Page 2 of The Pucking Girl Next Door

Pulling into the parking lot of the Rowdy Saloon, I grab my wallet out of the cup holder and head into the restaurant. When I get in there, a wave of relief comes over me when I see that it's not too busy. Bobby always makes sure that people don't bother us too much, but sometimes it gets so busy that he can't stop some fans. But I'm not interested in any of that tonight. I just want to have a burger, a beer, and face the firing squad from Steve.

He's already at a table and thankfully has ordered two beers. Pulling out a chair, I slump down. "Hey, man."

"Hey," he answers while taking a sip of his beer, his attention goes back to the TV where a football game plays. We both just stare at the TV, neither of us saying a word.

"What can I get you?" A soft feminine voice breaks through the haze I was in as I focused on the game. I can't help myself as I look at the cute blonde standing at our table. She must notice me checking her out, because she gives me a sly smile. But my cockdoesn't even stir, nothing, nada. Even with the image of her long legs wrapped around my neck, not even a twitch.

Pissed off that my body doesn't seem to be interested in anybody anymore, I turn away and order, "Can I get a burger with fries? I'll take another beer too." Turning back to the game, I cross my arms over my chest, annoyed at myself once again.

"She was cute?" I hear Steve say.

"Yeah."

"Maybe you just need to get laid. She seemed interested."

"I'm not interested."

"What do you mean, you're not interested? You're always interested."

Turning my body toward him, I rest my forearms on the table and lean into him and whisper, "Promise not to laugh."

With his brows furrowed, he looks at me. "I promise not to laugh."

"I haven't been able to get interested in anybody in the last six months."

Steve's lips twitch, but I have to admit even though it seems hard, he's at least holding it in, while he asks, "What do you mean, not interested?"

"I mean, every time I try to get with a girl, a part of me doesn't want to. And now it's messing with me, man. Even affecting my hockey. Like, will I ever make the shot?"

I see it before it even happens, Steve finally letting it out with a big, deep chuckle. "Hey, you said you wouldn't laugh."

"Sorry. Sorry." He puts his hands up as if he's surrendering and tries to gather himself.

"Shit. I know it's bad. I'm just not sure what to do."

Steve straightens himself, taking a sip of his beer as he places it down on the table. "What happens when you try to take a shot? And I don't mean sex."

"My hands shake and sometimes my vision goes wonky."

"I don't know, man. Maybe you're putting too much pressure on yourself, in all aspects. You should talk with someone."

Grabbing my beer, I turn my attention back to the TV. As I sip on my beer, I think about what Steve just said. Maybe I have been putting too much pressure on myself in all aspects of my life. I'm getting up there in age, well, at least in hockey years, and I still haven't won the Stanley Cup. Lately, I've been feeling like a clock is just ticking away from somewhere behind me, and if that's not enough, my personal life isn't what I thought it would be either.

I thought I would be at least engaged by now, planning a future. Since I have met no one worth being with, all I have is this feeling that something is missing. Damn, I need to get myself out of this pity party and just focus on hockey. That's what is important.

"You know what you need?" Steve's question draws my attention from the TV back to him.

Taking another sip of my beer, I ask, "What's that?"

"Smith, you need a vacation, away from everyone. Get some time to yourself."

"I just got back from vacation."

"No, I don't mean like to see your family. I mean go somewhere, where you can be by yourself. A break from it all."

I scoff at his suggestion before replying, "Maybe. But I wouldn't even know where to go."

But then I think about all the things I need to do to help with my game. If I don't improve, the coaches might bench me or worse they might not renew my contract in two years time. Thinking about all the things I need to do, I turn toward Steve. "What I need is to focus on hockey."

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