Strictly Roommates

Penelope’s POV

For the love of God she did not know why she decided that going to Boston for game 6 was a good idea. Here she was, stuck on a 2.5-hour flight next to Lindsey, who wouldn’t stop talking about Jon and their amazing sex life.

“I know we argue a lot, but I really think our relationship is getting better,” Lindsey piped.

“Uh huh,” Penelope nodded, pretending to be interested in the magazine she grabbed from the seat pocket in front of her.

“You know what the upside of fighting with Jon is? Incredible make up sex after.” Lindsey said, her lips forming a devious smile.

Penelope resisted an urge to scream. This was definitely not going the way she wanted.

“Jon does this thing where he-“ Lindsey began to describe in vivid detail. “Are you even listening to me, Pen?”

Penelope sighed. There was no way Lindsey could find out what happened between her and Jon. If the only way she could keep Lindsey in oblivion was to listen to her rant about Jon’s amazing penis, she would listen.

“As I was saying, Jon does these things with his fingers. Oh my god, I swear I die a little bit everytime.”

Penelope shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew exactly what Lindsey was talking about. Two nights ago Jon was doing the exact same thing to her.

“And then there was this one time he had me tied up-“ Lindsey continued.

Penelope glanced around. There were children on this flight. Children who definitely did not need to be listening to Lindsey like she was describing a porno she just watched last week.

“Linds, I think we should save this conversation for the hotel room, people are starting to stare,” Penelope whispered.

“Oh my god, you’re right! This must be pretty uncomfortable for you too, I mean, after all, you and Jon have known each other your whole lives. You’ve probably seen him naked long before I have.” Lindsey laughed.

Penelope gulped. She had. The first time she had seen Jon naked she was four. They had been swimming together in one of those blow-up pools Jon’s mom had set up in the backyard, the ones you fill with the garden hose. There was proof on home videos, which Penelope remembered watching when she was 13 when she had just hit puberty. Most humiliating video ever. But that was nothing compared to the naked Jon she had seen two nights ago. That image of Jon, with his perfectly sculpted ass and thighs made of steel, was going to stay in her mind for a long, long time.

--

Penelope’s POV

“I think I’m going to puke,” Lindsey said, biting her nails nervously. She and Penelope were sitting in a suite with the other Blackhawks wives and girlfriends. All the food on the table was untouched. They were all far too nervous to eat.

The game had been going in Boston’s favour, with them up 3-0 in the first two periods. For a while, it looked like the Hawks were going to go back home without a cup again. But then in the third, Hossa, Kaner, and Stalberg all scored big goals to tie the game. They were in triple overtime and Penelope thought she was going to get a heart attack soon for the amount of stress she’s suffered through these three extra periods.

She watched Jon on the ice, mostly. He always moved with such confidence and determination, the same way he was off the ice. She watched Jon carry the puck into the offensive zone, bringing Sharpie and Kaner with him. He passed the puck to Sharpie. Sharpie passed it to Kaner. It went back and forth between them for what felt like forever. Chicago had the puck for so long it looked like a power play.

Then Seabrook fired a big slap shot straight at Rask, and everyone in the suite held their breath until they heard the puck hit the goal post. Penelope swore that was the most deafening sound ever.

But then the puck rebounded straight to Jon, and with a perfect shot, Penelope saw the puck hit the back of the net.

For a while, she couldn’t move. She felt the girls clinging onto her screaming. She saw the guys in their white and red uniform jumping on Jon. She saw the stunned Boston audience.

Lindsey grabbed her arm. “Come on! Let’s go congratulate the boys!”

Penelope followed Lindsey numbly down the bleachers and into a tunnel to go to ice level. With the colourful confetti coming down and helmets and gloves being tossed around, all Penelope saw were bright colours moving in a blur like an abstract painting. When everything refocused again, her heart dropped to her stomach.

Right there at centre ice were Jon and Lindsey. He had her in a passionate lip lock, totally oblivious to the screaming guys around them. Penelope didn’t notice the other guys neither. They were all out of focus while Jon and Lindsey kissed happily in the middle, like the ending to some sappy romance movie.

She watched them rest their foreheads against each other, Jon the happiest she had seen him for a very long time. Her heart swelled for him; this was everything he wanted. She had heard him talk about his dream of winning the Stanley Cup since he was five. To win it twice in four years was just amazing. She wanted to congratulate him, to let him know that she always believed in him. Three years ago, when Jon won the cup for the first time, Penelope was standing where Lindsey was right now. Sure, she and Jon hadn’t been kissing. But they had cried together, and he had never let go of her hand when other people came up to congratulate him. And in that very moment, she thought of herself as Jon’s girl. That even if Jon dated, the girl would never be important enough to replace her at times like this. But she was wrong.

Before she knew it was happening, she felt a tear fall down her cheek and onto her red Toews jersey. She wiped it away quickly and plastered a smile on her face. She needed to put her feelings aside. Tonight was about the boys.

Penelope walked over to center ice as well, congratulating Sharpie, Hossa, Shaw and some of the other boys on her way to where Jon was standing. When he saw her, he broke out into a huge grin.

“Pen, we fucking did it!” Jon screamed, wrapping Penelope into his arms.

Penelope breathed into Jon’s scent. She was used to his stench, having played hockey with him for most of their childhood. The familiar smell made her relax in his arms.

“I knew you guys could do it,” she smiled back, brushing his hair out of his sweaty face. But then she remembered Lindsey standing next to them and quickly retreated her hand. This was not her job anymore.

“We’re going to go celebrate at dinner, you’re coming right? We’re having the huge celebration back in Chicago tomorrow night.” Jon said, still unable to keep that smile off his face.

Penelope looked down. With so much to celebrate and happiness to go around, she really didn’t want to be the one to damper the party. It was the best day of many of these guys’ lives, but she felt like her heart was breaking. She didn’t want to be a part of this anymore.

“You guys go ahead, I’m not really feeling well. I think it’s the salad I ate up at the suite.”

Jon looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

Penelope waved her hand to gesture that it was no big deal. “Yeah, it’s just a little stomach ache. I just want to get some rest.”

“Okay then… call me if anything.” Jon gave her arm a little squeeze.

Penelope nodded. As if the captain was going to have enough time to answer his cell phone during his Stanley Cup celebration.

--

Penelope didn’t even feel like crying. It was just sort of a numbing feeling, only felt through the heavy pain in her chest. She was mad at herself. Mad that she was weak enough to let one drunken, mindless night of sex change a 20-year old friendship. Mad that after that one night, she would overthink every little gesture Jon did, whether it be ruffling her hair or giving her a tiny smirk. Mad that she had seven years to take a chance but she was too blind to see the opportunity.

A knock to her door snapped her away from her thoughts. The first thing that floated into her mind was Jon. He was coming to check on her. But to kill her hopes, she convinced herself that it was just the housekeeper.

But she was surprised to find that it was neither at the door, but rather Brent Seabrook.

“Hey,” Penelope said, slightly confused. What was he doing here? Sure, they were friends, but they were definitely not that close. Not close enough for him to be at her hotel room on the night the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup.

Brent lifted up his arm to show that he was holding a bag. “Jon told me you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some juice and crackers.”

Now Penelope was really confused. He went to buy crackers for her? “Thanks…shouldn’t you be celebrating with the boys? Congratulations, by the way.” She said, giving his shoulder a little squeeze.

He smiled. “Thanks, and yeah, I was there. But then Jon mentioned that you were here alone so I thought I’d check on you.”

“Did Jon send you here?” Penelope asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

“No,” Brent said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Penelope said softly, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Can I come in?” Brent asked awkwardly.

Penelope blinked twice. This night was getting weirder by the second. “Yeah, sure.”

Brent walked into the room and started pouring the orange juice into a glass. “Here you go,” he whispered, inches away from Penelope’s face.

Penelope tried to read his eyes. “Brent… why are you doing this?”

Brent looked down. “I like you, Pen. I’ve liked you for a really long time. But you were always…” He trailed off.

Penelope bit her lip. She knew what he was thinking. “With Jon,” she whispered.

Brent nodded. “You guys are complicated. I mean, Tazer used to bring you to all of our events, you guys spent the off season together, but now I see that he and Lindsey seem to be serious, so I guess there’s nothing going on between you guys after all.”

Penelope swallowed. Brent just confirmed what had been stabbing at her heart all night. “Nothing was ever going on between us, Brent.”

Brent looked up with hopeful eyes. “But do you… do you have feelings for him?”

Penelope froze. This was the moment of truth. Here she had a chance to change her fate, instead of waiting around for her shit roommate who was probably fucking his girlfriend as they spoke.

“No,” she said softly. “Never have, and never will.” She gave Brent a small smile.

He gave her one back. “Good, because I’ve been waiting a really long time to do this,” He said, putting down the glass of juice and leaning in towards Penelope.

Her heart was beating fast. Right off the bat, she was lying to Brent. But she knew that there was no chance of her and Jon ever getting together, and no chance she could treat him platonically like she used to. She tilted her head a little bit to the side and let Brent kiss her.

His lips were soft, and she could tell by the way he kissed her that he was being careful. It was the complete opposite of the kisses she and Jon had shared the other night. Those had been rough, fiery kisses that left her lips swollen and tingling.

Her eyes opened. Jon. She had to stop comparing everyone and everything to him. It was one night, one that he didn’t even remember.

She pulled away from Brent slowly and put her hand on his chest. “Brent, I want to take this slow.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course. Good night, Pen.” He leaned in and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

“Good night, Seabs. Congrats, again. I’m proud of you boys.” She closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Here’s to turning over a new leaf, Penelope thought to herself. She found herself smiling as she sipped the orange juice Brent had poured for her.