Page 45 of Playoff
Denny opened his own water bottle and took a long swallow. I watched his throat ripple for a moment before remembering it was a bad idea to dwell too much on how good he looked, especially with the two of us on his bed, stuck in his room for a while. Ugh! Knowing what I was passing up made it worse. I pushed those thoughts down.
Denny, unaware of my inner struggle, screwed the cap back on his water bottle. “He lost college, his girl, and had to move across the country. So he lost his home and friends too.”
I nodded. “And then came the whole shit show that was Sharleen.”
“Fuck. I’d almost forgotten that.”
Everyone in hockey knew the Sharleen story. It made it to the attention of the celebrity gossip sites, and the media had run with it. “He doesn’t talk about her. But I know my twin. He was on his own, heartbroken about Mia, and my parents were pressuring him for money. I think he got together with her to have someone on his side.” If I’d only known how bad it was for him. But he hadn’t said anything, and I was juggling school with a long commute and finally scoring a part-time job so that I didn’t have to pressure him for money.
It was quiet for a few minutes. Like always, I felt guilty and wished I could have a do-over of that time. I should have come to New York for school. Kept him company. But back in BC I was trying to keep peace between Grandma and Mom while they shared a house, and that was no picnic either.
Denny broke the silence. “No wonder he hates me.”
There was something in his voice. A resignation, like this wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with bearing the burden of his parents’ crimes. I turned to face him. “I don’t think he hates you, not as a person. He doesn’t know you, and you didn’t do anything to him. I mean, if you’d been involved, you’d have skipped the country with them.”
His lips twisted. “Not everyone believes that.”
He was right. My parents were prime examples. But that wasn’t the problem with my twin.
“With Justin, I think it’s just your name. It’s so wrapped up in what we’ve gone through these past few years. My parents didn’t take it well, and we’re both so tired of them talking about your parents.”
Denny sat up on his knees and began to bounce. I stared, and then heard footsteps. Right. Fitch was heading this way. Showtime.
I moaned. Denny shot me a look, eyebrow raised. Guess that moan wasn’t good enough for him. I lay back, rubbing my hands through my hair and writhing on the bed while I let out a long, escalating cry of “Denny.”
He stopped bouncing and shook his head at me, but the corners of his mouth curled up in a smile. Then he bounced again and I moaned, fighting back giggles.
After a couple of minutes, he stopped and held up a hand. I lay still. “Is he gone?” I whispered.
“I don’t think so.” He kept his voice equally quiet. “But we’ll change position.”
I leaned up on an arm. “Yeah?”
“You on top.”
I blinked at him. He stretched out on the bed, arms behind his head. I frowned. “Why?”
“Because I don’t think I can keep up the bouncing.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re supposed to have all this stamina as an athlete.”
“If I’ve been pounding the bed that hard since I came in here, even my stamina would be giving out.”
“Fine.”
I got up on my knees, ready to fake it, but an evil idea snuck out of my lizard brain, and I slung my leg over him so I was sitting on his thighs. Not quite where I’d be if we were really having sex, but close.
He narrowed his eyes and whispered. “What are you doing?”
I smiled at him. “Just making it realistic.”
I raised myself on my knees and dropped on his thighs. They flexed under me, thick and muscular. The bed gave a bounce.
“Oh, Denny!” I moaned. “There, right there!”
His jaw clenched. I lifted a hand to my hair, pulling it up and letting my other hand fall over my chest. I was tempted to grope my breasts, but the crazy person who was taking over for me wasn’t quite that bold.
His hands gripped my hips and held me. I heard footsteps going down the hall back to the living room.
