still have left to do.

“C’mon, let’s get a move on,” Kensie sighs, turning so that I can yank her zipper down. “I’ll help as much as I can.”

“Thanks Kens, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now,” I sigh, signaling for the stick thin model to turn so I can undo the laces on the back of the gown.

“Yeah well, I hope you remember that when I want to go to the Bahamas next week with Jordy,” she reminds me and again, those butterflies wake in my stomach. Sidney had hinted at a honeymoon on the white sands of an exclusive resort somewhere sunny. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d still go, maybe with one of the guys, maybe with some other woman….

Shaking my head, I tell myself not to think about that now, or him for that matter.

Every time I start to my stomach started to hurt and my throat started to get tight. There was going to be plenty of time to feel sorry for myself later, after the show.

____________________________________________________________________

The room was quiet. Like, you could hear a pin drop quiet. It was almost worse than losing game seven to the Wings two years ago. That had been the quiet of everything being left out on the ice and not having the energy to say anything. This was the quiet of shock, of disbelief. We’d owned Montreal all year. Well three out of four games anyway. We didn’t think we could lose and yet, here we are.

The urge to point fingers is pretty high, except the first and foremost finger has to point at me. I’ve been telling myself that I’m trying hard but…but with only a few seconds off the clock I was already in the box and I couldn’t get my head on straight after that.

I could blame Mel. This whole thing with her giving me the ring back and then finding out that Max wants her…well it’s thrown me for a loop.

But I can’t. I can’t blame either one of them. I’ve been in a foul frame of mind and it’s my own fault. I knew I was trying to force a round peg into a square hole and I just kept trying to stuff it in there because there was something about having her here, supporting me, that I was looking forward to having for a long time.

“So, a whole summer for a change,” Jordy says quietly, half a smile on his face as if he’s expecting me to jump down his throat and pull his balls up through his throat. Under normal conditions after this kind of a loss, the guys know to leave me alone for a while. At least until I’ve talked myself down off the ledge. It’s pretty brave thing Jordy’s doing.

“Yeah, I guess,” I manage to which he nods and goes back to unlacing his skates. We have played a lot of hockey in the last couple of years. Not that we minded the last two summers being a little short. Not if it meant we were one of the best teams in the league. Actually the last two summers were a lot of fun.

I look across the room to find Max almost entirely out of his equipment already.

“You going straight up to New York?” I ask, causing Max to pause, half way out of his shoulder pads. He glances over at me, wary, like he’s expecting me to go tell him I’ve changed my mind about giving him permission to date Mel. Not that there would be any point, apart from warning her away from him and that thought has crossed my mind, more than once.

“I am,” he says quietly, dropping his shoulder pads into his bag, like he’s not expecting to come back here.

“You gonna ask for a trade?” I ask, staring at his bag. No one else has their bag out. Everyone else will be back in a day or two to clean out their lockers her in the Mellon in a day or two. It doesn’t look like Max is planning on joining us for that particular ritual.

“Thinking about it,” he mumbles, glancing over at Kris and Flower who both stop what they’re doing and stare at him. “Ne me regardes pas comme un traître. What would you do?”

“Tu ne sais pas même ce qu’elle dira,” Tanger points out and Flower gives him that look that says ‘yeah, what about that?’ and Max shrugs.

“Tu pense que je pourrais rester ici et jeu avec lui?” he asks, an accusatory tone leaking into his voice as he points at me.

“I just gave you permission to ask her out,” I point out but the look Max gives me tells me this isn’t just about that.

“Tu la penses qu’elle voudrait tu voir? Chaque jour?” I think about not seeing her, maybe never seeing her again and my there’s a pain, deep in my chest. Not that I’d blame her for not wanting to see me. Not that I could blame him for wanting to steal her away and keep her all to himself. And yet….

“Why don’t you let her decide that?” I ask, hoping Mel might remember that above everything else, that we’ve been friends for a really long time. “If she wants you that is,” I add, unable to stop myself from planting that seed of doubt. I just can’t picture her with him.

“I’d never presume to make decisions for her,” Max snarls, shaking his head. “J’ai le respect pour elle,” he continues, “àla différence de vous.”

“I’ve been her friend forever,” I remind him to which he continues to shake his head.

“Some friend,” Max laughs sarcastically and I find myself on my feet, my hands curled into fists.

“Ralentissement mes amis,” Flower jumps in between us and suddenly that silence is back and the only thing I can hear is the sound of my own blood pulsating through my veins as I stare at Max, willing him to take the first shot so that I can take out all of my frustrations on him, so that even if he does go to her, he’ll be black and blue and I don’t care if that makes him sympathetic. Right now I don’t care about that. I only care about putting my fist through his self satisfied face.

“Tu as raison Flower. He’s not worth it. I have a woman to woo,” he grins at me, showing every one of his teeth, like a threat. “Have fun explaining to the press why you’ll be spending the summer tous par tu-même, mon capitaine,” he adds, reaching out to give my cheek a tap, but I push his hand away. “You don’t want to toss me those tickets to the Maldives do you mon capitaine? After all, you won’t be needing them,” he adds, grinning wide, like a fucking retarded jack o lantern.

“Max, please” Jordy pleads, pushing my sometimes wing-mate towards the showers. “You might still be teammates next year. Don’t make this worse. C’mon, let’s just get ready and get out of here.”

“You’re going with him?” I feel like adding et tu Bruté and reeling backward as if I’ve been stabbed but I decide there seems to be enough theatrics right now.

“Kennedy’s in Mel’s show, they’re expecting us,” Jordy explains apologetically, shrugging his big shoulders as if that is all that needs saying.

“They’re expecting you? Mel’s expecting him?” I point at the furry Frenchman and then look up at the big blonde forward whose blue eyes are a little too wide.

“Well…I mean, no not exactly. I mean…I’m sure she won’t be surprised…I mean…I mean…,” the big farm boy looks around for help and that hush falls over the room again and all of a sudden I get that prickly feeling at the back of my neck telling me that I’m missing something, something that should be obvious, after all, everyone else in the room seems to know.

“What do you mean Gronk? Tell me…I’m curious. Why would Mel be expecting Max?”

“They’re friends,” Tanger reminds me, and, having taken a deep breath, I decide I can accept that argument and decide to drop it in the name of team unity.

“And she knows I’ve been waiting for you to screw up and now that you have…I intend…,” Max’s voice trails away and then he shrugs and just shakes his head.

“What? What do you intend to do Max? Go on, tell me? I’m dying of curiosity now,” I call to him as he turns to head into the showers. “And what do you mean she’s been waiting? What the fuck does that even mean? Mel’s so in love with me….”

“Yeah, so in love with you she’s spent two night in my bed,” Max snarls, whirling on me and crossing the room in two strides to push me off of my feet and onto my ass.

There it is, that silence again. This time I know that everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for me to get up to my feet and shove my fist down his throat. The funny thing is, even though I’m angry, blood boiling angry, I don’t feel like hitting him. I actually feel kind of relieved. I actually feel like I’ve been holding my breath and all of a sudden I’ve come up to the surface of a deep pool and I can actually pull oxygen into my lungs again.

“You…you slept with Mel?” I almost laugh as I climb to my feet and brush myself off and it actually requires a certain amount of willpower not to. Max stands there, staring back at me with an expression on his face that speaks volumes about how much he would like to take back what he’s just said but I can also see that he’s too proud to. “You stood there and lectured me about Charline, and you were sleeping with my fiancée the whole time?”

“You keep calling her that mais tu ne l’aimes pas meme! You starved her of affection. Her eyes dance when you come in a room mais tu l’incites à se sentir comme elle n’est pas mériter de ton temps! Don’t you dare stand there and try to make this something ugly, quelque chose sordid. Je l’aime avec chaque fibre simple de mon être, something you could never understand.” I’ve rarely seen Max quite this passionate about anything or anyone. The usually laid backed, jovial, goofy man I’ve known for years is staring daggers at me. Even when he fought Carcillo, I never saw murder in his eyes.

“Jesus Christ Max…have you felt like this the whole time?” I watch as a bright pink stain creeps up from beneath his collar and finally makes its way to the tips of his ears. “Fuck…you have haven’t you? Fuck man, why didn’t you just say something?”

“Because…because she’s in love with you! Because I was trying to be your friend. Because I wanted her to be happy, quelque chose que tu pourriez avoir pensé pour essayer.” It’s like being stabbed with a knife and not in my back and not exactly in my heart either. More like in my conscience. Suddenly it’s impossible to look at him, to meet his gaze or anyone else’s. “Oui, tu as été un piqûre égoiste. Time to grow up and stop trading on the fucking pure as hell image you think everyone fucking buys into,” Max snarls, brushing past me, heading into the showers.

It’s only then that the normal sort of buzz of activity begins again and leaves me standing there in the middle of the room, staring at my feet, wondering just what kind of asshole I’ve actually turned into.
_________________________________________________________________


“Still up?” Kensie asks, yawning and stretching as she appears around the corner wearing a faded grey t-shirt that I’m guessing probably belonged to Jordan once upon a time. It’s long and miles too big for her, nearly reaching her knees.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got a couple more little pieces to fix,” I smile gratefully up at her as she leans on the edge of the sewing table. “Thanks for staying here,” I add, glancing briefly at the cot in the corner of Gareth’s studio where she’s been curled since about two in the morning. “I couldn’t stand the thought of being here all night by myself.”

“Hey, what are friends for. Speaking of which, how long are you gonna keep wearing that?” she asks, picking up a pair of shears and using it to point at the Claddagh ring on my hand. I stare down at it, holding my hand out like it’s not really a part of me, which at almost five in the morning isn’t that much of a stretch. I’ve been sewing, half asleep, for hours. I have so many pin pricks and needle jabs I could pass for a junkie.

“I dunno,” I answer honestly. “I haven’t really thought about it,” which is a lie. I have. I just keep hoping that somehow…some way we can salvage something from this mess, and not even necessarily anything like the girlhood dream I’ve now come to terms with doing without. Just…friends. “I’d settle for friends now,” I shrug, looking up at Kensie, expecting her to give me one of those sort of big sister disappointed looks. Maybe it’s because she’s tired or I am, but she smiles and reaches forward to muss my hair.

“He’s crazy if he doesn’t at least value you that much,” she adds, moving to pry my fingers off of the piece I’m finishing, putting it and the needle in my hand down on the table. “I’m not as good at this as you but I think I can manage a hem. You need to get some sleep or you’ll have to have as much make up on as GaGa when you go out on that runway this afternoon.” I start to reach for the piece but when I look down at my hands and see them shaking, I give in and let her lead me to the cot. “Oh and by the way, just so you don’t flip out if you happen to see him skulking around tomorrow, Jordan’s coming,” she adds as I try and stifle a yawn.

“Jordy? But aren’t they…?”

“They lost tonight. Man you really haven’t paid any attention have you?” she smiles as she pulls the blanket up over me.

“I’ve been making a concerted effort not to,” I sigh, closing my eyes. “I can’t believe they lost to the Habs…Sidney must be…,” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying it. I have to stop thinking about him all the time. What would Sidney do? Like some kind of mantra that he’s not really deserving of. “I wonder if Jordy will bring Tanger or any of the guys?” I wonder aloud, as sleep pulls me down into through the haze and into the deep darkness of sleep.

Chapter 37

This chapter kicked my ass, so thanks for your patience. Must have something to do with the Nucks and the Pens both losing...


“How long has that been going on?” I turn from watching Charline and a couple of her other teammates heading down the corridor under Mellon to find Max and Jordan standing behind me, watching me with obvious disapproval.

“Oh don’t go all Mother Goose on me. Half the guys on the team are married and every one of them has some girl in one city or another…,” I begin but Jordan just shakes his head at me and turns away, so I look to Max for corroboration and he just keeps staring at me like I’ve stolen his damn teddy bear. “What? Oh c’mon Max. You’ll fuck anything that moves. Are you going to seriously stand there and tell you wouldn’t hit that?” I ask, pointing at the girls’ retreating forms.

“We’re not…je ne parle pas de moi,” Max breathes, grabbing me by my collar and pushing me out of the way of the trainers as they load our equipment into the shipping containers that will follow us to Montreal. “Look, if you were looking for some…I don’t know…wiggle room,” he sighs, pushing a rolled up newspaper into my hand, “you should have thought of that before you did this.” I unroll the paper, already knowing what I’m going to find and stare down at the nearly half page announcement; so much for a tasteful and trivial mention. “You didn’t even do it properly,” he grimaces, snatching the paper back from me. “Cette image ne ressemble pas la même fille.”

“Okay now you’re just letting your best man duties get the better of you. You’re supposed to be supporting me,” I remind him, feeling like I should be getting a high five, not some kind of lecture on ethics and dating from Professor crabs.

“This is you…and you’re supposed to be above that kind of shit.” He insists, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes like he’s trying to do some kind of Vulcan mind meld.

“Says who?” I laugh, pushing his hands away from my shoulders.

“Says me,” Max snarls indignantly. “You’re supposed to be better than that. You’re supposed to be the good guy, the guy we all try and fucking emulate,” he continues, rambling on like some kind of deranged lunatic, gesturing wildly and then finally running his hands through his short, cropped hair.

“I didn’t sign up for that. I never asked anyone to appoint me a god damned saint,” I tell him, shrugging. “Is this because you’ve gotten close to Mel?” I ask him and he shifts uncomfortably, shuffling his feet as he looks away from me. “Look I get it. It’s kind of…. No, it is bad, I get that but if she wasn’t so damn vanilla in bed,” I begin trying to explain my side of things only to have Max turn back to me, staring at me, wild eyed.

“Vanilla? You must be fucking joking,” Max hisses at me, and for just one minute, I think he’s going to say more and then he looks away. “What I mean is…I mean the way she talks I just thought….”

“I didn’t say she was bad, exactly, she’ just not…I don’t know, it’s not great is what I’m saying. So I have one last fling and get it out of my system, it’s not like it’s something you wouldn’t do,” I point out to him, fully expecting him to give me one of those barely there shrugs that would signal that he didn’t have a comeback. Instead, he shakes his head and glares at me.

“She’s your god damned fiancée,” he reminds me, managing to look both threatening and disappointed at the same time. “You’re about to promise to have and to hold and all that….”

“Yeah about to,” I remind him, taking a step back from my usually easy going friend who keeps looking at me like I’ve just kicked his damn puppy. “Damn Max. I never thought I’d be getting this lecture from you. Papa G yeah but…,” I begin but when Max gives that heavy sigh and drags his fingers through his hair I let my words die away until he looks back up at me.

“I just thought…fuck man! You’re like my hero, d’accord? And I know, I haven’t always treated women...avec autant respect que je pourrais avoir, mais…mais je sais que tu n’as pas voulu un rapport avec une femme célibataire, mais…I just always thought when you did, quand le bon moment est venu, that you would be the guy who’d do la bonne chose, be the Prince Charming, que ton serait la fin hereuse de conte de fées and we’d all look up to you and we’d know…we’d have something to…pour aspirer à,” he explains, falling into Frenglish as he grabs me by the shoulders and literally shakes me.

“So now you’re disappointed in me? I’ve got news for you mon ami, I’m a fucking human being. I don’t want to be your role model. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model or Prince Charming or what the fuck ever. I just want to live my fucking life,” I snap back, pushing him away and for just one moment, I think Max is going to lose it and I’m going to get one in the chops, but he takes a deep breath instead and hangs his head.

“What about her? What about being her Prince?” he asks, his gaze meeting mine slowly, the anger that seemed to dissipate while he lectured me begins leaking back.

“I am her Prince,” I shrug. “Whether I deserve to be…I don’t know Max. I’m just a guy. I’m not better than you or Tanger or Dupes. I am what I am. Mel…she knows that. Maybe you don’t think she does but she’s a pretty smart cookie. I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” I tell him but I can see he’s far from being convinced.

“So you’ll tell her then? Dires-lui au sujet de ton affaire?”

“Affair? Max…seriously, you’re blowing shit way out of proportion,” I laugh, patting his shoulder and turning away. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and it’s a one off, I tell myself, and Max won’t tell her either.

Nah…he won’t, bros before ho’s and all that. Max may be a lot of things, including, obviously a way too emotional Frenchman, but he’s no snitch. There’s a code on a team and I’ve always kept my mouth shut when it came to things even I wouldn’t take part in. It does make me rethink the whole best man thing though.

He does have a point, sort of, I think as I walk away, putting some space between his disapproving glare and the burgeoning feeling of guilt sitting in the pit of my stomach. I am about to say those vows, it might actually be time to start thinking about living with that reality. After all, he is right about one thing. If I was going to have cold feet about it, announcing it in the Pittsburgh Tribune was probably not the right thing to do.

Not that I’ve thought about calling it off. I mean, it’s seemed pretty inevitable since we met up again that this was the direction it was going to go, and it’s not like I don’t want to get married it’s just…funny how I can’t close my eyes and imagine myself, standing there in a tux and her in a white dress. For some reason I can’t wrap my head around that idea.

Maybe it’s like winning The Cup. You can imagine it but you can’t, not really, not until you’re holding it.

That must be what it is, I decide as I head out towards the bus. That and we’re not really doing our own planning so it’s all going to be kind of a surprise anyway. If I knew what it was all going to look like maybe that would help.

Or not.

Either way, all I can and should be thinking about now is Montreal and stuffing some pucks past Halak and I know from the Olympics that that is going to be no easy task. I’ll just have to leave that kind of thinking for some other time.

______________________________________________________________

“I’m going to do it,” I announce as I bounce through the door to the apartment. “I’m going to ask Sid to call off the wedding…for now,” I add as I round the corner to find Kensie at the kitchen table staring intently at her lap top.

“Well that should make things interesting,” she replies dryly.

“I think he’ll understand. I mean we shouldn’t rush into anything right? I mean I know I’ve known him forever but we’re just getting to know each other properly and there’s no need to rush into anything,” I continue, feeling confident in the decision I’ve come to. That is until I actually look at the way Kennedy is looking up at me over her lap top with that ‘are you quite done’ look on her face complete with raised eyebrow and impatient gaze.

“While god only knows that I agree about the whole putting the brakes on this circus, but when I said that should be interesting, I meant because of this,” she sighs, turning her lap top to face me. The confident, self assured smile I’d been wearing since my dad had put me on the plane with the promise to be strong is wiped completely an entirely off of my face.

“How…when did this happen?” I ask, my knees giving way beneath me, the air literally being sucked out of my sails as I drop into the chair beside her. I stare at the screen, half of me wishing that I haven’t just seen what I know I’ve seen, but then wishing doesn’t make it so. “I didn’t…he didn’t tell me he was going to announce anything,” I add in a half whisper.

“Yeah, I wondered about that,” Kensie turns the lap top back around, and, with a few strokes of her fingers pulls up yet another engagement announcement, this time in the New York Times, with a picture.

“Oh god…” I cover my mouth with my hand as I stare at the picture of us I knew his mother had taken of us at Christmas.

“I know, very deer in the headlights,” Kennedy muses sardonically as she gets up to look at the pic over my shoulder. “You’d think he could have waited to have something more formal done. It’s not like the Pens don’t have a professional photog on staff,” she adds, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze before heading deeper into the kitchen to grab two mugs and a box of tea bags.

“I just can’t understand,” I mumble, half to myself. “Why would he go and do something like this without talking to me first?”

“At least give a girl a heads up that she’s gonna be in the New York Times. He had to have done that knowing you work here and like, everyone in Manhattan reads the society pages,” she adds, which does nothing to improve my current state of mind. “So, like I said,” she begins, having turned the electric kettle on and turning to lean her back against the counter, arms crossed, “that kind of complicates your plan.”

“Just a little,” I manage to breathe, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Suddenly the sandwich I’d had on the plane isn’t sitting too well in my stomach.

“So what are you going to do now?” Kensie asks, tipping her head to one side so that her hair falls over her shoulder. “Because this doesn’t mean that you can’t call it off you know,” she adds, and I nod, hearing her but somehow I can’t quite imagine actually doing it now, even though I had it all planned out in my head how that was going to go. “On the other hand, and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” she adds with a half smile, “this might mean that he’s actually taking this seriously. I mean this might be his big romantic gesture ‘cuz god knows he hasn’t really held up his end on that score yet.” I look up at her and I can tell by the way she immediately rolls her eyes that the sudden and overwhelming feeling of relief flooding my body shows on my face. “I said might be” she adds with a smirk as the kettle begins to whistle and she turns to pour the steaming water into the two cups, adding a fragrant tea bag to each before turning around and coming back to join me at the table. “Have you even talked to him?” she asks, pushing one mug towards me.

“Yeah…I mean…well as much as you can talk to him during the playoffs. It’s mostly that refs an asshole and that player is a dick and Geno should get his head out of ass and…so yeah we’ve spoken but talked…?” I shrug, closing my eyes and inhaling the steam coming from the mug, peppermint and green tea, an excellent remedy for the pounding headache behind my eyes.

“You should go see him,” Kennedy says, not like it’s a suggestion, but like it’s an order.

“I don’t want to distract him,” I begin, but hearing the whine in my own voice, I square my shoulders and take a deep, cleansing breath. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“You should,” Kennedy grins, reaching over to grasp my hand and give me an encouraging smile.

“Yeah…I should.”

____________________________________________________________

“GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING SHIT!!!”

“My sentiments exactement,” I grumble, tossing my stick aside as we head down the hallway at La Colisée after literally dropping an egg on the fucking ice. Tanger kicks his helmet across the room and we all watch it hit the wall with a satisfying smack.

“Je suis si désolé Fleur,” he says, again, and again, Flower just shrugs. It’s not like he tried to kick the damn puck in the fucking net and we all know it, but most of us also know how it feels like you should have been able to do something, anything, to get the puck to go another direction.

“We’ll just have to kick their asses at home,” I offer, but there’s no uproarious ‘hell yeah’ of agreement. Not that I’m expecting one. It’s worse to lose when the crowd is that fucking loud and you had it in your god damned back pocket. At least the rest of the guys weren’t getting boo’d every time they touched the puck.

“Crosby, you’ve got a visitor.” I turn around, my jersey half off, to see Mel leaning in the doorway of the room, and I’m surprised to feel relieved and happy to see her. Dropping my jersey on the pile in the middle of the floor, I cross the room and grab her around the waist, lifting her off of her feet as I bury my head in her neck. She smells like strawberries and vanilla frosting.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, putting her down, searching her flushed face for signs of impending doom. “Is something wrong with your mom? Your dad?”

“No, I just…you’re not mad I’m here?” she says, like she expected that I would be, and searching in myself I know that I normally might have been a little pissed about her showing up unexpectedly, especially after losing like this, but I’m not.

“No, of course not,” I grin, brushing her cheek with my hand before leaning down to capture her lips with mine. She tastes like cinnamon.

“It was…it’s the engagement announcement,” she explains quietly, her lips brush my cheek. “It was kind of…unexpected,” she adds, reaching up to run her finger along my upper lip when I pull back from her.

“I know, I know, pathetic, you don’t have to tell me,” I sigh. I keep hoping, every year, that my playoff beard will get better. It doesn’t seem to.

“It’s cute,” she grins. “I’ve never seen it up close before,” she adds, her fingertip now running along my jawline where the denser, thicker stuff is growing. The itchy shit.

“I know it’s not like Max’s Sasquatch growth,” I point out as Max emerges from the showers already, a towel clutched around his mid section. He stops and stares and when I turn back, Mel’s cheeks are flushed again. “Hey, do you guys mind not getting naked in front of my fiancée?” I yell, grabbing her hand and pulling her out into the hallway. “Wait here. You’ll fly back with us right?”

“Yeah,” she smiles softly, her fingers lacing with mine. “If they’ll let me,” she adds, sending a sheepish glance towards Coach B who’s striding into the room with a dark look on his face, and I can’t say that I blame him. I’m probably in for it and I know I deserve it.

“They will, just…wait here,” I insist, putting my hands on her shoulders and searching her face. “This was a good surprise Mel. I don’t know what you did back home but…it’s good to see you.” With that I kiss her again, clasping her cheeks in my hands and rolling my tongue around hers’ before leaving her, surprisingly reluctantly to go in and take my beating as required.
____________________________________________________________________

With his head on my shoulder, Sid snores quietly, a blanket pulled up to his chin. Unlike most of the other guys, he doesn’t seem to need a sleep mask. In fact, the whole plane is almost silent except for the snores and other sounds of restless sleep. The only other people awake on the plane seem to be Disco Dan, who has been analyzing the game on his laptop, his stereo headphones on, and Max.

Ever since I saw him in the dressing room, his muscles gleaming with steaming water from the showers, it’s seemed like he’s been wanting to talk to me, to say something. Not that I think that’s a good idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s an entirely bad idea. Especially since all of the thoughts in my head, all of the prepared speeches I had for Sidney about respecting me and asking my opinion before he does things, went entirely out the window the moment my eyes fell on his round shoulders and made their way down to his goody trail on the flat plane of his stomach.

Even now, knowing that he’s right across the aisle, I can barely breathe. Watching the quick movement of his thumbs on his blackberry, texting or playing a game, I can’t tell, I’m too aware of what those fingers can do and how they can make me feel. And no matter how hard I try to concentrate on the words on the pages in front of me, I keep feeling his gaze, like a soft, warm touch, on my skin.

“Stop it,” I hiss, my gaze still riveted to the magazine in my hands although I’ve probably read the same ten sentences over and over and I still couldn’t tell you what it says.

“Arrêtes ce qui?” I turn to glare at him but now he seems engrossed in whatever is on his blackberry, looking calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just been staring at me.

“You know what,” I snarl back, turning the page of my magazine with a snap, giving myself a paper cut in the process.

“Cessez de vouloir vous avoir?” he asks, making it sound innocent when just saying it out loud makes my belly clench and my mouth go dry.

“Stop it Max…please,” I whimper, shutting my eyes against the vision of his naked torso moving over me that suddenly appears in my head.

“Ou tu veux dire que je devrais cesser de fantasmer au sujet de ton beau corps dans mon lit?” he asks, his voice low and rasping, just as it is when it’s full of need. “Because if that’s what you’re asking, ma petite, that will never happen, c’est impossible.”

“You have to,” I growl back. “I’m marrying him. Did you see the announcement?” I ask, staring at a picture of Liz Hurley in some eenie weenie bikini and I can’t decide if it’s her hip bones or the vision of Max’s that has me more furious.

“Oui, j’ai fait, mais, il ne tu aimes pas. He doesn’t move you like I do,” he growls, sounding like a jungle cat as he finally puts his blackberry aside and turns those deep emerald orbs of his towards me.

“He does…love me and…what do you mean he doesn’t move me?”I hiss, unable to drag my gaze away from his, knowing I should, that the longer I look the more my skin begins to warm and the harder it becomes to breathe.

“He told me, mon petit chat. He called you…maintenant, ce que était le mot qu’il employé? Ah oui, vanilla, he called you vanilla ma petite and if it’s one thing you have never been to me…,” his voice falls away as does his gaze, and I shudder at the relief of being released from his gaze. I’d almost begun to feel like I was about to go up in flames.

“You must…you have to have misunderstood.” My voice catches in my throat and comes out almost as a whisper. My heart had swelled to twice its size to have Sid happy to see me, to have called me vanilla….

“There was no misunderstanding ma petite, I assure you,” Max whispers, his voice thick and velvety as he reaches across the aisle to reach for my hand, but as his fingers brush mine, I feel Sid’s heavy body stirring and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes like a child.

“Fuck…I needed that. Are we almost home?” he asks, lifting the cover from the window to peer out at the night sky.

“Almost,” Max replies, his blackberry once again in his hand, his voice normal, as if nothing at all had happened. “Wheels down in twenty and then home to bed eh mon ami?” he grins, looking lecherously over at us, his thick eyebrows arched.

“Hot tub, then bed,” Sid answers, yawning , before once again snuggling up to me, wrapping his arms covetously around my waist. “Did I tell you what a good surprise this is?” he asks again, that boyish grin of his lighting up his crème caramel coloured eyes.

“You did,” I smile at him, my cheeks aching from smiling when I don’t feel like smiling at all.

Chapter 34

the things you people make me do...


“The piece de resistance?” Sidney repeats, linking his arm with mine as we walk down the darkened corridor. It’s hard to believe there will only be another few times of walking down this cement corridor with him.

“Yes, the last piece that goes down the runway. Usually it’s a wedding gown, but it doesn’t have to be,” I explain, still feeling that fluttering in my stomach as I think about it. “He says I have this natural sense of drama,” I add, thinking of the way Gareth had held his hands out and made this sort of explosive gesture followed by a sort of rain of petals with his fingers. I’d been entranced by his hands and the way it made me feel and I wasn’t over the excitement yet.

“So what are you going to do?” Sidney asks, actually sounding interested, which makes me feel even better. I can’t get the smile off of my face.

“Well the whole Fall storyline is leather and latex, black on black, very structured, so I’m thinking if do something that feels like those designs but in a completely different colour palette,” I explain as we walk through the doors into the dressing room, my brain wrapping itself around the idea of doing something very flowing and feminine and yet still futuristic like the rest of Gareth’s designs.

“You are trying to get yourself traded,” Tanger’s hurling a balled up sock at Max who knocks it away with an outstretched hand. His quick reflexes only remind me of the way his muscles stretch and flex underneath the tight under armor that he’s wearing and I find myself biting my lip as he bares his teeth at Kris. “Tu sais à qui elle appartient, faites tu pas?”

“Of course I do,” Max is growling back, looking like he does right before he puts someone into the boards. “Je ne suis pas stupide.”

“Then start acting like you’re not stupid. Move on. Get over this stupid obsession of yours,” Jordan hisses, turning to stare at us as we stopped inside the room, which then falls eerily silent.

Oh god, I think, here it comes. This is when they tell him. This is when Sidney finds out what I’ve done.

“I thought you told me you were going to stay away from Lauren?” Sidney is staring at Max in that ‘don’t make me injure you’ sort of way and I feel myself go very still beside him as I hold my breath and wait for one of the guys to pipe up and tell the truth, but they all just stare back at us, waiting for Sid to make a move.

“I should have known. When she left the other night. I should have known it was you,” he continues, and I wait for someone to flinch, to bat an eye, do something that will give it away, but they all just keep staring at us, silent.

“It wasn’t Max that left with her. I took Max home.” It’s Flower’s voice, from somewhere behind us and it should have made the entire room exhale, so why re we all still standing there, holding our collective breath?

“You don’t have to cover for…,” Max is staring at me as he says it, the look on his face telling me that he can’t lie anymore and I feel my knees start to go weak. He’s going to tell Sidney and then Sidney isn’t going to love me anymore and then what am I going to do?

“Alexei…It was Ponikarovsky,” Jordan pipes up, turning to watch the young Russian coming into the room with his wool overcoat, as if it isn’t early Spring and already warm outside. Maybe not warm to a Russian I think as he pauses, mid step, realizing that every head had turned and every pair of eyes was on him.

“What?” his gaze took in the whole room and his face blanched, which only made the colour of the love bite on his neck more livid.

“Mario’s daughter,” Sidney lets go of my arm and marches over to grab the young Russian’s lapels. I let out the breath I’ve holding and feel my knees buckle beneath me. I would have gone down to the floor if not for a pair of strong hands pulling me back up to my feet.

I stared into the deep twilight blue of Max’s eyes and blinked.

“I wasn’t with Lauren,” he says quietly, almost under his breath as he helps me sit down in Sid’s stall. He doesn’t let go of my arm though, as he stands over me, giving me that look that says ‘you have to believe me’. It shouldn’t matter, I knew that. If he was my friend, then it shouldn’t matter if he was getting a little sumthin’ if it was on offer, and I knew with Lauren that it probably was. It shouldn’t have mattered and yet it did. More than being afraid of Sidney finding out, the idea of Max with her….

“I believe you,” I reply, though there’s a voice in the back of my head that says ‘no you don’t’. “Not that it matters,” I add quickly, because it seems important to say it, to put it out there. “I mean, you’re both adults, no matter what Sidney might think, right?” I add, as if I’m trying to make small talk as I stare at the way the long line snug fitting shorts hug his thick thighs.

“I haven’t been with her, or anyone, since…,” I shake my head, dragging my gaze away from him and staring instead at a spot on the floor. I don’t want to hear it, and yet, I do. “I promise you,” he adds, quietly, his voice husky as he tips my face up so that I have to look at the deep, dark endless oceans in his eyes.

“Well you know what they say about playoffs,” I reply brightly as Sid returns to my side, shucking off his jacket and stepping out of his shoes.

“No,” Max says quietly, taking a step back and holding his hand out to give me a hand up. “What did he say?”

“Sid was just telling me how you all have a rule,” I tell him, putting my hand in his and feeling his thick, warm fingers close around mine. “No sex during playoffs.”

“Esti de tapette de calisse,” Tanger growls at Sid who flicks him the bird. “More like more sex. Rien comme un bon démodé n’établissent avant un jeu.”

“And maybe that’s why I can step it up and you can’t Tanger,” Sid shoots back, starting an all our riot of discussion pro and con sex before games. I stare down at Max’s hand curled around mine and then up into his intense gaze that tells me without having to ask, just what his take on the discussion would be, and feel a shudder run through my entire body.

“Good luck,” I give his hand a squeeze before turning to buss Sidney’s cheek and, putting one foot very deliberately in front of the other, I manage to walk out of the room before my knees give way again and I have to press my back against the cool, concrete wall and let go a number of colourful profanities.

“What’s up buttercup?” Kensie asks, appearing out of the crowd with a large slice of pepperoni in one hand a giant coke in the other.

“I’m just reminding myself to keep my eyes on the prize,” I tell her breathlessly and she just grins back at me.

“Yeah being in that room can be a little distracting,” she agrees, allowing me to wrap my arm around hers ‘as she leads us to the elevator. “Particularly when Kris is playing with his hair, I just want to reach out grab it and run my fingers through it and make him call me mistress,” she adds with a lecherous grin that helps to erase the feel of Max’s hand on mine.

“Does that mean you want Jordy to grow out his mane?” I ask as the metallic doors slide open.

“No, he’d look stupid with long hair,” she sighs. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t toss that furry little Frenchman out of bed for eating poutine,” she adds, with a snort as the doors slide closed behind us. “You know what I mean?”

“I think I do,” I agree, staring at the closed doors and imagining an altogether different furry Frenchman feeding me half melted cheese curds and gravy off of my own stomach, and feel something low inside of me clench at the thought. “Yeah, I think I do.”
_____________________________________________________________________

“You were serious?” Mel stares at me, incredulous, as I turn to open my bedroom door and leave her behind.

“Of course I'm serious. I have to concentrate. I need all of the strength and stamina I can get. I can’t have you waking me up at two in the morning and wearing me out,” I tell her, turning to cup her face in my hands and planting a long, soft kiss on her lips. “It’s only a couple months,” I add, kissing her once more and feeling my body telling me just how stupid an idea this is. Damn, it was always easy to give this up for a couple of months before when it just meant not going to pick up girls at a bar, but this…, I let my hand roam down over the curve of her ass and pull her hips towards me so she can feel how much I don’t want to go through with my own idea.

“But we’re getting married in a couple of months,” she reminds me, her hand slipping between us to cup my quickly hardening dick. “I thought we were getting in some practice time,” she adds, her hand sliding up and down the length of me, making it even harder and making it almost impossible to turn her away.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” I whisper to her, pressing against her hand and wondering if it’s too much to ask her to get me off so I can sleep. “I just have to keep my strength up. As it is,” I sigh, peeling her hand off of me and pressing my lips to the centre of her palm, “I’m going to have to have a cold shower now. Don’t make this harder for me Mel,” I add, kissing the tip of her nose. “Just use the spare room and it will be like it was before, for a while. Not forever,” I add, already worrying about the Caps in the second round. I just can’t see us having trouble with the Sens.

“I can just sleep,” she offers, looking up at me with her doe eyes, which, with her new pixie cut, seem to be even bigger. “I’ll just sleep. I’ll keep my hands to myself,” she promises. I want to believe her but it’s not really her that I’m worried about.

“Yeah, in the guest room, now go,” I chuckle, pressing my lips one last time to her brow and then turning her around and giving her a pat on the ass. She looks back at me with narrowed eyes and for a minute I think she’s going to argue some more, but then she heads down the hallway, her hands clenched at her sides.

I turn and head into my rooms, heading directly for the shower. I do need that cold shower.
_______________________________________________________

“Mel,” he doesn’t argue, doesn’t ask why I’m here, even though the question is in his eyes. He just looks down the driveway at the cab and then back at me. “Do you need money for the cab?” he asks and I nod, once, feeling a little sheepish at having to ask. He grabs his wallet from the dish beside the door and jogs down to the end of the driveway. I watch him go, rubbing my hands along my arms where the chill of the early morning hours has my skin crawling with gooseflesh. He doesn’t seem to notice, or isn’t affected by it, I notice, when he returns in nothing but those boxer briefs he wears and takes my hand, pulling me inside with another furtive look around.

As if I’ve been followed. As if anyone would guess I’d come here.

“He meant it,” I tell him quietly, as his hands take over rubbing at my cold skin. “The no sex during the whole play offs. He meant it. He wanted me to sleep in the spare room,” I add, which had felt like adding insult to injury. I’m not enough to make him want to break his superstitious silliness. I had even lain awake, waiting for him to come down the hallway, tell me he’d been wrong, but he didn’t. He never came.

“Il est un imbécile,” Max replies quietly, reaching over to lock the door. I watch his hand turn the deadbolt and a shudder runs through my entire body. “You can stay here, if you want. I’ll make up a bed…,” he begins, but his voice trails away when I reach out and begin to trace the cross fleur de lis on his ribs with my fingertips. “Mel…Melody,” he says my name more forcefully, his hand snapping around my wrist. I look up at him, and I know that I probably look just as lost and confused as the last time I came here and I wouldn’t blame him if he turned me away, but he doesn’t. Something goes soft in his expression and I feel his arms wind around me as he pulls me into the circle of his arms, against the warmth of his skin and I close my eyes, reveling in the warm clean scent of him. “C’est une mauvaise idée,” he sighs, and I can’t tell if he’s telling himself or me but when I look up at him, feel his hand touch my cheek, I don’t care. I know it’s a bad idea. It’s a crazy idea, but when his lips, trembling, take mine, I forget how stupid this is and relax against his body and reach for his tongue with mine.

He moans into my mouth, moving to press me against the wall, and I feel him, hard and ready, pressing into my stomach. Running my hand down his back, I feel his muscles twitch beneath my fingertips and as my hand slides down over his ass, I feel him pull back. But I haven’t come here for him to pull away from me too. So I grab onto his ass and pull him to me, climbing his thigh with my other leg, wrapping myself around him.

“Ma petite, tu sais ce que tu me demandes?” he asks, breathlessly, his beard burning my skin as he kisses his way down my neck.

“Oui, je veux que tu me fasses le sentir quelque chose,” I sigh, arching my neck, wanting more. “Make me scream Max, make me beg,” I whimper as his hand locks around my thigh, pulling my legs up and around his as he tries to take me to the stairs but doesn’t even make it half way up them before he puts me down and reaches for the zipper on my jeans.

I push his hands out to the way, my fingers clambering with the zipper before I push them down over my hips and he drags them off the rest of the way, tossing them to the bottom of the stairs. Then his mouth is on mine again and the feel of his beard, of the wiry hairs on his upper lip rasping against my tender skin does nothing to dampen my need as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deep inside of me. I ignore the way the stairs digs into my back, reaching for the railing and using it to lift my body off of the ground while my other hand presses against the wall, nails digging into the plaster, feeling paint lifting off as I scramble to stay with him, to meet him thrust for thrust as his body presses into mine, deeper and deeper, harder and harder until I can’t breathe, until there isn’t anything but his name on my lips and I cry I to the heavens as he pulls me close and our bodies meet one last time, my back arching like a bow string, his hands clenched around my waist, his back straight as an arrow and I hear my name as he growls it between his teeth and I feel…I feel everything.

I feel my blood coursing through my veins. I feel my heart hammering inside of my chest. I feel my lungs expanding as I gasp for breath. I feel my muscles contracting around his dick deep inside of me. I feel his cock pulsing deep within me, filling me with the hot, wet rush of his seed. I feel his breath warm on my neck as he pulls me close. I feel my arms wrap around his muscular neck as he carries me upstairs to his bed.

Mostly I feel wanted, really wanted and I know that when I do finally fall asleep tonight, it won’t be alone.

________________________________________________

“Toast?” I turn the corner to find Lauren, Mel and Nathalie busy at making an enormous breakfast. Bacon, eggs, French toast, pancakes, chopped orange sections, grapefruit….

“You guys must have been up for hours,” I mutter, grabbing a section of orange and crossing the kitchen to where Mel is standing over the stove, flipping silver dollar size pancakes.

“Well Mel was anyway. I woke up to the smell of real coffee for once,” Nathalie grins, inhaling happily over a cup of something dark and steaming.

“That’s my girl,” I grin, wrapping my arm around her waist and pressing my nose into her hair. It’s still a bit wet but it smells of strawberries and her skin, where I press my lips at the curve of her shoulder, tastes of vanilla.

“I know you’re not a big breakfast eater,” she apologizes, flipping another pancake before reaching for a plate and shoveling half a dozen onto it before handing it to me. “But I just couldn’t sleep and I thought the girls might like to have a cooked breakfast for once.”

“Mmm, what smells so good?” Mario rounds the corner, already in a suit and tie, hair slicked back. “I have a good mind to call of my breakfast meeting and stay,” he adds with a grin, walking over to press a familial kiss to the top of Lauren’s head before he slides onto a chair next to his wife. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Sid kicked Mel out last night, something to do with the playoffs,” Lauren muses, leaning against the counter with a dry piece of toast in her hand.

“I didn’t kick her out, I just asked her to stay in the guest room as if it’s any of your business,” I snarl at her which only gets me a raised eyebrow and a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You’re not actually subscribing to that old wives tale are you?” Mario laughs, reaching for the syrup and quickly covering his stack of pancakes.

“What do you know? You used to smoke before games,” I tell him, staying where I am, pressed against Mel, and putting down my pancakes next to the grill, eating them dry.

“You have me there,” Mario laughs, putting three pancakes in his mouth at once.

“Still, poor girl. I hope you slept okay in the guest room. I know the bed is a lot smaller than the one in Sid’s room,” he apologizes, shooting me a dark look.

“I think she must have slept out by the pool,” Lauren interjects, walking by and stealing a pancake from my plate. “I don’t think her bed looked slept in.”

“I make my bed in the mornings,” Mel shoots back, reaching to turn off the burner and turning around to wrap her arms, welcomingly around me. “You should try it,” she adds, though her attention is now on me. “And how did you sleep?” she asks, looking relaxed with the healthy glow about her that speaks of a long, hot shower.

“I should have taken you up on your offer,” I tell her quietly, kissing her lightly.
“I hardly slept at all. I tossed and turned all night,” I sigh, reaching to nip at her ear. “I missed you,” I add, tugging at the collar of her bathrobe, and then stop in my tracks.

“Bug bite,” she explains, tugging her robe back and then reaching for my hand to steer me to the table. “God, I’m so hungry I could eat the entire first line of the Sens,” she grins, pushing me firmly into a chair and then crawling onto my lap and demanding to be fed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them in no time,” I tell her, feeling her round little bottom pressing down on me, making me second guess my plan of abstinence.

“Good,” she smiles warmly down at me. “I like the sound of that.” I can’t help grinning and when I look around at Nat and Mario they’re grinning back at us in that way that says ‘aren’t they a cute couple’ and I can’t help but think that maybe we are.

Chapter 33

Team Max seems to be catching up but is Team Sidney making a come back???


“You look so elegant,” Nathalie sighs as she stands back, pin cushion in hand. I have to admit that she’s right but I’m beginning to think it’s too much. What had started out as a breezy, light summer dress has turned into the ballgown from My Fair Lady, complete with the crystal beading which I’d sworn not to do but between Lauren, Nathalie and everyone at Pugh’s, the design that had started out as simple and flowing has taken on a life of its own. Not that it doesn’t make me a little misty eyed to see my reflection looking back at me looking more like a Princess of Fairy than a girl from Cole Harbour.

“I am sooo getting you to design my dress when I get married,” Lauren sighs, from where she’s been sitting, watching the whole show with that kind of look on her face that says she can’t wait to trade places with me and be the bride rather than the bridesmaid.

“I’ll be happy to,” I reply, turning sideways with the hopes that it won’t look quite so bling from that angle. “I’m just thinking I should have had someone else design this for me.”

“You did. Sort of,” Kensie chortles from where she’s still pinning, kneeling at my feet, where I’m standing on a step stool. “We did sort of took over you design,” she adds, grinning up at me, knowing I won’t kick her and send all her carefully placed pins flying.

“It was supposed to be a simple summer dress,” I sigh, catching a glimpse of the gathering at the back and the train that snakes at least three feet behind me.
“Well if you were having a simple garden wedding, then that might have been perfect, but you’re not, are you?” Kensie reminds me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that makes me want to crawl into a corner, get into a fetal position and call for the men in the white coats. This whole wedding thing has gotten completely out of hand. All I’d wanted was a simple, small, intimate wedding in the back yard of Sid’s place on the lake back home. What we are ending up with is the society wedding of the year, with, at last count, over three hundred guests, in Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Hope, which, while gorgeous, isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. It is now all out of my hands and firmly in the hands of Sidney’s publicist, which is turning into both a blessing and a curse.

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, shuddering at the thought of the wedding planner that has been hired on our behalf. The woman drives a Barbie pink Cadillac escalade and wears cell phones like accessories.

“Holeeee sheet! Look who’s dripping in bling!” I turn to tell Jordan that he’s supposed to be downstairs keeping Sidney occupied while we pin up the dress, but seeing Max standing behind him with that kicked puppy look on his face and all the words I intend to say just sort of disappear on me.

“Tu es si beau. Tu ressembles à une princesse féerique.”

I want to say thank you, but more than that, I want the glow I feel when he says it to be nothing more than the simple happiness of being given and accepting a compliment, but having had Max avoid me at all costs for almost an entire month, I find that I can’t do either. In fact, it’s all I can do to blink back the tears as I stand there watching him staring back at me.

“If you ask me she’s too covered up,” Tanger muses aloud, breaking the tension as he shoves both Jordy and Max down the stairs in front of him, a six pack hanging from his finger. I watch them disappear down the stairs, my skin still prickling just the way I remember it doing when Max had laid me out on his bed and knelt there, on the edge of the bed, his gaze roaming over me, half hungrily and half reluctantly.

“Let’s get you out of this so you can get it back to your worker bees back in your sweatshop,” Kennedy say quietly, appearing behind me, carefully picking up my train and cradling it in her arms as I step down off of the stool to follow her back to the guest room where the garment bag is hanging. “Have you got something to tell me?” she hisses the moment we get around the corner.

“Huh?” I almost fall forward when she hustles me into the room and nearly jump out of my skin when she slams the door behind us.

“Don’t you dare ‘huh’ me. I’m your roommate and I’d like to think one of your best friends in the world and I cannot believe you didn’t tell me,” she snarls as she unzips the dress and helps me step out of it.

“If I knew what you were talking about..,” I begin only to have her let out a bark of laughter as she unhooks the garment bag from the back of the door and lays it across the queen size bed.

“You, sleeping with Max,” she huffs, laying the dress carefully beside the garment bag before turning her blazing eyes on me. “Jordan told me. I didn’t really believe him until I saw that little display. Have you lost your cotton pickin’ mind?” she asks, hands on hips, peering at me as if I’ve gone completely off my rocker.

“It’s hard to explain,” I begin, but I can tell that isn’t going to suffice, so, with a sigh, I launch into the whole gory, sordid story. “I had to lose my virginity, okay? And don’t look at me like that. I know, I was the oldest virgin on the fucking planet, but I’d been saving it for Sidney and then it turned out he had like zero interest in being the cherry popper and I just needed to do something about it and Max is like…well he’s my friend and….”

“Oh girl, you are soooo blind. That boy is not your friend. He was looking at you like a fat kid on a diet looks at a piece of triple-decker chocolate ganache cake.”

“I know,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks grow warm as I think about that same look on his face as he’s brought me over the edge of pleasure, his fingertips brushing gently up from my hips, over my breasts before he’d rolled me over and pinned me to the bed beneath him. Closing my eyes now, I can feel the same shiver that look had sent through me, a fine sort of ripple that began at my lips and worked its way down to my toes as he’d kissed me, softly, but thoroughly, and then whispered my name against the line of my jaw as he slid into me once more. “I know,” I repeat, partly for her sake but mostly for myself. “I mean, I guess I realize that now.”

“Oh my god, the poor fucking bastard. He’s obviously in love with you and you do that to him? And now, just to top it off, you’re going to marry his best friend?” Kennedy shakes her head. “Nice, Mel, very nice.”

“I thought he could handle it!” I cry in self defense. “He’s supposed to be some kind of epic man whore. It was just sex,” I add, throwing my hands up.

“Even man whores have feelings Mel,” Kensie sighs, shaking her head.

“I didn’t know!” I insist. “I don’t think he did…not before…and if he did he could have said no. I could have gone to someone like Tanger or….”

“Would you? If it had been you and Sidney, would you have turned Sidney down a year ago if he’d come to you?” she asks, and though I want to argue my innocence, I know damn well I don’t have a leg to stand one. Kennedy shakes her head and rubs at her eyes before turning her impatiently gaze back to mine. “And if Sid finds out?”

“He won’t,” I insist, remembering how Max had promised me that the guys would never tell.

“Jordy told me. What makes you think that I won’t tell him?” she asks, and I know she’s just being facetious, that she would never do that to me, and I only have Max’s word that the guys won’t tell but….

“Because that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” I say quietly, knowing she’s going to roll her eyes at me Cinderella construct, my fantasy, my belief that Sid is supposed to be mine and nothing is going to get in the way of that.

“You’re nuts,” she says quietly, grabbing my head and pressing her lips to my forehead. “That ass doesn’t deserve you,” she adds, staring me dead in the eyes. “But what you did…you? I can’t believe you did that,” she shakes her head and laughs. “Was he as good as he thinks he is?”

“Oh my god! I don’t want to talk about it,” I cry, wrenching free of her grasp but not before I feel my cheeks turn a bright crimson.

“He was…oh my god, he was, wasn’t he? Better than Sidney?” she asks, but I’m already pulling on my jeans and grabbing my t-shirt, intent on getting out of this room before she pins me to the wall and subjects me to torturous questioning that I don’t even want to think about let alone answer to. My hand is already on the door with my t-shirt only half pulled over my head when the door opens and I find myself stepping directly into a man’s broad chest. Like a blind person, I feel the broad chest, the slight indentation between each rib bone, and the massive plate in the middle of his chest and I know who it is.

“Kensie, your man’s looking for you,” I call, tugging my t-shirt down and sneaking around under Jordan’s arm before making a quick exit towards the kitchen, hoping for some comfort food in the way of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

___________________________________________________________________

“As-tu un souhait de mort?”

I look up from my cards and turn to see Tanger pushing Max into the wall in a way that looks like he’s cruising for a fight but Max only brushes his arm away. I notice he doesn’t move though, almost like he thinks he deserves whatever’s coming to him, but Tanger only shakes his head and gives Max’s whisker covered cheek a gentle slap.

“Tu es un vieux romantique, et un imbecile,” Tanger adds, shaking his head again before turning away from Max to dump the beers he’s brought with him onto the table. “Deal me in,” he laughs, as if nothing’s happened. I glance back at Max to see him staring up the stairway, and I think about cashing in my chips for this hand to give him a talking to about Lauren when Kennedy and Jordy appear crashing down the stairway like a herd of elephants, Kensie on Jordy’s back yelling mush and hitting his ass hard enough that we all wince just a little.

“Is uh…is Mel coming down?” Max asks, peering around them at the empty stairwell.

“She’s not down here already?” Kennedy asks, jumping off of Jordan’s back and onto the couch, grabbing the remote out of Flower’s hand. “Who’s got popcorn?”

“Where is my fiancée?” I ask, glancing at the empty stairwell and then back at Kennedy who is busy shoving TK off the end of the couch to make room for Jordy presumably.

“Pouting, I think,” Kensie answers, now being joined by her boyfriend and the two of them are now turning TK into a human tug toy. “Or going over place settings, some shit like that. Seriously, if I ever get married and pay what you guys are paying for a wedding planner and the bitch still wants me to make decisions, I’m running for Vegas.”

“Vegas eh?” Jordy raises an eyebrow, letting TK go who lands in a heap at his feet and grabbing his girlfriend instead. “Quick and dirty? Drive through wedding maybe?”

“Oh yeah, on the back of a Harley,” Kensie grins back at him, like it’s a dare. “Who needs all this rhinestone encrusted, lily of the valley and white roses shit when you can get married on a Harley and go gambling instead?”

“I love this girl,” Jordy declares, grabbing her and pulling her onto his lap before reaching for her tonsils with his tongue.

“Ewwww, get a room,” Lauren cries, appearing, alone at the bottom of the stairs.

“Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for like…ten minutes?”

“Jealous much?” TK asks, looking up hopefully at her.

“If I wanted to play tonsil hockey with a Staal, and I do mean if,” she points out emphatically. “It wouldn’t be that Staal. And if I just wanted to play tonsil hockey with someone here,” she adds, glancing towards the table where Tanger, Brooksy, Godsy, Gogo and I are sitting. “You’d be the last one in line,” she laughs, stepping on TK’s stomach on her way to squirming in between Flower and Dupes are sitting at the other end of the couch.

“I thought this was a guy’s poker night?” Dupes asks as he glances back at me and mouthing something like ‘get rid of her’ to me. Shaking my head, I open my mouth to tell Max to do the honors in dragging her back upstairs, but I can’t see him. He must have hit the head.

“Whose deal is this?” Tanger asks, glaring unhappily at his cards. “Is this Crosby house rules where the lucky fucker wins again?” he growls, making all the guys laugh and making me forget, for now, to wonder where Max has wandered off to.
_______________________________________________________________


“I thought I might find you out here.” I hear the sound of the French door closing and then the scuff of his jeans hitting the concrete step beside me. I don’t even look over. I just hand the tub of ice cream to him, or what’s left of it.

“So you’re talking to me now?” I ask, still staring at the way the lights play on the water of the pool.

“I wasn’t not talking to you,” he begins and that’s when I turn and raise my eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I was avoiding opportunities to talk to you but can you blame me?” he asks, trying to hand the tub of S’mores back to me, but I wave it off.

“You’re supposed to be my friend,” I mutter, hearing the undercurrent of anger growing in my own voice that sugar and chocolate have done nothing to curb.

“I am…I am,” he insists when I turn to him with that same raised eyebrow. “I just…I hate watching you do nothing while he makes into a perfectly behaved Wag,” he explains which makes me twitch, thinking of all the times I’d used that word as a epithet for girls with no brains, long legs, high heels and bad dye jobs. That wasn’t going to be. I’d sworn that to myself, even as I longed and wished for Sidney to notice me, to want me and hated him for it too.

“It’s all a stupid tug of war,” I sigh, dropping my head in my hands and rubbing at that ever present throb in my temples. “I want him but I don’t want this life…I can’t believe I can’t have both. Someone must have both,” I insist. I feel his hand on my arm, at first and realize that I want to feel that comfort and so when his arm goes around me and pulls me against him and I feel the heat of his body and the hear him whispering comforting words to me in French, I close my eyes and let the tears fall. Tears that I’ve wanted to cry every time he’s avoided me when I’ve gone to the games and been down in the halls of the arena, waiting for Sidney while Max leaves in a group of guys and doesn’t so much as wave, leaving me feeling abandoned. Tears that I’ve felt when I’ve laid in my fiancé’s arms at night and not felt the sort of contentment I felt that first night…. “You don’t…I mean, Kensie says you do but…you don’t have like…a crush on me do you?” I ask, pulling away from him enough to look up into his eyes. Tonight they’re the colour of water in a deep inlet, a dark, dark bluish green. A long moment passes as he reaches up to brush the hair back out of the wet trails my tears have left behind and then he smiles, that easy, mischievous smile of his and shakes his head.

“C’mon, I’m Maximus. I’ve got them cueing up outside the arena for a piece of this,” he grins, holding up his arm and flexing his bicep, showing off that shield with the T for Talbot inside of it. “I think you’re beautiful,” he adds more quietly, brushing my cheek with his fingertips. “But you have your man and I’m a big man whore as you like to call me. We’re just friends, d’accord? And if you’re still worried about that thing…?” I shake my head vehemently and duck my face away, feeling my cheeks turn bright pink just thinking of it in front of him. “Good, because the guys won’t tell and I’m not going to tell anyone; I haven’t got a death wish,” he laughs, pulling me into his arms again. “You’re just having nerves about all this crazy out of control wedding bullshit that you don’t even want, and who can blame you? What’s this I hear about some giant ice statue of Mario at the reception?”

“It’s not of Mario it’s just a hockey player,” I correct him, digging my elbow into his ribs and though I know it’s not hard enough to make him actually do it, he grabs his ribs and makes the proper ‘woof’ sound of losing his air as we both scramble to our feet. “And I totally vetoed that.”

“Well I’m glad because that cucaracha cumberbund your man is going to wear is bad enough,” he adds, leaning over to pick up the abandoned pint of ice cream, giving me a target I just can’t ignore.

“You get down there and tell him that it’s silver and not fucking la cucaracha,” I order, giving his but a swift kick as I send him shuffling towards the door in his socks.

“As my mistress wishes,” he laughs back at me.

“Who’s a dirty mistress? What did I miss?” Jordy and Kensie appear around the corner, looking like they’ve been looking for a little alone time, his long arm around her neck, his fingertips just brushing the top of her breast, her arms wrapped around his middle, looking up at him like she can’t stop looking at his face. The sight of them stops me in my tracks. Sidney never looks at me that way.

“If you…if you see Sid tell him I had a headache and went to bed,” I mutter, pushing past Max and heading into the house. It wouldn’t be a lie. That pounding never seems to go away and right now, it just got worse.

Chapter 26

Fair warning, you might not want to read this in class, or at work or any place that you may be asked why you're turning red & sweating...or at least that's what it did to me.


“You going to sit out here by yourself all night?” Lauren asks, the sound of her flip flops on the flagstones beside the pool echoes loudly in the silence of the dark night.

“Can’t sleep,” I answer honestly. I’d been, in turns, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling unable to count sheep or do anything else to relax myself enough for sleep. “I put new sheets on but the room smells like him and...I just can’t sleep there.”

“So sleep in one of the guest rooms,” she suggests, a pack of cigarettes appearing in her hand and the sound of a match being struck drags me out of delirium.

“I was going to but...when did you start smoking?” I ask, staring at the old Hollywood elegant way she holds the lit cigarette before taking a long drag on it, the ash at the end turning cherry red before she takes it out from between her lips and blows out several smoke rings which sort of answers my question. A while, I’m guessing.

“I only do it when I’m stressed,” she replies coolly, turning to give me a warm smile before producing a dish into which she taps the ash and tosses the burnt match.

“And what could you be stressed over?” I ask, thinking that she’s pretty and rich and wants for nothing and she doesn’t have the same worry that I’ve had keeping me up half the night.

“Joey Haddad,” she sighs, a dreamy expression on her face.

“A guy form school?” I guess but she shakes her head.

“Baby Pen. Six two, built and I mean...mmmdamn built,” she sighs again, her eyes taking on this far away gleam.

“But he’s in Scranton,” I guess and she sighs by way of a reply. “Let me guess, you can’t think of any plausible reason to be staying overnight in Scranton?” She nods and rolls her eyes.

“I know, pathetic right? I mean, I’m old enough to be date and stuff but I swear to god if dad knew I was going there to jump one of his players...,” she draws her thumb, nail in, across her throat and I nod.

“Well I guess there’s always the old stand-by. Just say you’re staying at a friend’s place. Just make sure she’s in on it,” I offer but she shakes her head.

“The whole PTA group is too... close. They check with each other. I’d so get caught,” she sighs and then butts out her cigarette. “I’ll just have to entice him down here,” she adds with a mischievous grin. I nod and then she stands and stretches and yawns. “I think I’ll go back to bed and dream that I’m not chained to this house,” she moans. I waggle my fingers at her by way of saying good-night and she turns to go, but that question that keeps coming to the forefront of my mind is suddenly there at the tip of my tongue.

“Lauren...have you...you know since you and Kris LeTang...have you done it since?” I ask, staring intently at the lift reflecting on the cool blue of the pool.

“Well of course. I didn’t lose it so I could just go back to being a nun,” she laughs.

“So was it...I mean was it better after, y’know, the second time?” I ask, turning to look at her so I can read the truth in her features and she grins wide.

“So much better the second time. It was so worth it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she grins and then turns on her heel and heads back into the house.
Yeah, I think to myself. That’s what I thought.
_____________________________________________________________________________

“What are you doing here?”

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Max opens the door wider and peers at me through lidded eyes.

“You kissed me and then you left. Don’t you think we have something to talk about?” I ask, stepping forward, expecting to walk by him and into his house, like I have done a dozen times before, but he moves his arm and blocks my way.

“Not now…I mean just…tomorrow or something,” he mumbles and I realize he’s looking past me and not at me.

“I’m not here to argue,” I say more quietly, hugging my arms close around me.

“Then what are you here for, mon chère?” he asks, his gaze focused on one of the flagstones near my feet.

“I think you know,” I whisper, wishing the courage I’d gathered to walk up the driveway wasn’t failing me now. His brow furrows and then his gaze finally rises to meet mine.

“Mel, ma petite…I’m half asleep. You’re going to have to do better than that,” he says in a hoarse whisper before he swallows audibly and his hand slides down the door jam.

“I could have gone to Tanger’s,” I whisper, stepping near him, so that there’s barely a breath in between us. I reach out and run my finger down the center of his bare chest, just where the swirls of soft hair begin end down to the middle of his six-pack. I watch my finger pause there, just above his belly button and then I look up at him and the sleep has disappeared entirely from his eyes.

He steps aside, closing the door and throwing the bolt. A security measure, I suppose, or maybe it’s not even something he’s aware of doing, and yet the sound makes me jump. I look around the tiled foyer at the plants that the maid service must water, Max couldn’t possibly take care of them himself, and the dark wood furniture that looks like it belongs in the house of older or at least more sophisticated people.

My gaze roams to the stairs that lead up to the main floor, to the living room, the kitchen and…and the bedrooms and my heart skips a beat, an almost painful feeling that makes me suck a breath in through my teeth.

“I can’t do it,” I whisper, because it’s dark in the house and it’s the middle of the night and for all I know, Max being Max, there might be some girl upstairs waiting for him to come back to bed and the last thing I want is for someone to hear me ask what I’ve come to ask.

I turn to see him standing near the doorway, in nothing but a pair of black, or at the very least dark coloured boxer briefs and nothing else. My gaze roams over his tight abs, the dark cross and fleur-de-lis decorating his ribs, the shield and T sketched on his bicep as he raises his arm to scratch at his head, his short hair in disarray, a few days growth on his chin.

“I can’t…no, I don’t want to go to his bed…you know…not knowing,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks burn as I think about how close we’ve already come to sleeping together and how nervous I’ve been and how in control Sidney always is. I feel Max’s arms slide around me, his strong arms pulling me against the solid wall of his chest, his lips pressing against my temple as he chuckles, a warm low sound.

“Ma petite, you worry too much,” he says quietly as he holds me close, one hand on the small of my back, the other cradling the back of my head as he holds it against his shoulder. “Have you been lying awake all night worrying that Sid will care about something like that?” I nod, knowing he’ll feel the rise and fall of my cheek against his skin, the ropey muscle of his shoulder relaxing as he rocks me in his arms. “He would be un imbécile inconsidéré if such a small thing as your purity bothered him and our Sidney is no fool,” Max promises, reaching between us to tilt my chin up so he can study my face and though his smile is warm, there’s something in his eyes that tells me that he’s not really thinking about Sidney’s feelings at all and that is exactly what I was bargaining on when I drove over here.

Not that I’ve entirely worked up the courage to do what I came here to do, which makes me look away from his searching gaze, laying my head against his shoulder instead. I’m not going to beg. That’s one thing I’ve promised myself I won’t do. I didn’t, however, promise myself that I wouldn’t give him another hint if at first he didn’t understand, and so I slide my hand, very slowly up his ribs, tracing the large tattoo there and his skin ripples beneath my touch.

“He doesn’t want me that way…not…untouched. I asked. He expects…more,” I explain when I turn my face up to his and I can see the knowledge in his eyes, desire warring with what he knows is right and he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, at least until I turn and press my lips against his warm skin, just above the collarbone. I hear him let out the breath he’s holding in one long rush of air and his arms tighten around me.

“La plus belle femme, que faites-tu à moi?” He growls, but tips my face up to his and his lips come crashing down over mine. His mouth and his tongue are both insistent and bruising as he kisses me fiercely and hungrily. I feel his hand fist in my hair, pulling my head back as he drinks at my mouth, as his tongue battles with mine.

It’s like being with Sidney and nothing at all like it all at once. My body is alive, every sensation doubled, tripled as he kisses his way down my neck, but there is none of Sidney’s tenderness in the way his teeth dig into my shoulder, or the way his hands slide down to capture my ass in an almost painful grip.

And Sidney’s never pulled me up off of my feet, but Max does, turning to press me against the wall, stepping between my thighs to hold me up with the force of his body against mine as his pelvis grinds against mine. I hear myself whimper as his arousal becomes physically apparent and I know that this is when I should chicken out, when I should beg him to stop and let him talk me out of this. But I don’t. Instead I whisper in his ear the words I know he wants to hear and is probably dreading at the same time.

“Take me Max, please. Fuck me.” He growls against my throat, the vibration sending a shiver down my spine but I only tighten the grip my legs and arms have on him and nip at his ear, digging my teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh there and repeat my demand until he carries me into the entertainment room, kicking the door in and depositing me on the pinball machine.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, ma petite. Ce que tu me demandes de faire est fou. You don’t want this,” he mutters in a voice made hoarse by lack of sleep and desire, more like he’s trying to talk himself out of it than me. I have not, however, rescinded my hold on him and with one hand on the back of his head I press my lips to his while guiding his other hand to my breast.

He doesn’t move, not for what seems like minutes but then I hear and feel him moan into my mouth and his hand closes around my breast, squeezing it gently and then his fingers tug at my nipple until I moan into his mouth.

I feel the rasp of his beard against my skin, and it feels nothing like Sidney’s soft smooth cheeks and even though I’m sure Max has been with just as many, if not more, women than Sidney has, his kisses feel…different. Not just less refined, but more urgent, less practiced and far, far less patient. His lips are not as soft, and, when his hand slides up underneath my top, I find his hands are not as soft either.

When Max’s lips close around my nipple, when his teeth tug on it and by doing so tug a moan from my lips, I think this is as far as Sidney and I have gone and he…he was less rough, more gentle, more tender. He’d taken his time, working his way there while, even as his teeth tug at my nipple, Max’s hands are busy working their way down and my eyes flutter closed and I release his name as a sigh from my lips as his fingers slide up inside of me.

“If we do this, si je te fais l’amour, it can never be taken back,” he whispers, his serious gaze searching mine. “I’ll always be your first, ma biche. Once done, I cannot undo this.”

“I…I want this,” I reply, my heart beat sounding like thunder in my ears as my gaze roams over his broad round shoulders, down his chiseled torso to the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I don’t want him to know that…I don’t want him to go back to thinking I’m that…little girl.”

“Mon chaton…if it is that way between you then why…?” I silence him with a look and my fingers pressed to his mouth before I reach with my other hand to drag my dress up my thighs and then help him pull my panties down. “No…no ma petite, this is….”

“This is what I want,” I remind him, kicking my panties aside and allowing my legs to drape over the edge of the pinball machine, keeping my calf away from the plunger. Then I slowly lift my up and off, tossing it too to the floor andt that seems to decide it and while I bite down on my bottom lip, Max slides his boxer briefs down and positions the head of his cock at my entrance. We both look down at it, and then his gaze meets mine and the expression I see is both apologetic and full of desire, one warring with the other. “Please, mon ami, pour moi,” I whisper, my hand reaching to stroke his where it rests on my thigh.

“Oui, pour mon ami,” he repeats, his free hand reaching to pull me close, holding me against him. “Hold on to me,” he whispers, cradling the back of my head as he slides his long, thick cock inside of me, I forget everything else but the pain and shut my eyes and hold on to the edge of the machine while we both wait for the pain to subside.

It’s only when I let out a little gasp and begin to breathe normally again that Max begins to move again and then I realize that while it still hurts, just a little, that it feels good too. I open my eyes to smile at him, feeling grateful and…and something more, something deeper but any words I plan to say I swallow when I see the look on his face.

He’s ashamed of himself, of me, but he’s soldiering on, for me. He’s doing this because I asked him to but somehow I know that he’s not enjoying this like he would if I were one of the girls he’d take home from the bar. That’s good, I tell myself. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid with Sidney. I didn’t want to see that disappointed look, I didn’t want him to have to do this like it’s a duty, to get it over with.

“Tell me what to do Max,” I beg, and he blinks, like he can’t believe I can speak, and then he stops altogether but before I can ask why he merely lifts me up off of the pinball machine like I weigh nothing and lifts me down to my feet. Reaching up to cup my cheek, he kisses me then, a soft, sweet sort of kiss, before taking my hand and leading me upstairs.

I assume, of course, that he’s taking me to his bed but instead he leads me to the bathroom where he lifts me up onto the counter beside the sink and proceeds to wash the blood of my now lost maidenhood from my thighs, taking special care to hold the cool wet washcloth against the slight throb left behind by his taking it. It’s such a sweet and tender thing that it almost makes me wish that I had saved this moment for Sidney after all, but then his thumb starts to stroke my clit and he leans in to dig his teeth into the thin flesh just over my collarbone and I forget the pain and the sweet moment altogether as I urge his mouth towards my breast.

He slides me off of the counter, his hands strong and sure beneath my ass, and slides me down over his cock. It hurts, just for a moment though, and then a new sensation begins to swell within me and all my breath leaves my lungs at once as he turns to press me back against the inside of the bathroom door.

Wrapping my legs around him, I beg him to go deeper, harder and place kisses all over his face as he obliges me by sliding his cock deeper until my eyes flutter shut and it’s all I can do to drag a ragged breath in through my teeth as the pain grips me. He waits then, I can feel him holding himself still, waiting for me to take the next move.

As the pain subsides and all I can feel is my muscles stretching around him, accommodating his size and girth while at the same time, clutching at him, pulling at him. Locking my ankles beneath his muscular ass, I try to pull him into me and as I do, I feel his fingers splay across my ass, tilting me so that he can slide up into me at a different angle and that too takes my breath away. This time though, he doesn’t wait again, but makes slow, achingly slow strokes that only leaving me wanting more.

I hear myself making sounds, whimpers and little cries as he pushes up into me that I had always thought were fake when I’d heard them made in movies but now I know how hard it is to actually speak, to form words when your body is joined with another’s. Max, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have that same issue. I hear him whisper words, almost all of them en Français and they sound dirty and sexy all at the same time.

With a growl, Max drops me to my feet, pulls the door open and then pulls me to him again, his mouth crashing down over mine as he half pushes and half pulls me to his bedroom. There he guides me to his bed and walks me backwards to it until my knees buckle at the mattress and I fall backwards onto the quilt. He stands there, half kneeling on the bed and stares down at me, his eyes roaming greedily over me as if I’m some kind of expensive steak. He even licks his full, sensuous lips before he reaches to pull my body nearer the edge of the bed.

I assume he’s going to slide back into me again but instead he reaches over to turn on the bed side light and it takes every ounce of self control that I have left to m not to grab his quilt and cover my nudity from his sight. I can’t look though, as I feel the bed dip beneath his weight, as he lays down beside me and begins to run his fingers gently down over the slope of my breast, down to my belly and over my hip. It feels too intimate, too tender.

“Do you know how to put a condom on?” he asks out of the blue, and I turn and stare at him, almost laughing in relief. Reaching over into the drawer of his bedside table, Max takes out a roll of purple foil covered Trojans and tears off a square and hands it to me.

Hands shaking, I rip open the package and shake the rubber ring loose. My eyes must be going wide or some other signal makes it obvious that I’m a novice at this too and Max’s hands cover my own as he guides them down, helping me unroll the latex tube over his still very hard cock until my hand curls around the base of him, feeling the coarse wiry hair there, a stark contrast to the heated silken smooth skin in my hand.

I look back up into his face and he smiles indulgently down at me before motioning for me to get on top. I stare at him in disbelief and shake my head. I just wanted a hard missionary position fuck but he insistently shakes his head.

“My petite, you said you wanted him to think you know what you’re doing,” he insists, taking my hand and pulling me over him until I’m straddling him, feeling my slick wet folds engulfing him. “This will please him and believe me, you’ll enjoy it too,” he advises as he help me to guide his cock inside of me. “Lean forward,” he instructs as all of the air is once again pushed out of my lungs by his entrance. “Do you feel that mon Coeur?” he asks, his fingers digging into my hips to slow my movement. “Do you feel your clit pressing against my pelvic bone?” I nod, my eyes screwed tightly shut as a shiver runs through my entire body. “And when I do this, ma belle?” he asks, pressing his body up and into mine. I nod again, moaning as I press back against him. “Oui, ma cherie, juste comme ça. Laisses-moi tu remplir. Mouvement maintenant, “ he urges, pushing up into me again and then I don’t need his guidance, I just do what feels right, riding him slowly and then quickly, feeling his hands sliding up to my breasts where he cups them, tweaking my nipples and rolling them between his fingers before sliding his hands back down to my hips and pulling me down hard over him until he is completely sheathed inside of me.

When the moment comes, when I feel like my entire body is going to burst open, when my breathing quickens to match my pulse and my entire body is locked in one long shuddering cry, he rolls me onto my back and holds me there, pinned beneath him. Looking up into his green eyes , his gaze locks with mine and for a moment his green eyes seem to swim before me and then his breath catches in his throat and his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a cry of triumph as he pushes himself deeply into me and I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me as we wrap our arms around one another and hold each other, forehead to forehead as our breathing begins to slow.

___________________________________________________________


I shouldn’t have sent her away. As I jog around the athlete’s village in the chill of the early morning air just before dawn, I realize that she’s waited for this moment just as much as I have, that she’s cheered me and encouraged me towards this moment as much as my mother or sister have and both of them will be in the stands this afternoon when we play for the gold.

She’ll probably watch with the other guys, maybe at Mellon, maybe at Max or Jordy’s. I’m sure they’ll have a good time but it won’t be like I know it will be here.

Even though the sun hasn’t come up yet, I can feel the hum in the air, the anticipation. I feel it in the tension of my muscles, like I can’t relax. Like I won’t relax until it’s decided, will I have the gold around my neck or won’t I? Will I be Canada’s favored son or the loser who didn’t win the gold?

And if I don’t, I wonder as my breath hangs in the air before me as I push my body to the edge. If we lose to the US today, I know Taylor and my mom will still hug me and they’ll take some of the sting out of the look of disappointment that will be on my father’s face but she won’t be there. Just like she wasn’t when I won the Cup because I pushed her away, my friend.

I’ve been so selfish. I’ve taken her for granted. I knew she’d be back in the Harbour over the Summer and whether I realized it or not, I looked forward to her back handed compliments, her sarcasm that would be dulled by the real affection, the very real love in her eyes, the love that’s been there the whole time, the love I’ve just always thought would be there.

And now I’ve sent her home to wait for me because I can’t handle having her here worrying about me and chewing her nails to the bone for me. Because I can’t stop thinking about her soft body next to mine. Every other guy here has their girl, their wife, their family around them. They can all handle it, and now it’s too late for me to even tell her to come back.

“Earth to mon ami,” Flower laughs, catching up to me, his hair hidden under a bright red team Canada toque, his eyes flashing with mirth. Sure it’s easy for him. He’ll be watching from the press box and win or lose he’s just happy to have been here. The next games will be his. This time, if we win, he’ll get a medal and won’t have had to do more than be the best cheerleader we’ve got.

“Just thinking I shouldn’t have sent Mel back with the boys,” I tell him honestly and he nods.

“Oui, tu es très stupide,” he laughs, ducking a punch I send his way. “You’ll just have to make it up to her when we get home, est-ce que j’ai raison?”

“I plan to,” I sigh, giving him a shove before digging my feet in and taking off. I hear him laugh and then the sound of his feet on the pavement not far behind me. Damn, that always works with Max but then Flower is a better runner than Max will be.

_________________________________________________________


Wearing one of his t-shirts that I picked up off of what I think, by the smell, is the clean pile of clothes, and by rolling down the waist of one of his pair of track pants I manage to clothe myself while I call for a taxi. I reach for the door handle and stop at the sound of him turning over in the wreck of sheets but he doesn’t wake.

For myself, as much as I’d been dragged down a time or two in between, I couldn’t really sleep. I had wanted to keep touching him, to feel him touching me. I understand now how you can become addicted to this, how you can want it all the time. From the first time the orgasm ripped through me with him firmly inside of me, I wanted more and more.

A wry smile plays across my lips as I turn to watch him lying there with his full lips just slightly parted, a smile of utter contentment on his face. He’s certainly fulfilled his end of the bargain. There can be no possible way now that Sidney will ever know what it was like to be with the Melody who knew nothing of men’s b bodies or how to make love. For that I hope that we will both be thankful.

Turning back, I slip out into the hall and tip toe down the stairs to clean up the evidence in the rec-room, tossing my dress and panties into a shopping back and even folding his briefs up at the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear the taxi honking outside.

Walk of shame, I’ve heard my friends call what I’m doing I think as I walk down his driveway and slip into the back of the cab, handing him a twenty as I give him my address. Funny, I don’t feel shame, or guilt, I think as I lean back in the seat and just for a minute close my eyes. I feel relieved yes, and…and something else I can’t quite place. Different I guess, I think as I shift a little uncomfortably trying to find a spot that doesn’t ache from either being newly opened, spanked or bitten. Yes, I think as I smile contentedly to myself, different, a woman, that must be it.