Smokeshow: A Hockey Love story Read online

  “You are no longer a bachelor. You can't just chug from the bottle like that. Use a cup.”

  “What are ya, the etiquette police?” He shakes his head but he’s chuckling.

  “You have to teach the kids good behaviors.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  I suck in a breath, then shut my mouth, pursing my lips to one side. “I will give you that this apartment is really, really tidy. For a single man, and an athlete. I expected it to smell like feet.”

  His lips quirk at this. “Really? Am I a smelly guy?”

  “No.” I love the way you smell. And now, I love the way you kiss and wish we hadn’t stopped.

  “Well, then…” He shrugs. “I grew up in squalor, Zo. I learned to be quite OCD about cleaning at a very young age.”

  There doesn’t seem to be anything to say to that. “I—I'm sorry. For pushing you away just now. Are you surprised to hear I'm a virgin?”

  He licks his lips and gives me a cocky look. “Kind of. Not really? I don’t know. I try not to make assumptions about things like that, but you’ve never seemed like someone who was easy. It caught me off guard, but mainly because I was in a bit of a haze. You really turned me on.”

  I feel my cheeks heat for like the ninetieth time in the past hour. “Well, I feel the same.”

  He steps forward, putting his hand on my cheek. The way he looks down at me, it pools like electricity in my belly, a dark spark of magic that I just have never felt before with anyone else I've dated. I've found men attractive, sure, but never have I wanted to go this far.

  “I r-really care about you, Tyler.” My voice has a breathless quality to it that's embarrassing. “I always had this vision…that I would find a prince charming type. I never felt connected to other guys and I thought it was because there was this one perfect guy out there waiting for me.”

  “And I’m not that guy?” He has a sly grin on his handsome face. “You sure?”

  “I'm not sure of anything right now. But you really are my best friend. You have become my best friend and I think…I trust you. I think I would be okay if it was you who took my virginity.”

  His laugh is one of surprise. He leans in to kiss me and I am surprised at how feral I get. I pull him close, parting my lips as he picks me up and sits me on the kitchen counter, his cock straining behind his jeans once more as he pushes himself in between my legs. My fingertips dig into his back. I have no self-control right now.

  Abruptly though, he pulls away from me, running his hands through his hair and stabbing me with an intense gaze. “Woman, you are gonna be the damn death of me.”

  “I just said—”

  “I know what you said. But for one, I’m probably literally the worst guy in the world for a nice girl like you to lose your virginity to. And second, I don’t want you to just be okay with losing your virginity to me. That sounds like, 'I like brussels sprouts okay when they’re cooked the right way.' That’s not sexy.”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” I push my lips out in a pout.

  Tyler levels me with that dark look he sometimes gets. “Look, Smokeshow, if and when we make love, I'd want it to be so good for you. I’d want it to be very special for you, and I’d want you to feel safe. But more than that, I’d want you dripping wet and screaming for it. I’d want you thinking of nothing else other than how badly you want me inside you.”

  I can’t stop the gasp that erupts at his beautiful, sexy words. The look on his face. The way his cock still strains beneath his jeans. My nipples go hard and my mouth dry as I pant to breathe in oxygen. Now I understand the slang term “thirsty.” Yes, I am totally thirsty for Tyler Lockhardt.

  “There you go,” Tyler says, proud of himself. “So you see, Zoya Kolochev, that we have some work to do.”

  “Sexy work?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. But also, I need you to know I care about you, too. As more than a friend, just so we’re clear. You mean more to me than just a quick and dirty fuck, and I won’t take it for granted. I want you in my life. You’re gorgeous, yes, but also caring and supportive and smart. You make me feel calmer, more steady. I’m so glad we’re friends. And I wouldn’t give that up for the world.”

  Swoon.

  I have to take a deep breath to steady myself. His words go straight to my head, to my heart, to my core. I’d want you thinking of nothing else other than how badly you want me inside you. Alongside those words. My body is a live wire. I'm ready to begin my education right now.

  It shouldn't come as a surprise to me though. I've made myself come while thinking of him before. More times than I care to admit. I’ve tried to box in my attraction to Tyler, to keep it limited to the times when I'm alone in my room. But here it is, and now that the box is open? It's so much harder to close down than it ever was before.

  “Wow. You admit you care for a woman and that friendship is more important than sex, and you have custody of your brother and sister all in one week. Are you growing up, Tyler?”

  “God, I hope not,” he says with a laugh that turns into a yawn. “And I didn’t say friendship is more important than sex. I said I wouldn’t give up our friendship for the world. You are such a surprise to me, Zoya. A beautiful, wonderful, amazing surprise. I had no clue that anyone like you even existed in the world, let alone could be my friend. You came out of fuckin’ nowhere and into my life... and now I need you in it.

  Wow. I never expected to hear those words from Tyler’s lips. About me. I do not know what to do with them right now. Say thank you? Acknowledge I think I might feel the same way, even though I’ve never had sex? Question more?

  “Okay then. You need a nap?”

  He nods and yawns again, so I hop down and take his hand, leading him back to the couch. He lies down and then I do, too, his arm draped over my midsection as we spoon, our bodies molding perfectly together before we drift off.

  So very perfectly.

  * * *

  When I wake up, I’m on my back and Tyler is nowhere to be found. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and then checking my phone, which is on the table. I've missed a study session with Jay. The realization gives me a flutter of anxiety. First, because I really should have been studying today. Second, because I had possibly given Jay the impression we might go on a date. And now it feels wrong, like I would be hurting Tyler if I did. But Tyler is not my boyfriend, right? He's still just my friend and I still don’t want to date someone so immersed in hockey. And then there's my sister's obsession with sleeping with him hanging over my head.

  What to do, what to do…

  I hear Tyler’s voice and follow it back to the kitchen, where he’s talking on the phone and eating lunch meat out of the package, the open bottle of orange juice back out on the counter. I hear him say, “See you later,” and then he ends his call, giving me a lazy smile.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Good nap?”

  “Great,” I say, suddenly feeling shy with him. “You?”

  “Just what I needed. ’Til my pocket kept vibrating. It was Vik.”

  “Vik?”

  “Viktor. Demoskev?”

  I shake my head.

  “Big fucker? Plays crash-hockey on defense with me? Played Olympic hockey with your own brother? Not ringing a bell at all?”

  “I don’t really follow hockey.” I shrug. “Sorry.”

  “Well, he got in a fistfight with your brother a few years ago and it was all over the damn news.”

  “Oh! I do think I know who you're talking about. His wife had a baby boy at the party, right? Pam was obsessed with him.”

  “Yes. He’s my friend. Married a girl in the PR department. Third player in a row to break the fabled non-fraternization policy. Though, to be honest, that policy’s a fuckin’ joke. Literally no one adheres to it.”

  “Do you have relationships with the staff?” I can’t stop myself from asking, and I blush again. I vow that I must learn to stop this blushing thing right this instant.

  “Do you mean
am I fucking anyone who is currently on staff at the Crush? No. I am not. Though I do go out with some of the sales staff sometimes.”

  “Oh.” I want to ask if he’s seeing anyone else, but I cannot bring myself to ask that question. Plus, it will look childish. Jealous. And I have no right to be jealous with him at all.

  “So what did your friend Viktor want?”

  “He and Scarlett are helping me find a nanny for the kids while I’m at work or on the road. They’re interviewing a couple of people for me because I don’t know shit about what to look for in a person like that. Viktor told me Scarlett actually said I’d probably look for the best-looking nanny so I could fuck her, can you believe that shit?”

  “Well...” I raise a shoulder.

  He clucks his tongue at me. “I would never.”

  I make a dubious noise and he glares at me.

  “They’re saving my life, here. Helping me get the kids into a private school where other players’ kids go. There’s a preschool for Logan and a first grade for Haley. Nanny will come every morning to help get them ready for school, get them dropped off, then pick them up until I get home.”

  “Sounds perfect. What nice friends.”

  “Yeah,” he says, looking away and swallowing. I think he is struggling not to show emotion. In that way, he is like my brother and father. But he manages to push it down. “I’m just happy they’ll have some normalcy in their lives for a bit. A routine. Children’s Services said Haley had poor attendance at her school in Boston, and Logan was never registered for preschool. I guess Haley was often home taking care of Logan. How fucked up is that? She’s six.”

  My heart breaks for the two sweet kids asleep in the bedroom only feet away from us. “This is a good thing you are doing.”

  “I hope. I hope they don’t just go right back to that shithole of a situation,” he says sharply. “Fuck, it makes me so angry. I don’t think Haley is even reading yet and Logan seems really fuckin’ lost, poor little guy.”

  “Well, maybe after the park we can go out and get the kids some books and puzzles tonight. And let them pick out some things to make the room their own?”

  “Good idea,” he says, stepping forward to pull me into a hug. “Thanks again for bein’ here. I needed it.”

  I needed it too, though.

  * * *

  As we walk toward the entrance of the store, Logan’s little hand firmly in mine, Haley asks, “Are you sure you’re not my brother’s wife?”

  “Pretty sure,” I say with a smile down at her cute face looking up at me. “I think I would remember getting married.”

  “Come on, now,” Tyler says, picking her up and setting her on his hip. “You know Zoya is just my really good friend. We talked about this.”

  “Well she acts like she lives with you,” Haley says.

  “I live on campus, in a dorm room,” I answer. “I'm just a college student, too young to get married.”

  “Well, not technically,” Tyler mutters. “I mean, you’re an adult…”

  I roll my eyes. “Not helpful, Ty.”

  “I think you’d be a pretty wife,” Haley announces.

  “I agree,” Tyler says.

  I ignore them both and head toward the book section of the store.

  * * *

  Once we return to Tyler’s place, the kids ask if they can watch cartoons. Tyler says they can, for a little while, but then they need to take baths and read stories, and then go to bed. He tries to explain the time difference, but they don’t get it.

  While they watch shows, I spread out my statistics textbook, notes, and calculator. I have an important project due in three days and I'm way behind. Ty helps me sort out my research and put it into a spreadsheet. From there, we work through the details of the project and I can’t believe how much better I understand it when he explains it to me.

  Each time our eyes meet, there is a new spark there, a growing of this thing that is happening between us. It causes me some internal anxiety, to be honest. Initially, I saw him as a party boy, a womanizer, a crude hockey boy with no heart. It was easy to ignore him, to turn him down. But now? Now I want to kiss him. A lot. And I know how generous his heart is, how hard he's worked to get away from the life he had as a child. I see how much he wants to keep Logan and Haley away from that life. How much guilt he feels about how they have lived so far.

  I came here looking to get as far away from hockey as possible. When I was in Russia, the hockey players always cat-called and leered at me and Irina. My sister was always loud about it, giving them the finger, shouting insults at them. I tried to dress as nondescript as possible. I'd put in earbuds and listen to music the whole time I was in the arena, just to keep from hearing it. The boys were vile and rude, and I didn't want to be around them.

  My brother’s behavior was just as bad, and I knew that was the culture. These were not men for me, and I wanted nothing to do with any of them. Despite Irina’s feminist outlook, she tolerated these men. Wanted them. And hated them equally. For me, I was sick of the boys and their words and the culture on and off the ice. I needed to see that there were men out there who believed being a gentleman wasn’t a weakness. Who believed deference to women didn’t make them less of a man. Who saw that sweet words and kindness showed respect. That’s all I wanted. And now? Now I'm here, at Tyler’s kitchen table, crushing hard on the biggest hockey boy of them all. He has a reputation as a manwhore—shameless—something that's publicly splattered around the Internet. And while I believe he cares about me in his way, I don’t know if it's in the way I want or deserve. I don’t know if it would last, or if he's just trying to make a conquest of me.

  I didn’t want to feel this way, but I do. I care about him too much and maybe I just need to close the box back up, admit I had a moment of weakness, and go back to being his friend. And then, more than possibly, watch him kiss and touch other women, knowing that I could have had that if I wanted. Knowing his body would never be a part of mine.

  We finish my statistics and I tell him I should get home. At the door, I give him a brief kiss on the cheek. His eyes search mine and the confession just tumbles out of me. “I don't know if we should let this go further.”

  He swallows. Nods. “Sure. Whatever you want, Smokeshow.”

  “It’s just…I care for you very much. More than I planned. I'm in school and you are a professional athlete, but I still want to be your friend. I still will be your friend, for anything you need. But maybe we shouldn’t…” I leave it hanging, a question, an implication.

  “I hear you. It’s fine. I meant what I said earlier. You mean the world to me. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  “Thank you, friend,” I whisper.

  He lets out a bitter sounding laugh but kisses me on the top of my head before saying goodnight and shutting the door.

  It feels like a wall coming down and the hot tears sting my eyes. I want to slap myself. I'm the one who did this, who put up this barrier. Why the hell am I crying?

  Pretty sure I know that answer, because Ty had shown me he was a gentleman…albeit a gentleman who kissed like a demon. He’d shown me respect, with sweet words and so much kindness. He’s turned his life around for two small humans who desperately needed love in their lives.

  I think I'm falling in love with Tyler Lockhardt.

  If I haven't already.

  Twenty-Two

  Tyler

  DON’T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME

  It’s pregame at home, my first game since coming back from Boston. I’m excited to be back, but more excited that the kids finally get to see me play. I wave to them from the ice during warmup, the nanny in between them with an armload of snacks. They wave back and the camera catches them, putting their images on the jumbotron for a moment. Nanny Patricia—who’s pushing sixty and in zero danger of ever being hit on by me—points it out and their grins grow huge on their little faces as they see themselves larger-than-life on the screen.

  Oddly, that moment of happi
ness carries me, and we have a damn good game, holding two first-period goals all the way through for a shutout.

  So here’s the rub. Having the kids with me means a very different post-game celebration than before. Like, I’d like to go to a club, get a little dirty dancin’ on, and then have some meaningless sex with someone who looks absolutely nothing like Zoya Kolochev. Seriously, can’t get her or the feel of her lips, or the heat of her body off my goddamn mind. All we did was kiss. I copped a feel over the top of her bra. Even high schoolers would say that’s nothing. But it was hot, and I felt connected to her in ways I’ve never felt with anyone else. And then she called me her friend again and walked out. And I’ve been a wreck ever since.

  And because of that, I need a fast and dirty fuck. I’ve jacked off countless times to thoughts of her. Blasting the cannon doesn’t help, unfortunately. I think I need to get laid to get her out of my head. But I can’t do it tonight, because I’m having dinner in a family-friendly establishment. With my four- and six-year-old siblings.

  Pam, Georg, Viktor, Scarlet, and Irina all join us at some seizure-inducing place with strobe lights and blinking games and loud noises. And chicken fingers. The kids wanted chicken fingers so now we have a table full of them.

  Well, there’s more than chicken fingers. There’s milkshakes and other various items that our nutritionist would cringe over.

  Georg and Logan are off playing a video game together, while Pam colors a picture with Haley. Scarlett has baby Alex strapped to her in some odd-looking wrap that looks complicated, though she seems totally relaxed as she talks to Irina about the #MeToo movement.

  “I mean, I worked in the casinos,” Scarlett is saying. “Getting my ass grabbed or having some jerk saying something obnoxious to me was pretty much a daily occurrence.”

  Irina has her stool pulled up close to mine, her hand on my leg. There’s nothing sexual about it, but there is somewhat of an assumption of comfort level that I’m not sure I have with her. Not like I have with Zoya. I don’t move away, though. Honestly, Zoya put me in the zone. I’m horny, free game and Irina doesn’t come with strings, so...