Page 26 of Cherry Picking
Pre-season is starting off strong with a total knockout. Weannihilatedthe Thunderbirds. Even did it without all hell breaking loose, though I did get a penalty for an illegal check when one of the other team’s forwards tried to play dirty with my goalie.
That’s gonna earn me a lecture, but it’s worth it seeing the heated gaze Griffin throws at me while he’s half undressed at his cubby. What can I say? The man likes it when I’m rough and gritty.
Coach gives us the spiel, the “good job but don’t get cocky” speech that we all snicker at. For two years we’ve been on the up and up, improving but falling short, and we have to have faith that a play like this one is a sign that we’re finally ready to pull out on top.
“How's your leg?” I plop down on the bench beside where Griffin is standing with a towel wrapped around his waist. Bothof our skins are flushed red from the showers, but the way his eyes trail over me says that’s not the only thing making his blood run hot.
“Just a little bruised.” He shrugs, and I peer at the growing purple splotch on the side of his knee.
The guy that tried to fuck him up landed a nasty hit with his stick and was sent to the sin bin but not before we had to pull Griff to get him looked at. He was back on the ice shortly after, with a renewed energy to not let a single shot light the damn lamp.
“He’s lucky Coach threatened to bench anyone who started a fight.”
Griffin snorts because—yeah—he’s usually the hot head of the team, abandoning his post to get a good shot in, but I swear I saw red the moment that player flew into the crease.
“Down boy,” Griff rasps under his breath with a chuckle.
The thing about needing to both blow off steam and adrenaline is that the thing I need is a foot away but entirely out of reach because it’s not common knowledge that we’re together.
Hawks comes over to clap Griffin on the back and shove my shoulder, insisting we all go out for drinks, but what I really need is an excuse to get both of us out of here.
My phone pings from the shelf in my cubby, and I reach for it with a flicker of an idea. It’s nothing special: a message from my brother, Parker, about Dad’s insane practice schedule over the summer. That’s what he gets for choosing an interest in football knowing our father is a former NFL hopeful turned high school coach.
It doesn’t matter, though. I scroll down in my contacts until I find the one I need. It pings with a follow up message from my brother—more groaning because that’s what pre-teens are best at—but I swipe away to open the new chat.
“Texting your girlfriend already?” Hawks laughs, and I don’t miss Griffin’s little frown.
“Of course. Gotta tell her how good of a game we played.”
“Damn right we did!” Hawks fist pumps the air and he steps around to take his turn at the showers. Cap tends to wait until everyone is accounted for before settling down and relaxing himself.
Griffin pulls his phone out just as it buzzes in his pocket, and when he checks the screen his cheeks turn a handsome shade of red. He curses and ducks his head while I throw a hoodie on and hold my phone up.
“Going to make a call,” I shout to the stragglers. “I’m not responsible for what you overhear.”
Some of the rookies snicker and chuckle because they assume I’m off to have phone sex with my girlfriend, and my buddies roll their eyes with a grin because they know that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Just not with who they’re assuming.
I walk a little ways down the hall out of the locker room, then make myself comfortable propped against the wall and give my contact a call.
“Hey,” Griff’s breathless voice comes down the line.
“Hey baby.” I smile at a few of my teammates as they filter out. “Thinking about you all roughed up and sweaty.”
“Could come in here and get up close and personal with it.”
I chuckle at the strain in his voice. “Baby boy,” I say, keeping my voice low, a warning.
“Imma need you to dick me down, stat,” he says, far too confident for being surrounded by teammates. “All this testosterone is making me hot and horny.”
Little tease.
“Behave or I’ll send you to the showers to jerk off alone while I listen.”
Griff’s husky groan sounds like pure filth in my ear, and I wonder if he’s rubbing himself to relieve the pressure behind his briefs.
“You know I’m hard as hell right now?” His voice is quiet and filled with lust. I love that I have this effect on him.
