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I wasn’t bitter at all...that the guys’ dreams had once been mine.
I was usually able to distract myself when I came to games with Kennedy, but I was having trouble tonight.
Hence, why I was thinking of Paris.
Because Kennedy and I—alone—that was the only thing that could distract me when my thoughts got like this.
As much as playing for the NHL had been my dream.
I’d always wanted Kennedy more.
“Holy hellfry. Did you see that hit?” she asked me, cocking an eyebrow when she realized I was staring at her again instead of the game.
“Holy hellfry?” I chuckled, forcing myself to watch as Sebastian delivered another bone-crushing hit behind Carter’s net, clearing the puck and sending it to Jack.
“Do you think they have pickles at the concessions?” she asked...and I was once again watching her.
Absolutely thrilled...
Because pickles were a pregnancy craving, right? I couldn’t remember her ever wanting pickles as a snack before.
“You want pickles?” I asked casually, once again studying every inch of her. Did her boobs look bigger? I’d just been sucking on them before the game as I fucked her in the car. But had they been more sensitive?
I’d been so caught up on what her cunt was doing to my dick that I hadn’t been paying as much attention as I should have been.
Get your shit together, you idiot.
“They just sound really good. Don’t you think?” she asked, tearing her gaze away from the game to look at me as she sucked down her Diet Coke.
“Let me get you a refill...and a pickle,” I told her silkily as I reached out to grab her cup before she could take any more sips.
She was going to be a literal devil without caffeine...but maybe if we gave her enough orgasms we could withstand the storm.
Orgasms trumped caffeine...right?
“My cup’s still full!” she said, trying to pull it away.
“Naw. I know how you feel about proper ice to soda ratio and the current ratio is bad,” I told her.
Everyone jumped out of their seats, and I saw that Jack was once again on a breakaway. Kennedy forgot all about her soda as she got up too and started screaming wildly as Jack swung back and...his shot was blocked.
I took the opportunity to grab her drink, deciding the pickles had to be a sign.
The caffeine cutoff had to begin.
I was going to have to watch the guys, they got all googly-eyed and gave her whatever she wanted any time she looked at them.
I was...slightly better.
Okay, not really. But I could stick to a caffeine ban if necessary. I was, after all, responsible for pulling the goalie so to speak.
Carter would be amused at that joke.
“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s go get you that pickle.” The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the period, so she didn’t have to miss out on any of the game to fulfill her craving. She slipped her hand into mine and as we walked out into the crowded hallway where all the concessions were, I dumped her soda in the trash without her noticing.
It was my lucky day that one of the reporters had caught Jack as he was going into the locker room and she was schmoozing up to him on the TV screen. Kennedy was distracted watching the girl try and flirt with Jack, and she didn’t even notice when I got her a pickle and a Gatorade instead of a Diet Coke.
She could resume all the caffeine she wanted if the pregnancy test came back negative.
