Lydia
The entire arena is cheering. The game is tied with less than one minute on the clock. I can't help it, I'm on the edge of my seat.
Next to me, Trisha and Pres are shouting and cheering for our boys in black and yellow.
I watch Wes fly across the ice to intercept another player, and my heart jumps to my throat. He manages to stop the attack and get the puck away from the opposing team. With some covert movements, he passes the puck on to JD, who races back across the ice.
The crowd is going wild and I'm on my feet. I forget to shout as JD avoids the other players. It's just him and the other team's goalie.
I hold my breath as he takes his shot. Around me, the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer. I jump up and down and scream. The last few seconds of the timer fade away amidst the cheers and we are victorious.
On the ice, Wes is hugging the other players. They're celebrating another win.
Adrenaline is pumping through me as I try to catch Wes' eyes. For a moment, I think he's looking straight at me and smiling.
"We have to go to Lucky," Pres yells near me.
"Yes," Trisha says. "Everyone is going to be there."
I shake my head. "Sorry, I can't."
"Why not?" Pres asks.
I shrug. "I'm just not in the mood."
"Are you sick?" Trisha is looking at me like I must have a fever and three broken bones if I'm saying no to a night out.
"Just tired," I lie.
They soon give up trying to convince me and Pres drops me off at home before they head to the bar.
I enter the empty apartment and, suddenly, I'm nervous. Wes and I didn't make any further plans. Is he going to be hungry? I would assume so after that performance. Should I order something? Maybe he'll eat before he gets here?
I grab my phone. I should ask. But he's celebrating with his teammates right now. I don't want to intrude.
"Fucking hell." I toss the phone on the table and head for the bedroom. I can at least change into something a bit more comfortable. Since I for sure know we're not going anywhere, I might as well be comfy.
I put on a t-shirt and yoga pants. Good. I look good, but not as if I'm trying too hard. I'm only wearing a minimum of make-up and my hair is styled in a messy bun, so I leave it.
Nobody has ever informed me of the post game rituals that happen in the locker room, but I'm assuming the players shower at the very least. Maybe have a little chat?
Oh, god. What if he thought they were going to lose? What if he wants to go out with the others and celebrate? I grab my phone. Would he let me know? There's no message.
I almost text him again. Then I think better of it. If he wants to celebrate with them, he will, and then he'll be here later. Or not at all.
I settle in on the sofa with an episode of a show I've been watching. It's amateurs baking complicated desserts. It's funny.
I'm mid episode when the doorbell rings. My stomach clenches as I press pause.
Wes is standing outside looking sexy as hell with damp hair and a slight smile.
"Hey," I say.
"Hi."
"I wasn't sure if you would go out to celebrate?"
He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt under his thin jacket. He has a large bag over his shoulder.
He frowns. "We made plans."
"Yes, but since you won, I thought..."
"I was pretty sure we'd win."
I nod and let him in. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving." He drops the bag and takes off his jacket and I lose myself in the sight of his bare forearms for a while. They're so muscular and strong. I know that from experience, the way he held me up against the wall.
"We can order something," I say and grab my phone. "What do you want?"
"How about pizza?"
I smile. "Perfect. Pepperoni?"
"Yes." He leans in to look at the screen and I have to stop myself from just inhaling his clean scent.
"With extra cheese."
"With extra cheese." We both say at the same time.
I finish the order with some cheesy bread. I hesitate for a moment, then I add some chicken wings and mozzarella sticks. Something tells me more food is better with a hockey player at the table.
"What are you watching?" He's spotted the paused show.
"Oh, it's silly." I move to turn it off, but he's already taking a seat on the sofa.
"It's a baking show?"
"Yeah."
"Let's finish the episode."
"We can watch something else."
He shakes his head and pats the sofa next to him. "I need to just sit for a while. This sounds perfectly mindless."
I take a seat next to him and press play. He sinks into the sofa, making himself comfortable and I relax.
When the episode is over, he asks if there's more, so I start the next one. The food arrives and we sit and eat and watch people fail at baking and laugh.
It's not what I was expecting. I didn't realize it would be so easy to hang out with him. He can be such an asshole sometimes. Maybe it's because he's tired from the game. He acts as if he isn't, but I can tell he is.
He polishes off almost all the food, and I'm glad I ordered the extra things. I'll have to remember that he can eat enough for four people. At least after a game.
We start another episode. He hasn't made any move to have sex, except put an arm around my shoulders. I pull up my feet under me and lean against him. He squeezes me closer as he laughs at another failure by the bakers.
"This is hilarious," he says.
"I think it's my favorite thing to watch." I lean my head against his shoulder.
A while later, I laugh at a joke. Wes doesn't, so I look up at him. His head is lulling forward and his eyes are closed.
"Wes?" I untangle myself and turn off the show. "Wes?" I gently shake his shoulder.
"Yes?" He sucks in a breath and sits upright.
"Let's go to bed," I say and get to my feet. "You're tired."
"No, I'm not. I'm just resting a bit."
"Come on." I hold out a hand and he takes it.
"Am I going to have to get you a toothbrush?" I joke as I lead him into the bedroom. I bite my tongue as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
"I have one in my bag," he says and yawns. "I should probably get it."
"The bathroom is down the hall."
He nods and leaves to brush his teeth. In my bathroom. Wes Porter is in my bathroom. It's surreal.
I change into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. It's what I usually sleep in, not very sexy, but he's so tired he probably won't notice if I wear a sack.
"Bathroom is all yours," he says when he returns with his bag. "I figured I should keep this here, in case your sister comes back."
"Sure."
Because anyone finding out about this would be a disaster.
I hurry to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
He's already tucked in when I get back, so I slip in next to him. Immediately, his arm shoots out and pulls me closer.
"I want to have sex with you," he mumbles. "We should do it."
"Sure," I say, and can't help but snuggle closer. "Any minute now."
I suppose I should feel offended that this is the second time he's fallen asleep in my bed without touching me, but I'm not. Instead, I smile as I listen to his steady breathing and drift off to a peaceful sleep in his arms.