Page 51 of What If I Knew You

Griffin taps me with his shoulder as he skates by and then turns and skates backwards. “Yeah Roche. You’re a different player this morning. What gives?”

I give him an easy shrug. “Can’t a kid just learn from his teammates and get better?”

“Sure, he can. But when you’re on the ice your M.O. is to leave everyone else in the dust.”

“Well maybe I’ve decided I like dust.”

“You know, now that you mention it,” Ledger adds, listening to our conversation, “Pickle Pants did waltz into the locker room this morning with a little extra pep in his step.”

I roll my eyes but grin nonetheless because he’s not wrong. I practically floated into the locker room this morning.

I do have a little extra pep in my step.

A little jizz in my jeans…

Not that I should be at all proud of creaming my pants last night but I can’t stop smiling about it.

It’s not like I have a smoking hot woman wearing nothing but a pair of lace panties dry humping me every night.

Also, sidenote: She was anything but dry.

Watching Corri come undone under my touch, my tongue, my fingers…fuck me. There was no way I was going to be able to keep myself in control. I’ve never come at the hands…er…dry humping of a woman before so that was a first for me.

And by God, I hope it’s not the last.

But I’m not going to admit that to these assholes.

“I didn’t waltz to anything. I don’t even know how to waltz.”

“So,what’s got you so happy then Bodhi?” Griffin asks, his knowing smirk telling me he has a couple good guesses.

“Dude, why are you grinning like that?” August asks Griffin.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Bodhi”

August turns his head and glances my way. “What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“Nothing. You didn’t miss a thing.”

“Not true.” Griffin shakes his head. “Pickle Pants is keeping something from us. I can see it all over his face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“Alright, next play. Let’s go!” Coach shouts from the bench at just the right time.

Phew! Saved by Coach.

When we enter the locker room after practice though, Griffin still hasn’t let it go. “Did you win the lottery?”

“Nope,” I say, tossing my stick to the equipment manager.

“Get a new sponsored deal from your agent?”

“Nah.”

“He probably had a hot date. Leave the guy alone,” Barrett chides, finally chiming in to the conversation. Leaning down to untie my skates, I don’t say a word and Griffin is quick to notice.

“Yeah! There it is!” he says with a snap of his finger. “You saw the girl.”

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