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"Just one kiss," she nods, her lips a hair's breadth away from me. "Promise?"
"No."
Before she can protest, I take Em's lips with mine. They're soft and warm, like falling into the memories I've lived off for so long. I take my time, relishing the feel of her lips on mine, absorbing the zing of adrenaline coursing through my body.
I pepper several light kisses on her lips before tugging on her bottom lip. Her hands reach up and tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, causing me to lose my balance and tip her into the couch cushions. I kiss her with years of suppressed need, my tongue matching hers, stroke for stroke.
God, I've missed this. Missed her. Missed her taste. She still wears the fruity lip gloss that tastes like strawberries and drives me wild.
Suddenly, she pushes me back, changing positions so she's on top. Somehow her hands have found their way under my shirt, and her nails sink into my chest. I groan into her mouth, trying to pull her closer. I'm about two rubs and a tug away from coming in my pants like a thirteen-year-old boy.
I don't know if she realizes it, but Em's hips are gyrating into me. This kiss went from zero-to-sixty in about two seconds flat, but it's not enough. I want her. I want her naked, under me, on top of me; I don't care. I need the nirvana of being inside her and I'm one-thousand percent sure she wants this too.
At least, I was until I hear a throat clearing and a giggle from somewhere behind us. Em and I freeze at the same time, lips still connected. I can't help but smile and I think the feel of my grin on her lips must knock Em back into reality because she catapults off me like she was shot out of a cannon.
"This isn't what it looks like," she says guiltily to Holly and Luke, who are standing in the kitchen staring at us like a pair of voyeurs.
"So you're not making out with Ryan on Luke's couch? Wow, Avery, you don't waste any time," Holly teases.
"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like, but it's not going to happen again. It was just a one-off, for old times' sake. Right Ryan?"
I shrug because if I have anything to say about it, the kiss will definitely not be a one-off. Em glares at me.
"I feel like I'm missing something here." Luke shoots us all a very confused look.
"We're just friends," Em blurts out, straightening her shirt and patting down her hair, which was mussed by my hands running through it. "And I was just about to leave."
Em beelines for the door, slamming it as she goes. Half a second later, she reopens it, grabbing her shoes and purse before slamming it again without a word.
Luke stares at me like I've grown a set of balls on my forehead.
"Holly, Em, and I are old friends. I was just getting…reacquainted."
"You try to pull that shit with Holly, and I'll rip your dick off and shove it down your throat. And who the hell is Em?"
"Don't be an idiot, Luke," Holly rolls her eyes. "Ryan is Avery's ex. And you know her first name is Emerson. Ryan's always called her Em. The long and short of it is, Avery dumped him when he proposed seven years ago, and now, like a hero from a romance novel, Ryan has returned to Toronto to win her back."
"And win a Stanley Cup," I add.
"Don't jinx it, asshole," Luke says, narrowing his eyes at me. "Get your shit together. We have to be at the rink in an hour."
Luke kisses Holly goodbye. She walks over and hugs me before bolting out the door to go after Em. Luke glares at me with his arms crossed over his chest. I laugh at his display of machismo.
"Take it easy, man. Holly's like a sister to me. There's only one woman for me. She just needs a little convincing."
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Torontonians are on another level of fandemonium. They are the loudest and proudest fans in the league. When the team is riding high, it's out of this world crazy. The players feel like kings with the keys to the city. But when things go wrong, you don't want to show your face anywhere, and you become public enemy number one.
This year, Toronto is kicking ass. We're second in the league and, since the trade deadline, the odds makers have us as the favourites to win the Cup. It's a lot of pressure, but I've always thrived under pressure. The team was ousted from the playoffs in the first round for the last six years. The first three times, the Northmen had exceeded expectations by even making it into the post-season, so it wasn't a big deal. They were a young team learning what it takes to be a force in the NHL. The last three exits from the playoffs have been massive letdowns, and the fans have let their displeasure be known.
This time around, the entire city's expectations are the highest they've ever been. We're on pace to set a franchise record in points in a single season, Hunter LaRoux is leading the league in goals against and save percentage, and we have three of the top ten scorers in the NHL: Chase Wilder, Daniel Drake, and myself. On paper we are the best team in the NHL and, by all accounts, should win it all. But everyone knows it's a whole new game come playoff time. Unlikely heroes emerge, big-time players people thought would lead their team to glory will wilt under pressure and, guaranteed, a bottom-dweller team will materialize out of nowhere as a David and Goliath Cinderella story.
The regular season is ending and we need to solidify as a group before the first round. We need to forget about the past and win like we can. A big part of being in the playoffs is the mental game. We can't let years of disappointment put doubt in our psyche.
I stare into the packed arena, full of twenty-thousand diehard fans who bleed blue and white. The crowd goes wild as my name booms from the sound system, announcing me in the starting lineup. As the new guy on the team, the boys sent me out to do one solo lap at the start of the game to soak it up. I love looking into the stands and seeing fans, young and old. There are lifetime fans that have stayed loyal even though the team hasn't won a Cup since the sixties. There are new fans who are experiencing hockey for the first time. And, of course, there are the puck bunnies.
When I first made it to the NHL, my mom always told me the same thing, "Every time you go out and play, a fan will be seeing you for the first time, and a fan will be seeing you for the last time. So, you can never take a night off. You always have to do your best."
