The Puck Drop by Jaqueline Snowe

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Naomi

I’d never been to a game with overtime, and man, I was tired. It had been a long week, emotionally and mentally, and the thought of riding back in the bus with a bunch of rowdy hockey players sounded as appetizing as ten day old pizza. Yes, I was happy we won—I wasn’t a monster. But I wanted to put on my favorite pajamas and go to sleep.

The guys did whatever they did in the locker room where Michael shadowed my dad, so that left me waiting until they headed outside. It was fine. I could just lean against the wall and close my eyes. Even as I did that, the urge to sleep grew stronger. My skin prickled, and shit. My weight shifted as I slipped, sending a flurry of alarm bells through my limbs. My heart tried to jump out of my chest, and I took a few deep breaths to settle myself.

“Wow, Fletcher, what’s the score now? Five to one?” Michael said, making my lips curve up despite how tired my face was.

Yes, things were still a tad awkward between us, but distance since the weekend helped. I hadn’t thought about the kiss more than six times. Okay, more like a million. Despite how much I liked it and him, I knew staying friends was the right thing to do. The safe option. Keeping him in the friend category would protect my heart.

Hockey would come first for him, and I refused to come second to the sport that broke our family apart. But his casual use of five to one made my stomach swoop because that one was when he fell over from our kiss.

It was great for my ego for a second but then I shrugged.

“I didn’t trip, exactly,” I said, yawning.

“It seemed pretty close to it.” He raised his brows and grinned down at me with that half-smile I thought about far too often. It should’ve worried me how addicted I was to him. To his smile, his laugh, his jokes. I missed him this past week even though I shouldn’t. However, my sleepy brain didn’t have the strength to put up walls tonight.

“My eyelids feel like a million pounds.”

He frowned, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his fingers twitched at his side. “You need to sleep, Naomi. Overworking yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

His lips flattened into a straight line as he put a hand on my shoulder and guided me out of the visiting school rink. I told myself it was to make sure I didn’t fall because let’s face it, I was a hazard to myself when I had a full night’s sleep. But he kept his hand there the entire walk to the bus. It was warm and nice, protective. Friendly.

A friendly touch.

That was becoming my least favorite F word.

Yes, we shouldn’t be together, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about all the what-ifs. That was why distance was good. It limited the sexual fantasies I had about Michael Reiner.

He had large hands, and mm, I bet he knew how to use them. He sure knew how to kiss.  Oh god, settle down. I gulped down a breath of cold air, stifling the growing fire between my legs. School always came first, then my friends. Ever since my breakup freshman year with Theo, I never had a crazy attraction to anyone. Not like this. But even then, I was sad for a week after six months together. Theo and I had even slept together, but the attraction wasn’t anything like how I felt for Michael.

Never like this.

Just one kiss and all my reasons for not doing this flew out the janky bus window.

We got into our usual seat on the right side of the bus, and he put our bags up top while I squished myself against the cool window. We’d done road trips together two other times, yet this felt different. More charged. More...feelings.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought about last weekend as much as I did. Did he regret kissing me or maybe regret not doing it again? Would he move on to another girl, and god, would I have to see it?

Just thinking about him touching someone else had my stomach twisting into pretzel knots, and I slammed my head back on the seat with a groan.

“The bus is the worst for a nap. You can use me as a pillow if it’ll help. I’ve been told I’m quite comfortable,” he said, patting his shoulder while he teased me with his dimple. He wore the same hoodie I’d fallen in love with, and I tried not to overthink my actions.

Was he this way with all his friends? Offering up his sexy shoulder with the seductive promise of being a pillow?

What else did I’ve been told even mean?. By who? Certainly not his teammates. A surge of jealousy had my stomach tightening. God, what would it feel like to be one of those women? My throat dried up, and my voice came out like sandpaper. “Uh, thanks. Yeah.”

He tilted his head to the side, the overhead bus lights only providing me a glimpse of his strong nose. My face burned, and I figured it’d be easier to deal with these thoughts while not staring at him. I put my head on his shoulder and tensed when he picked up his arm to place it around me.

His hand rested on my hips. His large and warm fingers drifted toward my thigh, and holy shit.  I sweated even though it was forty degrees outside. He smelled like fresh laundry, outside, and him. He was so toasty and comfortable, and I snuggled deeper into his neck.

The kiss from last weekend replayed in my mind, how he gripped my head and pulled my body tight against his. My tongue felt too large for my mouth, and I swallowed, hard.

I closed my eyes but could still hear every inhale he took. His chest moved up and down as his fingers tapped on my thigh to the music on the radio. There was no way I could sleep now. Not with my body pressed against his and his breath hitting the top of my head.

“Stop thinking,” he said, his grip on me firming. “I can literally hear your mind making grinding sounds like a machine.”

“No you can’t.”

“Maybe not sounds but I can feel your tension. Relax, Naomi. I got you.”

He did. He really had me, and those words made my eyes get a little watery. Maybe allergy season was later than normal this year and the pollen in the air got to me. Yeah, that was why my eyes filled with moisture.

Or, I don’t know, perhaps it was exhaustion. Or maybe cramps. Not sleeping and getting hit with PMS was the worst combination. Throwing in a fantastic kiss to be followed by a just friends conversation didn’t help the matter either.

My fingers dug into his stomach as I got closer to him, and he moved his hand from my thigh to my lower back and rubbed small circles there.

Oh my god.

He kept doing the motion while everyone got on the bus. He didn’t stop once we were on the road and the chatter died down for the rest of the two hour ride back. He put light pressure over my sweatshirt, and oh. He slid his fingers under my sweatshirt so his rough finger pads were on my bare back, and goosebumps exploded from head to toe.

I was pretty sure I panted at this point. From a little back rub.

He kneaded the area just above my waistline, and a groan escaped me. He stilled, his entire body turning as hard as a wooden plank, and my stomach dropped out of my body from mortification. Was it too sexual of a groan? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he heard me, stopped, and now things were awkward. It was my fault. We’d agreed to be friends. I agreed enthusiastically with him after that kiss, but now I ruined the moment, and I wanted to pout about it.

“Did that feel alright?” he asked, just above a whisper. His voice was scratchy, like maybe, he felt a little like I did. Like friends was a stupid idea when we clearly had chemistry.

I didn’t care that Mona was right—that after our kiss, he chose hockey over me. With his talented fingers on my skin, my resolve got a little blurry.

Hope bloomed in my chest. “Yes, that felt good.”

“Good.” Something light touched the top of my head, and he continued the motion again. “I want you to relax.”

“Mmkay,” I said, my brain trying to figure out what that touch was. Did he hit my head with his chin? Or… did he kiss me? No, that would be weird. We were friends.

Did friends rub each other’s backs and cuddle on a bus? Probably not. But then again, what did I know? I inhaled his fresh scent, and after a few minutes, my body settled down. My breathing grew deeper, and my mind cleared. Sleep. It was so close, and I needed it.

Falling asleep was one of the best parts of the day, where everything faded into the background and my body shut down. My overactive brain would get a break. I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but I woke up with my entire body overheating.

My hand rested on Michael’s stomach, just inches from his belt. His muscles were tight and strained against my fingers, and I dug my nails into his sweatshirt just a little.

He shifted his weight but kept a firm grip on my waist. My head had dropped from his shoulder to his chest, and his heartbeat thudded against the side of my face. I wasn’t sure what his resting heart rate was, being as in shape as he was and a former athlete, but there was no way his should be beating this fast.

Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom. It was persistent and as fast as mine. Two things struck me as we remained like that, his arm around me and my head on his chest.

The first—we flirted with the line of being more than friends. The second...he practically threw himself down the stairs to get away from me when Erikson called his name, so why the hell was he letting me sleep on him while on the bus?

Those two actions didn’t add up, and math always made sense to me. I wanted so badly to ask, but fear of ruining the moment kept me silent. It would change the air between us, and for once, I just wanted to enjoy what it felt like to lay against Michael.

After ten minutes of listening to his heartbeat and the chatter of the coaches in the seats ahead of us, a crick formed in my neck, so I adjusted my position on his firm chest. I tensed, waiting for the second he knew I was awake and would demand I get up, but it never came.

If anything, he relaxed more and moved his hand from my lower back toward my thigh again, gently pushing me closer to him. My pussy throbbed with want and need, and I almost cried when the bus eventually arrived on campus. It was after midnight, and I was so stupid tired and honestly a bit horny that I fought tears as we unloaded our stuff.

It was weird to miss someone who wasn’t mine. I blamed staying up way too late working on the results from the motivation tests the players took in a lame attempt to impress my dad. Add in the hormones and the fact I thought about Michael all too much...it was a crock pot of emotions, and I was a horrible chef.

“Hold on, Fletcher, I’ll walk you back,” Michael said, putting that damn hand on my shoulder for a quick squeeze. When did that gesture become downright sinful? A shoulder touch had no business making me lock my knees together and stifle a moan.

“Sure, right.” I swayed on my feet and said to hell with it. I plopped down on the curb and rested my chin on my hands, my elbows on my knees. I might’ve overdone it this week. I realized that now, and my bed seemed so far away. Miles and miles.

“Hey, Naomi, do you want to get some dinner tomorrow?”

I looked up and squinted at… my dad. He stood with his hands in his pockets and an unfamiliar expression on his face. He rocked back on his heels, and it struck me that he seemed nervous. Which was silly.

It was my tired mind playing tricks on me. First, a sexy shoulder squeeze from Michael and now my dad asking me to dinner? Was the universe going to rain Skittles to make this lucid dream even weirder?

“To talk about the data? I’m not sure I’ll have it ready. I’m sorry,” I said, the lump forming in my throat again. “I’m extremely tired, but I could probably try to have it done on Sunday.”

He frowned and shook his head. “No, no data. I mean, yes, I’m looking forward to seeing it, but that’s not why I asked about dinner.”

“Oh, then what’s it for?”

I swore my dad blushed. He ran a hand over his face, and my dad sighed. “To eat.”

“Should I prepare anything?” I asked, still very confused as to why this invitation was happening. I hadn’t had a meal with just my dad in… years. “Oh, is it a family thing?”

“No, just us.”

“Um,” I said, my nerves growing like weeds after a summer rain. “Sure. Yes.”

“Great.” He smiled for a second before the same hard look I was used to replaced it. Firm eyebrows, lines around his mouth. “Do you have a favorite place to go on campus?”

Wow, what a weird question. I did, but I always went where he requested the past few years. “Shirley’s Sinner,” I said, the dive bar that had the best club sandwiches.

“Six work for you?”

“Yeah, yeah it does.”

“See you then, Naomi,” he said, giving me a long look before heading back toward the guys.

My dad just asked me to dinner.

Me. Not Cami.

What the fuck! This was amazing. I smiled at the realization this could mean things were changing for us. Good things, I hoped.

“You still with the conscious?” Michael said, his large body coming into view from my right. I wasn’t sure what he was doing or if he heard the conversation with my dad, but I grinned up at him.

“Yes. But not for long.” I pushed myself up, but a soft grip came around my arm, and he practically lifted me. It’d be easy to just fall against Michael and let him put that wicked arm around my shoulders for the walk home.

But being out in the open with the fresh, chilled air around us, some of the magic from our little seat on the bus was lost.  I cleared my throat once I stood and flashed my best grin at him. “I won’t trip once on the walk home.”

“Love the confidence, Fletcher, but the bags under your eyes aren’t really giving me reassurance. Come on, lean on me if you need to.”

We started our walk toward my apartment complex, and every once in a while, our hands brushed together. Just our knuckles. Like a quick whisper of wind over my skin and I yanked my hand back. I’d gotten my cuddles and Michael fix for the week, and I needed to regain my strength for next Friday.

Thank the stars we had two home games in a row. No more bus rides. No more excuses to sleep against him.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“My dad asked me to dinner,” I blurted out, wussing out of whatever he was going to say.

He frowned for a second, the line appearing between his strong brows before a slow smile spread across his face. “Hey, that’s great. You excited?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s weird. He’s never done this, and the more I think about it, I’m wondering why now.”

“Maybe he wants to repair the damage he did. Maybe he wants to talk to you. The motivation might not matter. It's the fact he asked that counts.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, that pang in my chest flaring up just thinking about how Michael didn’t have parents anymore. God, there weren’t any words to convey how sorry I was for him.

To make it worse, I thought about his comment from last weekend. That he didn’t have a lot of friends here and he wanted to keep me as one. If I pulled away or let my lusty thoughts take over, it’d ruin the friendship he needed. Damn, this sucked.

I wanted to kiss his entire body while also hugging him and promising I’d be there for him. That he didn’t have to lose me too when his life was so full of loss already. My eyes stung again, and I sniffed.

He snapped his gaze to mine and stopped walking, a frown stretching across his handsome face. “Hey, whoa, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice cracking as my eyes stung. “Hormones, I swear.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding and looking off into the distance. “I get it.” He held up his hands in the air and let out a sheepish smile.

I sniffed. “Do you? Do you really?”

“Not personally, which I assumed you knew that,” he said, his eyes narrowing a little bit. “My sister was very vocal about all that fun lady bullshit—her words, not mine. She’d cry into a bowl of ice cream before watching a war movie. I never asked questions, just stayed clear of her.”

“Wise man.” My mood improved just a little bit. “I feel like my life is out of control right now with all these emotions, and this fun lady bullshit amplifies it.”

“I can relate to the out of control feeling,” he said, softer this time. “That was me at twenty. Playing on a hockey team that won a lot. I got a ton of attention on campus, but being back home was a dark cloud. Dealing with the funerals, with my younger sister who needed to finish high school. The house. The belongings. The only thing that kept me sane were my teammates and the game. That spinning never really stopped, to be honest. It just lessened. Even now, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time or why I’m doing it.”

“I thought you wanted to be a coach?”

“Sure, probably. I chose sports management because it made sense. I came here to get away from the memories and the stifling feeling that I couldn’t escape my past. Talking about it pisses me off because am I really away from it when it’s still on my mind?”

“Michael.” This time I reached over and wrapped my arm around his trim waist. I squeezed him, hoping to offer some comfort any way I could. “There’s a difference between escaping your past and healing from it. It sounds like you might be confusing the two.”

“Wow, pot meet kettle.”

His words stung. If he wanted to push me away, it worked. I dropped my arm from him and hugged myself. We continued toward my place, and I shivered, unsure if the air got colder or the mood between us did. His face was tight, and his jaw flexed every other second, so I focused on the sidewalk and not tripping.

I successfully made it to my unit when he shoved his hands in his pockets and offered a small smile.

“Thanks for walking me home,” I said.

“Sure thing.”

He stared at me with the same intensity he did that first night at the bar, and it would’ve been easy to get lost in those sky-blue eyes. To run a hand over his jawline and kiss him again.

Instead, I waved. It was better this way. My emotions were a mess, and ‘just friends’ was our safe zone. “See you around then.”

“Goodnight.”

He waited there as I got out my keys from my bag and let myself into our place. After the door was shut and locked, I peeked out the window to see him staring at the door with longing on his face.

It caught me off guard, and my breath hitched. I had to be misreading that look, the lowering of his eyelids and tight jaw. He was pissed. That had to be it. I shook the image of Michael standing there alone out of my mind and didn’t even brush my teeth before diving headfirst into my bed.

I could overanalyze it all tomorrow. Sleep came first.