Status: one-shot contest entry

Go For Gold

One.

Becca sighed, stuffing her head under the pillow and trying to drown out the noises her neighbor was making with his flavor of the week. The girl, who sadly was a screamer, had been going on and on in her fake-orgasm screams for the last twenty minutes. No guy was that good in bed. Even he had to know she was over-exaggerating.

The worst part about the entire ordeal was that Becca knew what kind of girl he was bringing home depending on the day. If he had a day without a game, it was a loud, voluptuous, chatty blonde. If they won a game, he was brining home whatever girl in the bar wore his jersey the tightest. If they lost a game, he would knock and unlock Becca’s door, grab a beer from her always-stocked fridge and plop his ass down on her couch to watch Jimmy Fallon with her in silence before falling asleep with his head in her lap and her fingers running though his hair.

She baked him those really shitty healthy cookies he pretended to love, made sure that his fridge was fully stocked when he got back from road trips, and accompanied him quietly to team functions that required him to bring a date. The team had become her second family. They knew more about her than she believe he knew. They joked about their “marriage” to her and she obediently laughed along with them. She was the girlfriend that didn’t have a title and she was sick of it.

And Jonathan was oblivious.

Becca let out a frustrated groan and threw the pillow off her head and the blankets off her body, pulling a hoodie over her head and headed to the door. Part of her wanted to ring his doorbell and knock on his door annoyingly until they stopped. Another part of her wanted to turn her stereo up as loud as it could go and face the speakers to their adjoining wall, but that would disrupt all of their other neighbors who actually were asleep.

Instead, she grabbed her keys and headed out into the hallway, shooting his door a dirty look and the flip of her middle finger as she passed, heading to the elevator. Once inside, she pulled her phone out and called Patrick. He was always her go-to when she needed to be out of the building, or needed someone to listen to her vent about how stupid Jon was.

“It’s three in the morning. What…or should I say, who did he do now?” His voice was groggy with exhaustion as it came on the line.

Becca sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know. I missed the whore parade when he brought her home. She’s too loud to even picture.”

He chuckled sleepily. “You’re coming over?”

“Can I?” She looked down to her sweatpants, Nike’s and American Apparel zip-up. Her hair was a mess and she had no make up. Her glasses were on, and she was exhausted. No wonder he was banging the model.

“Mmhmm. I’ll unlock the door.” He hung up and Becca leaned back against the wall. Thank God Kaner only lived down the block. She really didn’t feel like getting her car and could use the walk to clear her head.

Stepping out of the elevator, she walked through the lobby and onto the sidewalk, quickly regretting her choice in wardrobe. The cold Chicago wind whipped at her legs and she cursed Jon’s name even more as she pulled the hood up tight over her head and shoved her hands deep in her pockets, jogging across the street and up the block.

--

Patrick sighed, falling back into the bed after he unlocked the door. Night thirty-seven. The thirty-seventh night Becca had called and asked to stay at his place because Tazer was an outright douche and couldn’t just date the poor girl.

It was night thirty-seven that Patrick had shared his too-large bed with her, listening to her shift uncomfortably. It was night thirty-seven of which Patrick would agree to everything negative she said about him and promise to knock some sense into him at practice.

But more importantly for Patrick, it was night thirty-seven of the girl he had fallen hopelessly in love with laying beside him, in love with someone else, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
He knew what would happen when she walked in, judging by the frost on his window. She would jump in the bed next to him, curl up into his side and push her body against his. She would tell him how stupid Tazer was and how stupid she was being for even liking such a jerk with no regard for women. She would sniffle and nuzzle her nose into his chest before leaning up to kiss his cheek and lay back down, shutting her eyes. He would set his alarm on his phone to wake her up so she could go to work.

He was the Becca to her Tazer.

Hearing the door open, he quickly turned back on his side facing the wall opposite the door. He would fake sleep when she laid down beside him – if he didn’t have to see her , his heart wouldn’t break. He hear her light foot steps as she pushed her shoes off and padded across the carpet, sniffling. That was a cold sniffle. She was cold. He could keep her warm.

Kaner, you’re pathetic. He thought to himself and shut his eyes tight as he heard her approach his door and walk in.

“Pat…?” She whispered, in case he was still asleep. So considerate, he thought. He stirred his body just slightly but stayed “asleep.”

He heard her sigh softly and felt the bed shift as she slid in next to him. He felt her pull the blankets up and to her neck and he opened his eyes just a sliver to watch her. Becca laid her head under the crook of his neck and pulled his arm around her, spooning with him.

Fuck it.

“You’re here…” He opened his eyes and looked her over as his arm stretched and pulled her close. She smelt like warm apples and he smiled softly.

Becca nodded against his shoulder, sighing.“Sorry if I woke you up…”

He shook his head as he kissed the top of hers.“Don’t worry about it. You’re freezing…” He pulled the blanket up higher around them and pulled her close, hoping the heat from his body would warm her quickly.

“Yeah. It’s like, 10 degrees out. Wasn’t expecting the Arctic chill when I left.” She chuckled softly, settling into him.“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Yeah…anytime.” He nodded and shut his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “Waking up at seven tomorrow?” He felt her nod and he leaned back, setting the alarm on his phone. “Don’t expect me to make you breakfast.”

“Don’t expect me to wake up willingly.”

Patrick laughed and pulled her closer, nuzzling his nose into her neck. This is how he would like the world to end. Right here, with her in his arms. “Consider it noted.”

Becca smiled and tucked herself closer to him, and Patrick heard her breathing even out a short while later. She was asleep and protected in his arms. And that’s how she would remain.

--

It was a few days later when Pat and Jon were seated at a booth with some teammates in some no-name bar on the out-skirts of Denver after a win against the Avalanche. Jon’s eyes were scanning the snow-bunnies who were on their ski-trips and Pat…well looked at Jon. “I don’t get you.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the six beers he already had other plans for him.

Jon looked back to him with an eyebrow raised. “Don’t get what?”

“You. You have a banging girl who lives next door to you, who is basically your live in girlfriend, and you haven’t stuck it in her yet.” Pat shook his head, taking another long sip of his beer.

Jon blinked, his cold, captain eyes staring Pat over. “What the fuck are you talking about, Kaner?” His hand reached for the bottle trying to pull it away from his lips but Patrick held tight.

“I’m taking about Becca. She’s…perfect. I don’t understand why you aren’t with her.” He glared back at his captain. “She’s so fucking hung up on you and you don’t even see it.”

“Kaner…” Sharpie’s dad voice came across from the other side of the table. It was not Pat’s place to be talking about Becca’s feelings for Tazer, especially not while drunk and angry.

“No. Don’t ‘Kaner’ me.” He waved his hand dismissively in his direction. “I’ve been trying to, what, almost a fucking YEAR now to make her see that she is worth so much more than waiting on your stupid ass, and you just keep stringing her along and breaking her heart.”

Jon sat beside him, bewildered. He knew Becca wasn’t into him, especially not like that and he didn’t think that he was into her. She was a great friend to have around but was just too…plain for Jon. She was great company; great for a beer or watching The Hangover for the hundredth time. She was great to bring to team functions because she didn’t venture off to fuck one of his teammates in the coat room (like that one girl he brought to the Stanley Cup party. You’re welcome, Steeger.) She was great to come home to after a loss – he needed the silent company and she let him sulk.

Well, yeah, he could now understand why Becca would think he was breaking her heart. “If you want her, take her.” He shrugged. “I’m still running my scouting reports here. You know her number.” He got up from the booth, going after a blonde with shitty Uggs. Those were the easiest to start with.

Pat sat staring at him and shook his head. “He’s such an asshole.”

Sharpie sighed and looked to him. “You can’t go after her, Peeks. I know you want to, but you’re only going to get your heart broken. I don’t need to see that again, not ever. If you can’t take your own advice of ‘forget them and move on,’ you can’t expect her to either…”

“It’s not fair!” Pat slumped back into the booth and peeled at the wrapping of the bottle already curling from the condensation. “He only…He’s looking for something so superficial when he can’t see how good he has it right now with her. Even if I’m not with her…at least he should realize that.”

“And it’s not your place to discuss her feelings without her here to defend her self. You’re going to really regret doing that.” He shook his head, resuming his conversation with Duncan and Brent.

He didn't.

--

So, Kaner has this weird idea that you’re in love with me.

Kill him. Becca was going to kill him. Slice his body into pieces and hang them from various rafters in the United Center. Sighing, she opened the message and stared at it for a minute. “Yes, I love you. But you’re an ass. And so is Kaner. But you know, it’s totally cool. Enjoy your Chlamydia!”

Shaking her head, she replied. Who wouldn’t be? Lol Kaner’s an idiot. Consider the source.

She had to play it off. It wasn’t fair to make things weird, not when he counted on her for things his flavors of the week couldn’t provide. It was barely a few seconds later when her phone vibrated in her lap.

Thought so. That was gonna be a really awk conversation if you were. lol

Why? Why was it going to be awkward? Because she wasn’t his ideal vision?

Probably. But, at least we both know you’re in love with me so….

Becca stared down at the blue bubble and realized she actually sent it. And he was already replying if the cloud with three dots was an indicator. Didn’t he have a practice to be at? Or some other random to hit up?

Oh you know it. No one compares 2 U!

Her heart skipped a beat. In order to torture herself more, she pressed the buttons to screen-shot the message and saved it. This was so stupid.

That is the correct answer.

Putting her phone down next to her, Becca sat back on the couch, looking her condo over, trying to calm herself down before unloading on Patrick. What the hell was he thinking; going and telling Jon that she liked him, no, LOVED him. That was none of his business. Shaking her head, her phone buzzed again next to her

I thought so. But would it be so crazy if we dated?

Wait. What? Becca re-read the message again and again trying to think of what to say back. She started typing her reply before it buzzed in her hand.

Sry. Sharpie stole my phone. He’s a dick x 2

Oh. She deleted the message she was typing and replied. lol nice way to talk about your teammates, Captain.

Crushed. If there was one word to describe how Becca felt it was ‘crushed.’ She needed to move out of the building. No, the city. No, the country. Fuck it, she was moving off the planet.

Turning her phone off and saving herself from any more disappointment, at least tonight, sounded like the best idea she ever had. Until she heard a knock on the door. Dear God, please help whoever was on the other side of that wooden plank.

Getting up, she pulled her hair into a pony-tail atop her head and opened the door, raising a brow. Before her was a curvaceous brunette, holding what she assumed to be an over-night bag. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, Jon was supposed to leave me a key, but I guess he forgot. He said to come borrow your spare one.” She smiled, looking the girl over triumphantly.

“Well he didn't tell me you were coming and I'm not giving out his key. Sorry.” Becca shrugged, leaning against the door frame. “Anything else?”

“Why can't you just give me the key?” the girlfriend huffed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

"I'm so fucking done with you stupid ass hoe's walking all up in this building, parading around your disease ridden asses to the upscale, classy people in this building. You're all a bunch of fucking idiots. That bag means nothing more than maybe scrambled eggs in the morning, which don't worry, he's going to burn because the mother fucker can't figure out you can't turn everything up to High. Don't know you. Don't care to know you. You're not getting the key.” Becca nodded, closing the door and walked back into her living room. That was the last straw.

She was done waiting for Jonathan to get over his bimbos. This was it. She was going to get her revenge.



It was another night laying beside Patrick after there was a series of Morse-code repetitions being pounded against the adjoining wall.

Becca stretched and opened her eyes slowly to the sun light smiling. That was the only good dream she had had in months. She felt a weight around her waist, looking down, she saw an arm wrapped around her. Almost panicking, she followed the arm to its owner, then giggled to herself.

Patrick Kane and that crazy curly head of hair were sound asleep next to her. Becca could only imagine, if his hair looked that out of place, what in God's name hers looked like. She sighed deeply, feeling more than comfortable cuddled up next to him. They fit together. Though, it was weird to be sleeping next to one of her best friends, wondering what it would be like sleeping beside his best friend.

She knew what everyone would think. That she was only using Patrick to get back at Jon. And maybe she should, because many they were right. Maybe she should flaunt around with Patrick, make sure some one had seen them, and make sure it got back to Jon. It would hurt her, and Patrick in the end, but Patrick had to forgive her. They were “besties.”

But she shouldn't do that to Patrick. He was a sweet heart to her, and how could she ruin the friendship they had. They weren't in a relationship, but their friendship was strong enough. And now stronger than ever.

Becca turned over to face him completely and study him. The way his eyelashes fell against his cheeks, the way his hair framed his face, the way his nose twitched when he snored lightly, the way his mouth remained open just a bit. Becca found her heart start to flutter. She wasn't supposed to feel this way about him. But she started to think that it went more than just friendship.

"Becks, stop staring at me." Patrick smiled and opened his eyes, looking at her, scaring Becca, almost making her fall out of the bed.

"I hate you Patrick Timothy Kane, I hate you and hope you die." Becca said, laughing and shoving him lightly.

Patrick, with his arm still wrapped around her, pulled her close and hugged her tightly, cuddling her closer to him. "But who would you cuddle with if I died?" He pouted.

"I'll buy a puppy." Becca said, scrunching her nose. "I'll buy a puppy, and name it Patrick, and it will be blonde and have long hair and it's gonna chase it's tail around everywhere.  Then I wont have to miss you that much."

"Aww, you would miss me?" Patrick said, his eyes lighting up.

"No, not really." Becca said smiling. "Of course I would!" She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, Patrick, unknowingly moving his head slightly, making Becca's attempted cheek kiss collide with his lips. They both laid there, unsure of what to do, but not moving their lips from each others.

Patrick moved first, but instead of pulling away, added pressure against hers, surprised that she allowed it, and matched him. Becca couldn't help what happened next. She opened her mouth, running her tongue along the seam of his lips until he opened his in return. Their tongues slid against each other, hot and wet, frustrated and desperate.

Patrick pulled her closer to him, deepening the already passionate kiss, and pulled her under him.

Becca was shocked. Her mind went from still kind of sleepy to complete and total shock and awake. In the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't be doing this, but if felt so right. Patrick shifted his weight and crawled on top of her, his excitement of the situation pressing into her inner thigh. Becca swallowed hard, the situation going from bad to worse.

His hands traveled under her shirt, running his hands up her sides over her ribs, and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over her head, before recapturing her lips in his. Becca was kind of mad knowing that he was already shirtless, but her hands busied themselves in his hair, running her fingers through it as he traveled his kisses from her mouth to her neck.

Patrick pulled back slowly, looking at her deep into her eyes. "Are you sure you are okay with this?" he asked, licking his lips and searching her face for an answer. Becca swallowed hard, and nodded.  Patrick smiled. "Good. Cause I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time."

He resumed his place on her neck and his hands traveled down her body resting at the hem of her pajama pants, slowly pulling them down, and off of her, her hips grinding against his as she lifted her bottom half to aid him in his efforts. Groaning into her lips, Patrick's hands reached behind her, and grabbed a hold of the clasp of her bra and unsnapping it, sliding the straps off her shoulders slowly, and kissing the newly revealed flesh as he did so.

Becca's hands shakily found their way to his boxers and slowly pushed them off his hips. And she froze. Her hands trembling against his skin.

"Patrick........" Becca whispered.

"Mmmmm?" was his reply, as he was still buried in her neck.

"........I can't do this." Becca blurted out, and Patrick paused. He slowly pulled away from her, looking into her eyes. "No no, Its not you. I mean. I like you. A lot. But I....I cant...I just....its still ...you know?"

Patrick nodded, though he didn't fully understand. "Yeah, Bec, don't worry about it." He kissed her sweetly. "It's okay. I shouldn't expect you to be...this."

Becca looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Hey now, don't be sorry. When you're ready. I'm here." He kissed her deeply, though not only was he going to have to get rid of his excitement in another way, but he was kind of hurt. "Come on, I'll take you to breakfast to make up for it." He crawled off of her and pulled up his boxers and walking into the bathroom. "Be ready in....20 minutes. Go."

He shut the door and Becca sighed quietly, looking over to her night table, where a picture of Patrick and Jonathan sat holding the Stanley Cup, taunting her in its perfectly shiny silver frame. She reached over and turned it down, their faces to the wood of the night table.

She shouldn't have stopped him. But she felt like she was getting revenge on Jon. And she didn't want to do that to either of them. She crawled out of bed, and began getting ready for the days outings.

---

They lost. Badly. An 8-1 game to Vancouver was like a serrated butcher knife right through the heart and Jon wanted nothing more than to curl up on Becca's couch and sit in silence.

Kaner didn't wait for him when he was leaving which was odd, but whatever. He wasn't in the mood for his bad jokes anyway. He dealt with the media, took his shower, got the ass-ripping from Coach Q and took the drive home in silence. Getting into the building, he headed to his floor and by-passed his door, going to open hers.

Locked. Weird.

On game nights, especially losses, she never locked her door. Listening quietly, thinking maybe she wasn't home, he heard the TV on and shrugged, digging in his dress pants for his keys and pulled hers out, unlocking the door. The sight that was bestowed upon him was something he didn't expect.

Kaner was laying with his head in her lap. They were watching Jimmy Fallon and her fingers were brushing through his hair. Much like they would have been his.

“Oh...sorry.... I didn't know you had company...”

What the hell was his chest doing tightening up into his throat? Was he just irrational angry about the loss? The knife to the heart of the loss didn't hurt as bad as the two sets of eyes who slowly moved in his direction.

“Hey....you want a beer?” Becca questioned quietly, still stroking Kaner's head as his eyes shut again.

Jon shook his head. He remembered the weight of her hand on his head. He remembered the smell of her body wash from the shower she must have taken before he would always arrive. He remembered how her body would jolt softly in laughter, not to disrupt him as he laid on her.

This wasn't anger. This was jealousy.

“I...you didn't stay.” His words were directed to Kaner who opened an eye back to him.

“Yeah. Didn't wanna deal with the media tonight. Plus, there were girlfriend head scratches waiting at home.” He shrugged and a small, sleepy smile played on his face.

Girlfriend? No. This was Jon's live-in girlfriend. She was supposed to take care of him. She was only supposed to be around for him.

Then it hit him. Patrick Kane was right. He was too self-involved in the revolving door of women who came and went that he failed to notice in enough time how good he had it right on that couch. And Patrick took advantage of that situation.

Nodding, Jon turned and headed back to the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving the new couple to their alone time. It hurt a lot to lose the game. It hurt even more to lose the girl you didn't even realize you had.