Turning Tables

“You brought me to work on a Friday night?” I asked Tyler as he dragged me by the hand down the alley that led to the side door of the Garden.

“Not work, dummy,” he replied. “Will you just shut up and come inside?” He took his keys out of his pockets and found the right one, sliding it into the lock and turning it. I thought it would stick, but in one fluid motion, Tyler had the door opened.

“We can’t go in there!” I hissed, looking around. I did not want to get arrested.

“Sure we can. See?” He stepped inside, proving that indeed, we could. I followed hurriedly, shutting the door behind me in case anyone happened to be looking our way. I was consumed by the darkness, and panic and fear of the dark made my heartbeat triple.

“Tyler?” I called into the darkness. I felt around, and relief flooded me when his hand found mine again. I held on tightly to his warm hand, still unsure of what I was feeling. “You knew I’d be at the restaurant.”

It was a fact, and he knew it.

“I did.”

“Why did you go there?” I asked, still walking in the dark after him.

“I wanted to see you.” Again, no hesitation.

“Why did you make my Dad that promise?“

“Cause I plan on keeping it.”

“Oh,” was my intelligent response. But really, what could I say?

“Here,” Tyler eased me to a stop, and we walked through another door. He turned the lights on, and I blinked at the assault on my eyes. We were in the locker room. “I used to do this all time. It was the most fun I ever had. Not while drunk.”

“Breaking and entering?”

“God, you’re annoying,” he said, smiling. He took my hand again and I followed him into a tunnel that eventually opened up.

The rink. That’s where we were headed.

We stepped into the player’s box and I looked around at the many, many seats overlooking the ice. They were eerily empty and dark, the only light coming from the locker room behind us.

“Wait here.” A second later, the lights came on. Not all of them, but enough to illuminate the ice in a warm glow. He came back, two sticks and a puck in his hands.

“No,” I shook my head. I had a pretty good idea where this was going, and I wanted no part in this.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.

…..

“Absolutely not,” Lucy laughed, shaking her head back and forth, causing her hair to swing and shine under the lights.

“You afraid I’ll kick your ass?” I smirked, hopping onto the ice.

She raised her eyebrows. “No, I’m afraid I’ll beat you so bad you’ll lose all confidence in yourself. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that.” She took off my jacket and placed it on the bench. Then, she daintily climbed over the waist high wall, gingerly stepping onto the ice. I watched her, surprised at how easily she had accepted the challenge.

Despite her defiance, I could tell she was nervous. Pushing herself off of the wall, she took a few hesitant steps, smiling when she didn’t immediately fall. She came back over to me, leaning in close.

“Stick,” she demanded.

“This one?” I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressing myself against her.

She smirked. “That one’s for later.” Grabbing a hockey stick from my hand, she moved away to center ice, where she got into face off position. I laughed.

This was going to be good.

Still holding the puck, I crouched down, facing her. She was trying hard not to laugh.

“Quit stalling, Seguin,” she commanded, her stick up and poised. I had to hand it to her, she was really trying.

“Okay, get ready.” I let the puck drop, and gave her a few seconds to make her move. She shrieked as the puck hit the ice, and swung her stick high and wide.

Slap! And the puck was whizzing off towards the side of the rink. She chased after hit, me hot on her tail.

“I can’t stop!” She screamed before careening into the wall of the rink. Laughing, she pushed off after the puck, which had bounced off in the other direction. I stood in her way, and she crashed right into me.

“Penalty!” I shouted.

“You ran into me!”

“By just standing here?” I scoffed. “No way. I get a shot.” I navigated the ice and claimed the puck, setting it up as she moved towards the goal, pouting.

“I hope you miss!” She yelled from her end by the goal.

“Not a chance,” I replied. Her eyes followed me as I slid and skated towards her, juggling the puck back and forth along the way. My shoes would probably be ruined, but I didn’t care.

“Stop! You’re coming too close!” She laughed, stick on the ice.

I took aim, and fired hard.

“Ah!” She ducked, as if the puck was headed for her instead of the goal, and it slid in neatly on the right. She glanced back, noticing the puck inside the netted goal. “Impressive.”

I moved closer, stopping right up to her. “That was pathetic.”

She shrugged. “I’m not the professional hockey player. You’re being unfair.”

I stared into her brown eyes, studying her features. The tip of her nose and her cheeks were a rosy pink from the cold and her skin glowed under the dim lights. I leaned in and lightly touched my lips to hers.

“Penalty,” she said huskily.

“What?”

She smiled coyly. “You can’t KISS another player. That’s gotta be worth at least an HOUR in the penalty box.” She roared with laughterat her own joke as I scolded, chasing after her as she moved away not so gracefully. “No, now I get a shot!” She pushed me towards the goal, where I retrieved the puck and sent it her way. Her stick barely stopped it from going past her.

“Go for it,” I challenged. She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh god,” she moaned. “This is gonna be bad.” She bent down and scooped up the puck.

“Hey!” I called out. Slowly, she made her way to the goal, puck in hand. I watched her expectantly. This was definitely cheating on a whole other level.

With several yards left, Lucy stopped. “Look! A monkey!” She pointed up, and I stupidly followed her gaze.

I turned back. “Nice one,” I said dryly the same moment she came barreling at me, knocking both of us down and into the net.

“Goooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllll!” Lucy screamed, giggling uncontrollably on top of me. We were a tangle of limps half in the net, half out. “Pretty sure I won this game.”
…..

“Pretty sure you cheated, um…” Tyler knitted his brows, deep in contemplation. “Oh, maybe five times?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Seguin,” I whispered, my lips close to his. He felt warm and sturdy underneath me. I loved the feeling.

“I’m not,” he stated matter of factly. “I’m the winner.” I smiled and studied the shape of his beautiful, kissable lips.

“They liked you,” I said with wonder, still a little surprised at how well Tyler had gotten along with my family. Especially Dad, who didn’t like boys, specifically boys that liked his baby girl. But the two had talked more than Dad ever did with some of my high school friends.

“Does that surprise you?” he asked quietly, staring intently into my eyes, as if he was afraid of the answer.

I smiled at him reassuringly. “No,” I admitted. “Because I kind of like you.”

I lowered my head, pressing my smiling lips to his, which mirrored mine. I pushed my hands into his hair, running it between my cold fingers. He wrapped his strong arms around me, pressing me to him. Even though we were on the ice, I felt amazingly warm.

“Hold on,” he murmured into my hair. He gently sat me up, and pulled us both into standing positions. He led me off the ice and back into the locker room. I silently followed him up the stairs, where he pressed me against the wall and kissed me urgently.

Then we were on the move again in the total blackness. Tyler moved with sure and confident steps, and I followed him, trusting him completely. We stepped out into the empty hallway, where all the concessions stands were. I followed him to a door, and we entered a VIP viewing suite.

I smiled as we made our way past the bar to the sofa against the wall. I took in the view of the empty ice rink below as he swept me on top of him, straddling him as he sat back on the couch.

….

We kissed feverishly, arms and legs wrapped around each other. I kissed her neck, suckling gently as she moaned.

“You don’t hate me?” I murmured, thinking about the last time we made love and she declared her hatred for me.

“Mmmmm,” she groaned as my lips moved along her jaw. “I. Like. You. A lot.”

As I pulled her sweater off over her head and took in the beautiful girl in front of my eyes, I couldn’t help but agree with her. I liked her, too. A lot.

In fact, ‘like’ didn’t seem like a strong enough word for how I felt about her.

My hands found the clasp on her bra and unhooked it, and replaced the fallen garment as it fell to the floor.

“Oh,” she cried as my cold hands made contact with her bare skin. I moved my palms against her, warming us both up. Her skilled fingers removed the buttons of my shirt one by one.

“You’re not gonna rip them off this time?” She smiled, and I bit her lower lip, running my tongue across it. I felt her tongue graze mine, and I reciprocated. She pressed her hips into mine, grounding herself closer to me. I worked at unbuttoning her jeans as she worked on mine, and we laughed, as it became a ridiculous race to see who could undo the other’s jeans first.

She got up on her knees and I slid her jeans down. She sat down, legs in the air so I could free her jeans. I did gladly, standing up so I could take my own jeans off. I sat back down, and she climbed on top of me.

Arms tight around each other, we moved as one, getting closer and closer to the edge. We never broke eye contact as we struggled to stay on the precipice. Finally, we both jumped. She uttered my name and I cried out as the thrill of the fall overwhelmed us.

We laid on the sofa, and her back was to me as I hugged her tight. I’d never felt so close to someone before. She felt warm and small in my arms, and I felt like I was right where I was supposed to me.

Suddenly, I heard my phone’s ringtone. I reached around for it without shifting the comfortable position we were in. I found it, stuffed between the cushions.

Glancing down at the name and accompanying picture, I froze.

“Who is it?” Lucy murmured.

“No one,” I replied, as Ciara Price’s name shone in my face and her picture smiled down at me.