Strictly Roommates

Things were back to normal between Jon and Penelope. The Blackhawks were in the Stanley Cup Finals against the Boston Bruins, so Jon spent most of his time at the rink and at the gym. Game 5 was tonight at the United Center, and the Blackhawks were up 3-1 in the series. Tonight, they had the chance to relive history.

“You’re gonna be great, you always are.” Penelope said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Jon sighed. He tried to brush off his recent scoring drought, trying to focus on being an all-around good player and an even better captain. Yet it still bruised his ego, and scoring a goal would give him that momentum he needed to power his team to a Stanley Cup tonight. “Are you coming to the game?”

“Are you serious? Of course. I have my Kaner jersey all ironed and ready to go.” Penelope smirked.

Jon glared at her. “Kaner’s not gonna be the one sharing the Cup with you on his cup day, I am. You better think twice about wearing a Kaner jersey.”

Penelope laughed. “Relax, Jon. I’ll be there, in my Toews jersey. Just like I am every game.” She kneaded her fingers into Jon’s shoulders. “Damn, you’re tense. I really, really hope you guys win tonight. You seriously need a vacation. Preferably somewhere with a hot tub.”

Jon closed his eyes. The idea of a hot tub sounded marvelous right now, but he knew he had to focus on the game. One more win, and his life would change forever. Again.

He stood up and walked to his room. “I’m gonna take my nap, see you at the game?”

She smiled. “I’ll be there. Good luck, Jon. Kick some Bruins ass. Especially Seguin, that guy is sooo cocky in bed.”

Jon scrunched up his nose. Penelope slept with Seguin? This was new. “I don’t even want to know why you were in bed with a Bruin, let alone Seguin.”

Penelope laughed. “Long story. Let’s just say he can be very persuasive and attractive after an entire bottle of tequila…”

Jon shook his head and climbed into his bed. Focus. All he had to do was be his best for 60 minutes and the cup could be his again.

-Later That Night-

Penelope sat on the couch, biting her nails nervously. The Blackhawks had blown it. They had a 2-1 lead, with a minute remaining in the game. Fans were starting to stand up and cheer. She could feel the officials prepare to put the cup in Jonathan’s arms. Then with 10 seconds left, the Bruins scored. Fucking Seguin. Then in overtime, Bergeron put one past Crawford and just like that, the game was headed to Boston, and Jon was headed home with no cup. Should she wait for him to come home? Or go out and avoid the foul mood that she knew Jon was going to bring home with him? She couldn’t decide.

After waiting around the apartment for two hours, Penelope glanced at the clock. It was 1 am, and Jon was probably taking his anger out on Lindsey’s headboard. She yawned lazily. It had been a long, long time since she’s had good sex. In the past month, she had been on a handful of mediocre dates, followed by nights of lackluster sex. Sometimes it was almost better not have it at all then to get some that leaves you wanting more. As if on cue, her phone beeped.

Dave: You still awake?

Penelope smiled. She met Dave a few months back when she went to a local bar with the Blackhawks to celebrate a win. He had a hot, hot body, and the two of them had amazing sex. Too bad he had a brain the size of a pea, or she would have considered taking their relationship to the next level. But from time to time, they still hooked up. They were friends with benefits, fuck buddies, or whatever they were calling it these days.

Penelope: Yup, what are you up to?

Dave: At home, getting ready for bed. But then this distraction in my pants made me think of you. I was hoping you could help me take care of it…

Penelope: I’ll see what I can do ;)

Dave: Captain Serious not pouring his heart out to you after that shitty loss?

Penelope: Nope, he’s got a girlfriend for that.

Dave: Well I’m glad, because I was really hoping I could pour, not my heart, but something sweet and sticky all over you…

Penelope blushed. Damn, Dave had perfect timing. A mindless fuck was exactly what she needed.

Penelope: I’ll be over soon. Give me 30 mins. Don’t start without me!

Dave: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Penelope got off the couch and opened her closet to reveal her extensive collection of lingerie. She picked out a lacy black and purple set, and put on a nice, black, slip dress on top. A little spritz of her new perfume and some mascara and she was good to go.

She glanced in the mirror. Someday, she knew she would fall in love and settle down. She would enjoy wearing different lingerie for the same man. But tonight was not that night. She tousled her brown hair, which had been nicely curled for the game in case they were going out to celebrate after. She grabbed her car keys off her desk and walked towards the door.

A loud thump made Penelope stop in her tracks. What the hell was that? It sounded like an animal, but there was no way that was possible. She lived in an apartment. In the penthouse. She watched the doorknob rattle like it was going to fall off any moment. She heard keys jiggling for what felt like an eternity, and finally the door flung open with a loud bang, and in tumbled the very drunk captain of the Chicago Blackhawks.

“Holy shit, Jon. How much did you drink? You smell like a liquor distillery.” Penelope grabbed his arm in an attempt to drag Jon to the couch. Not so easily done when you were trying to move 200 pounds of dead weight. After much struggling, Penelope managed to lie Jon down on the couch. “Don’t move, Jon. I’m going to get you some water.”

Jon mumbled incoherently and Penelope went to the kitchen to make Jon some tea. Getting drunk after a loss was not Jon’s style. He was usually either at the gym or reviewing tape of the game.

“Here you go, Jon. Seriously, how much did you drink?” Penelope pressed a hot towel to his face and studied his facial features. He looked tired and drunk, all the determination he had in his eyes earlier long gone. “Here, sit up and have some tea.”

Jon shook his head. “We fucking lost.”

Penelope brushed some of Jon’s hair away from his eyes. “I know, Jon. It’s gonna be okay, you still have two games left. I know you guys have it in you to win,” she said quietly.

Jon groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Get some rest, Jon. You’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow. Your tea’s on the table if you want some.” Penelope stood up and grabbed her keys off the coffee table. She started walking towards the door, but felt Jon grab her wrist.

Penelope looked down. “Is there something else you need?”

Jon didn’t say anything. He just yanked hard down on Penelope’s wrist and she came tumbling down on top of him.

“What the fuck, Jon? You smell gross-“ Penelope said, her body pressed against Jon’s. Before she got to finish her sentence, Jon’s lips were on hers.

“Jon, what the hell, I’m not Lindsey-“ Penelope said, pushing her palms on Jon’s chest to create distance between them.

“Shhh, baby don’t talk,” Jon whispered hoarsely, lacing his fingers in Penelope’s hair before returning his lips to hers.

Penelope couldn’t think. She wanted to push him away. She wanted to crawl into her bed and not come out until this shit sorted itself out. But really, she just wanted to keep on kissing Jon. But this was wrong; Jon was her best friend, Lindsey was his girlfriend. And Dave was waiting for her at his place.

“Jon, no.” She sat up, still straddling his hips. She looked down at his face, unable to read him for the first time. His eyes were hazy from a combination of alcohol and lust. But determination was back in his eyes. This time, it looked like Jon was determined to not stop until Penelope started begging for mercy. She knew she had to leave now. She felt suffocated in her own apartment, unable to think with Jon’s big, strong body so close. “I’m going out.”

Before she could reach the door, she was pressed against the wall. Jon was so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He grazed his nose against her neck.

“Mm, you smell so good.” Jon trailed kisses down Penelope’s neck and onto her shoulder.

Penelope bit back a moan. This had to stop. “Jon, you’re drunk…Jon, stop, oh god.” Jon’s lips were still attacking her neck, leaving little love bites all over. His hands were underneath her dress, his fingers flickering over that spot that made all thinking impossible. Jon pushed the straps off Penelope’s shoulders and her tiny slip dress slid down to her ankles.

“Jon,” Penelope moaned. Her brain was in overdrive; the fine line between wrong and right had dissolved ages ago.

She felt him smile against her lips. “I love the way you say my name.”

---

Penelope woke up wearing nothing but Jon’s dress shirt from last night. She felt Jon’s arm around her, snoring softly behind her. Trying not to wake him, she lifted his arm off her and walked back to her own bed down the hall.

The clock beside her bed read 6:57am. She didn’t have anywhere to be today, but there was no way she was able to fall back asleep. She changed into her pajamas and laid down on top of her sheets and recalled the events of last night.

Sex with Jon had been the hot sex she was looking for and then some. Even though he was drunk, that man still moved ten times faster and smoother than all of the men she’d ever slept with. Jon had taken her right there against the wall, again on the couch, and then one last time on his bed. He had ruined her for any other guy.

The funny thing was, the idea of sex with Jon had never been appealing to her throughout these 7 years. One night later, the idea of sex with anyone but Jon seemed boring, lifeless, and tame. But that was just what it was. Sex. She didn’t want to change anything. She didn’t want a relationship with Jon – it would never work. They were perfect the way they were. She closed her eyes. Casual sex with your best friend never worked.

Before she knew it, she had drifted off. An hour later, she woke up to the sound of running water in the house. After brushing her teeth, Penelope headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Between the sounds of bacon sizzling and fruits being blended, Penelope didn’t hear Jon walk into the kitchen. Turning around to grab a spatula, she bumped straight into Jon’s shirtless chest and gulped. She had seen his abs countless times, but this time they just reminded her of their wild, furniture-breaking romp from last night. Her eyes trailed down and widened slightly when she saw that he only had a towel around his waist. The sight made something stir below her waist.

This could not be happening. She could not have feelings for her nose-picking 5 year-old neighbour from 20 years ago.

“Hi,” Jon said, giving her a small smile.