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whatisreggieshortfor · 10 months

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Rivalries Don’t Make Friends

AJ x MC

@perfectlysunny02 i finally did it.

(Before anyone says it- I know AJ plays field hockey. My bestie verified it for me- but I wanted to expand the available choices so she plays ice hockey here.)

AJ knew the trouble of falling for a member of the rival team.

It was not something you should do, a betrayal against the loyalty of your own team if the rivalry between the teams was strong enough.

But there’s a flaw in the design of things like rivalries.

They only work when you can see the other person’s face.

The team had convinced her to go out after a match, just a simple night at the pub after a match as they tossed back a few pints. AJ wasn’t a heavyweight when it came to drinking, but she knew her limits and danced right along them, even as she actually danced along the floor with her teammates. Tai had just finished spinning under his arm when she collided with another body clustered with friends, “Whoa- I’m so sorry!” AJ giggled sheepishly, Tai falling back with the team to watch the scene unfold, “I should know better than to get on the dance floor after a few pints. My feet never cooperate.”

The absolutely gorgeous babe in front her smirked, hands holding AJ’s arms from catching her in the stumble, “Didn’t think anything could knock away your stability- not with the way you move on the ice.”

AJ blinked, surprised even as more giggles escaped, “Are you a Manchester Thunder fan?” Something about the woman’s face was tickling a memory in her hazy mind, like she was familiar.

“You could say I’m more of a Liverpool Blaze fan, myself.”

AJ gasped, “Rooting for the enemy??”

The girl chuckled, shaking her head, “But I am a fan of yours, Jones.”

AJ felt her cheeks flush. Sure, she knew she had fans, but most were men who just liked the sport or the type of women you’d see body checking a stranger over some petty argument. She had never met a fan so… effervescent. So beautiful. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage.” AJ offered instead, watching as amusement danced in her gaze.

“Sunna.” The girl grinned, “My name is Sunna. How bout you let take you for a dance to make up for running into me?” Sunna winked, “I doubt the big man is your boyfriend, I’ve heard it’s bad luck to date within your team.” Hearing a snort, AJ could see one of the women from her group just behind her nudging the couple next to her. Ordinarily she’d wonder what that meant, why she nudged them when she mentioned dating teammates- but AJ was distracted. Sunna’s hands were warm on hers, and the shimmering colors in her hazel eyes had AJ’s tipsy mind locked in a trance. So she let herself be led into a dance, “Yeah, there’s a couple on my team that actually split, but Levi and Lucy are too competitive to let it stop them,” she offered offhandedly, spinning and twirling and holding Sunna as the hours creeped on, before suddenly Tai was making his way over.

“AJ, we’re glad you’re having a good time and all, but Gary is itching to get home before he hurls up his pints and we got practice tomorrow.”

The blonde felt a wave of disappointment, but Sunna gave her a smile, “I hope you’ll let me get your number first. I go back without it, Angie and Miles will never stop prattling on about it.”

So that night, AJ left with her number, and a date on the books. Levi and Lucy wouldn’t stop teasing her about it, jokingly poking fun at how much she would blush any time a text came in. And their teasing got worse as the days went on and more dates were ticked off. A drink, a dinner, a movie, eventually they scheduled for date number five after AJ’s next game. She couldn’t wait, no relationship had ever felt so right. Sunna understood her passion, mirrored her energy- she didn’t believe in soulmates, but if they existed then Sunna was hers.

Sunna had never cared for rivalries, none of her teammates did. Sure, they played their hardest in every game because they could get competitive, but the idea of one specific team being their target to beat in a season never made sense. She had a regularly ongoing competition with Oliver and Talia at practice, they took shots at her goal and she had to block. If they made the shot more times than she saved the block then she had to buy them a pint, and if she blocked more than they made they had to buy one for her. Angie and Jake would laugh at them as they practiced themselves. The other players would often complain to Tom, but even as the owner of the team he let them do as they pleased no matter how much it agitated their coach, Graham didn’t appreciate it but he could admit they were efficient when the time came. But Liverpool Blaze wasn’t known for being just efficient. They were ruthless on the ice. During games it was like they were different people. On the ice none of them batted an eye at bloodshed, their enforcers were brutal and their defense was impossible to get passed. Off the ice Jake was sweet and off writing bad poetry or making sure the team ate well, Oliver could often be found playing with his cat or looking at books from his grandmother in Malaysian culture. Talia was pulling pranks that no one could avoid being the target of, Angie would be making snarky comments and helping Talia. Sunna was never what someone expected when her uniform came off- gone was the laser focus that never let anything stray by her, no grace as she moved. Her teammates called her a bubbly fountain of terrible humor, much like her brother Bruno.

But as much as they gave their all, rivalries weren’t an interest. They played because they loved the sport, winning was a bonus. Every member of the team and staff knew that-

Which is why Tom looking as anxious as he did at the locker room as they dressed was out of the ordinary.

Sunna nodded her head to him, dropping the braid she’d been securing and raising an eyebrow as her teammates all watched curiously, “What’s going on, Tommy boy?”

“Nothing.” He said quickly, far too quickly for it to be the truth.

Sunna scoffed a laugh, crossing her arms as she eyed him critically, “You look like you did that time you strapped on skates and Jakey checked you into the glass.”

Tom’s already pale face lost even more color at the mention, hand instinctively shooting up to rub at the shoulder that had taken the brunt of that impact, “Just a… friendly wager. With the owner of the Manchester Thunder.”

“Hamish?” Talia cackled, “You hate that guy! You always say- what is it?”

“That he’s the you that grew up with freedom?” Angie offered, Talia snapping her fingers at the phrase.

Tom gaped, sputtering in response, “I don’t hate him! He’s just rather- he can be chaotic!”

“Weird to bet on the championship,” Oliver offered with a wry grin, “That’s the biggest choking day for players.” Tom squeaked in response.

“What did you bet him exactly?” Jake questioned curiously.

“That we’d be the winner, obviously.”

“Okay…” Oliver nodded, “But what did you actually bet him?”

Tom sighed, adjusting his neck tie- the same tie he wore to every game, “He bet his watch against my tie.”

Sunna snorted, not caring to cover her face as she laughed, “I’m sorry- that watch that you said cost more than my flat? Against your tie? Why your tie?”

“It’s my lucky tie.” He pouted, staring at the monstrosity of color. It had been paired with his actual present as a joke gift- chosen by his players during the holidays one season, Sunna was actually the one that presented the gift to him. It was a mesh of plaid and swirls, nearly every color in the rainbow crammed into it, and it matched almost nothing he wore- but Tom had always cared for it more than anything else he wore, because they had taken the time to get it for him.

Sunna sighed, a smile playing at her lips, “Suppose we need to win then. Gotta save your special tie, don’t we?”

The rest of the team laughed to themselves as they moved about dressing into their pads and jerseys, putting on their gloves and helmets. Tom may have been an odd man to decide to buy an ice hockey team after the life he grew up with, but they were endeared with him all the same.

It didn’t occur to Sunna until her skates hit the ice, face guard firmly in place and helmet strapped and tightened, she was damn near at her place on the goal line before she realized whose team Hamish owned.

Angie howled with laughter when Talia looked Sunna’s way before the ref dropped the puck, “You better not go easy just because your little crush, Kaminski!”

Sunna smirked, whipping her glove off long enough to flip her the bird before the game commenced.

And both teams gave the entire match their all, the only opponents in the league that could keep up with each other. Angie would score, and then a player would manage to slip the puck past Sunna, until the final seconds sat on the clock. Talia had gotten Liverpool up by one as the last ten seconds slowly ticked down, and Sunna recognized the player racing her way.

The words left her lips, puck knocked safely away just as the buzzer rang out, “Thought you had a slicker slap shot than that, Jones.” AJ’s head snapped over as the crowd screamed, Sunna pulling her helmet off to let her braid fall over her shoulder. She was trying to joke, engage in the banter she had grown accustomed to on their dates, but the blonde’s face clouded in anger.

“What?? You’re that Kaminski!?”

Sunna blinked, unaware of the tension that was clearly piled up on AJ’s shoulder, “Uh, well, yeah- is it that important?”

“Is it-“ The cheering crowd could almost overpower her shouting voice if they hadn’t still been so close, AJ’s face was red with rage, “You don’t think it’s important to know you play against me?? Have you just been dating me to get tips to use against us!?”

Sunna’s teammates had been cheering, heading her way to celebrate when they caught wind of AJ’s angry yells. The brunette girl reached out, some mix of confusion and regret in her face, but the blonde slapped her hands away, “AJ-“

“No!” She snapped, “Dating rivals is the forbidden rule! Right up there with a teammate’s ex!” She sped away off the ice before Sunna could respond.

Angie raced over with Jake, but Sunna just shook her head, giving them a glassy eyed smile, “Guess we saved Tommy’s tie, huh?”

“Sun,” Jake started, but she shrugged him off.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she laughed with no humor, “Rivalries- they always gotta ruin the great love stories, huh?”

AJ felt like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner- of course it had to be that Kaminski, what were the chances there was another that understood the intricacies of the sport she’d loved for so long? Levi and Lucy wouldn’t stop giving her shit, making practices in the following days feel like they dragging on even longer. Hamish had always joked with their coach that AJ needed to burn off extra energy, even after practice, but now she just felt tired. Tai was growing more and more worried about her, and Gary was starting to pick it up, too. She didn’t have any excuses to tell them to stop their worry, because truth was she knew it was her fault. Rivalries are supposed to go two ways, but Liverpool had never cared. When the teams would have their tit for tat prank wars, the Blaze only ever responded. They never instigated.

When she had joined the team the feud was at a full blown scale, and she could remember how excited Hamish got when Liverpool was bought by Tom- only to be let down when he made trades. Tom let go of veteran players in Liverpool to trade and draft, until the team was the unstoppable force on the ice they are now. Sunna and Angie and Talia and Jake and Oliver were all recruits he had brought the team. But the new team didn’t care to keep it going, no matter what Manchester did.

So why did AJ let it be such a big deal to her?

Why did Manchester care so much more about this imaginary feud than Liverpool did?

The simple answer was that she didn’t know.

The complicated one involved the mistake she had clearly made.

AJ spent hours, memorizing every piece of information about every member of Sunna’s team. She had never looked into them before, only ever catching their faces on fan posters and things, so she hadn’t made the connection until Sunna had pulled her helmet off at the game. But now the more she learned, the more she realized how wrong she had been. Oliver worked with nursing homes on his time off- Jake offered free meals to the homeless. Angie was a volunteer paramedic with the fire department- Talia wrote music reviews for bands that were just trying to get their start, helping a lot of them get their big break with her name attached to praise about their demos.

And don’t even get AJ started on Sunna. Animal shelters, soup kitchens with Jake, running grief support groups, a professional stand up comedian for a brother. She couldn’t find a single thing she didn’t like.

And she had fucked it up.

Stumbling upon the team at another pub hadn’t been in her plan, but she couldn’t have raced to the table any faster without mowing people down.

But Angie cut in as soon as she opened her mouth, “Sorry, mate. This table is reserved for Liverpool Blaze players, ya know, since you need to be told specifically.”

Ouch, but she deserved that. The one she recognized as Talia shot up from where she’d been making heart eyes at Oliver, eyes narrowing with a blaze when she recognized her, “Oh, the damage in the rink wasn’t enough?”

“Come on, guys,” Oliver intervened, “You know Sunna wouldn’t want you giving her grief over it.”

“Just because Sunna is a pushover when she cares about someone doesn’t mean we are.” Angie shot back.

Oliver putting up his hands in surrender before he looked at AJ, “She’s not here. Probably with Jake again.”

AJ felt her mind swirl with what that could mean, knowing that any of the possibilities were her own fault, “Has she… has she talked about me? At all?”

“Ha,” Talia scoffed, “Wouldn’t shut up about you before. Now she barely says a word. Only Bruno and Jake can get her mouth moving.”

Again, the possibilities swirled at the word choice, but AJ had focus, “I- I need to talk to her. I wanted to apologize- I can’t mess this up again.”

Angie glared at her, “We’ll pass along the message.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, understanding of their anger but annoyed they were ignoring Sunna’s wishes to be civil, “You don’t even have a clue, do you?”

“A-about what?” AJ felt a deep pang of worry that he was about to confirm her worst scenario thoughts.

But he just shook his head with a sigh, “The way she would look at you. I mean, even just a picture of you. She’ll prang on about how moony Talia and I get- but when she looks at you… did you ever feel the way she did?”

AJ wanted to cry.

She had always thought her dates were the problem, that they were the reason a second date never happened. But Sunna had unlocked something of her that she threw away.

Her dates weren’t the problem. She was.

Racing through stoplights, AJ sped to Sunna’s flat- remembering it from their dinner date. Fist slamming into the wood, she was absolutely not prepared for a shirtless man to answer.

“Oh, hello, AJ.”

She blinked, eyes readjusting and focusing on his face. Jake. She felt her shoulders slump, “Hi, uh, sorry for interrupting your date. I’ll just-“

“Date?” He quirked a brow, confusion painting on his face in heavy strokes as he pulled on the shirt he held in his hands that didn’t quite fit him right, “My girlfriend is at temple, what do you-“ His eyes widened, recognition finally flitted through his irises, “Oh! Oh, you want to speak to Sunna? Uh, come in, come in.”

Jake grabbed her hand, pulling her over the threshold before she could stop him, and another male voice caught her attention immediately, “Sunny, mate, these are my best jokes. Something’s gotta make you laugh eventually.”

“Not really,” Sunna’s voice drifted over from the living room, “I’m sorry. I know you guys are trying, I’m just…”

“Bummed? Heartbroken? Too lost in love to cheer up even though your hilarious brother came all the way here?”

“You literally live down the hall, you prat.”

“Semantics.”

“You should shut up. Running your mouth already distracted you enough to spill oil on Jake’s shirt.”

Jake cleared his throat, watching their heads swivel his direction before their eyes landed on AJ, “Sunna has a visitor.”

Bruno narrowed his eyes, but stayed silent as the blonde tentatively waved, “Hi… I wanted to say sorry. I never should’ve blown up on you like that. I spent… a lot of time on our dates talking up the rivalry- why would you want to tell me after that? I didn’t make it easy for you- and- and I don’t actually care, ya know? I don’t care what team you play for because you still play and you love it and you understand why I love it and-“

Sunna clamped a hand over AJ’s mouth, the blonde had been rapidly talking and hadn’t even noticed her approach, but Sunna kept her hand in place, “I’m going to let go, and I need you to tell me the broiler plate reason of why you’re here, okay? I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Slowly and gently, Sunna peeled her hand from her face, and as soon as it was cleared AJ spoke again, “I want you to give me another chance.” Sunna’s hand finally dropped all the way to her side, vaguely aware that her best mate was forcing her brother out into the hall as her mouth fell open and hope sparkled in her eyes. AJ took hold of her hands, “Please. Give me another chance, I promise I won’t mess this up again.”…”I promise I’ll try not to mess this up again.”

Sunna laughed, how could it have only been a week since AJ heard that sound and yet it still felt like she was coming home to hear it now? “Another chance, then.”

(A few months later, at the banquet to start the following season, AJ and Sunna arrived together. And by the end of the night, Hamish had finally agreed to trade Levi and Lucy away to Jasper- the bottom team in the league- after Lucy had targeted Sunna for ‘accidental collisions’ throughout the night after Levi had tried flirting with her. AJ couldn’t figure out why Lucy was annoyed, Sunna wasn’t her girlfriend, but at least they’d be gone.)

Masterlist

#litg #litg AJ #litg angie #litg jake #litg oliver #litg talia #litg tai #litg levi #litg lucy #litg gary #litg bruno #litg AJ x mc #no villa au #rivals to lovers #rivals #ice hockey au

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leajdh · 10 months

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Gold Rush

Chapter One: You did it to me like you’ve played this game before

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS:

The sweat is dripping down my face. I brush it off with the end of my sleeve. Breathing heavily I try to regain focus on the clock hanging across the rink. Shit, it’s after 10pm already.

When I’m on the rink, I sometimes forget the time, especially when no one's eyes are on me. It’s not like I’m not used to being watched. I had countless tribunes full of people watching my every move since my first competition at the young age of six. And don’t get me started on the millions of people who watched me compete and win in the Olympics. Two times. First at 18, then 22 and now at 26 a new girl took my place on the Olympic team. I still land all my jumps, I would even argue I’m better than I was at 22, but I quit competition skating. I lived my mothers dream two times. I think that’s enough.

Wishing I could say, I want to fulfill my own dream now, I skate off the rink and put the protection covers over the blades, stomping to my bag where I change into sneakers. As I tumble over the tribune I notice the lights in my uncle's bureau are still on. He told me he had a meeting but I didn’t think it would take that long.

Walking past the long hallway, I see my medals and goblets shining inside the glass cabinets. I’ve wasted my entire life on the rink for some bright metal things and titles people seem to care about, but I don’t. I used to though. I loved the competition, I loved the crowd cheering for me, I loved to win, always pushing myself past my limits so I would be the one holding Gold in my hands and see my mother smile.

But then on the night as I came back home from the Olympic Games with medals around my neck, I started to panic. I did it, I reached the life goal, again not only once, I did it twice. My entire life I was so focused on ice skating, I didn’t have a plan of what I would do once I achieved this longlife goal. Most girls my age are getting their life started, while I feel like mine’s already over. I have no plan and worse, no motivation to change it. Everything I had on my mind for the last 4 years felt dull compared to competition skating. I tried being a coach, but it made me feel stuck even more, so I quit that too. My old coach Mei Mei said I’m being unreasonable and my self-pity is unbearable. I know I am. Thousands of young girls wish they were in my shoes. And it made me feel ungrateful and straight up horrible, but once I realized being a champion wasn’t my own dream to begin with, it was my mothers all along, I can have as much pity for myself as I want.

Now I only skate for myself, with a blank mind, no goal to reach. Just for me.

I was about to approach uncle's door to check on him, as it swung open and a skinny, dark haired man with big glasses stepped out. He doesn’t notice me while shaking my uncle's hand before turning around, walking towards the exit. Hearing my uncle’s tormented sigh I startled him by quickly stomping over.

“Jesus, oh! Don’t give me a heart attack! What are you still doing here?”, uncle Masamichi asks with his hand dramatically laying over his chest.

“What do you think I’m still doing here?”, I ask him right back, knowing he can already tell.

“Thought you only wanted to skate for an hour”, he says, giving me an intense look, which I ignore: “Long meeting, huh? What was it about?”

He knows better not to start a discussion with me about skating. He wishes I would still compete. For my mothers sake, but more so for mine. He sees me just living from day to day with no purpose. Figure skating gave me a purpose, but this chapter is over. At least he understood my reasoning, even though it doesn’t hinder him from telling me to compete again. I get it, the way he saw me my entire life. I was in skates before I could even properly walk. It’s in my genes, being the daughter of a figure skater and a NHL ice hockey player. Even though one is dead and the other one I only ever saw on the TV. I don’t know a lot about my dad and to be honest I don’t care to learn about him. He left my pregnant mom to play for the New Jersey Devils, completely cutting contact, only talking to her through a lawyer. He lived his dream while my mother scratched hers and handed it down to me.

She was part of the Olympic team when she found out she was pregnant with me. Due to immense pregnancy symptoms she had to leave the team, and her dream, behind.

A week after it was announced that I will be joining the Olympic team, my mother was killed by a drunk driver. He lost control over his car and hit her as she was jogging on the sidewalk. I was so devastated, I took all my grief into skating, knowing she would be mad if I didn’t give my all. With this way of coping with her death, I don’t think I ever processed it correctly, if there even is a right way to do so.

She never saw me standing on the pedestal. This thought haunts me in my dreams. Especially after accepting she wanted to live her dream through me.

Uncle Masamichi took me in. I was 18, so neither my dad nor the state cared about me. Since the incident Masamichi not only manages the ski resort, he also took over my mothers job as the rink owner. Masamichi isn’t a fan of any sport that’s on ice, he prefers snow, but the rink is a huge source of income, particularly when the resort is empty in between skiing seasons.

“It’s actually good you’re still around. I need to talk to you”, he says and walks right back into his bureau. He takes a seat behind his desk and waits for me to sit on the used up couch right by the door. I don’t know why but I get nervous. Fidgeting with my fingers in one of the holes of the couch, I patiently await whatever uncle Masamichi wants to tell me. While peeling parts of the fake leather off, he finally speaks: “A NHL team wants to rent the rink for one of their players. He was injured and needs extra training to get back into the team before the next playoffs. I know you’re not a fan of ice hockey but they offer a lot of money which we could need.”

Hearing NHL makes me sit up. Yasamichi respected my wish a few years ago to stop letting the local university ice hockey team play on the rink, even though it cut a big chunk out of his pockets. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, to see NHL coaches, managers and talent scouts walking in and out of my safespace, the place I feel the most connected to my mother.

Especially after someone from the Devils visited to look out for talented players. Upon seeing the red logo on his chest and clipboard, I freaked out and pleaded with Masamichi to end the contract with the university. I was so panicked that one day I could walk into the hall and see my father standing there, on my rink, looking for new players. I’m pretty sure he would avoid this ice rink like a vampire shuns light, but right before uncle cut the contract with the university, my father retired as a player and went straight ahead to be a coach. Seeking talents is now part of his job and he loves nothing more than ice hockey. He would even face me for the benefit of his team. He doesn’t love me but by the few times I saw him on TV or heard him talk in interviews, I can tell he loves his team.

I snip the fake leather on the floor and think about it for a few seconds.

The last few years were hard. Shortly after my mother died and my father remembered that he has a daughter, his lawyer sent me a perfectly timed letter on my 18th birthday to inform me, he won’t pay alimony anymore. It was not like he gave me a lot anyway, but it still teared up the hole in our income more. If I had gone to court, I would have gotten an immense additional payment on alimony just by knowing how much my father makes a month and how little money he had sent me over the years. But I was too prideful and I knew I could make it as a figure skater. I started to work even harder, gained sponsors and of course made money from all the competitions, but the money is still tight, primarily because I don’t really have a real job and not knowing what to do with your life leads you to doing stupid stuff, like buying expensive clothes and renovating the entire resort out of nowhere.

“Must be a shit ton of money they offered you, otherwise you would have never asked.”

“They seem really fond of this player, apparently he’s the one bringing the trophies home”, is all he says.

“As long as he isn’t a Devil, I think I can handle it. How many times a week do they need the rink?”, I'm not happy about it, but I also have to realize that I’m in no position to disagree. Without my uncle, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head.

“All weekdays, times open, depending on the progress they make. They will also sometimes be using our fitness center and stay in the resort. Everything about this is top secret. I’ve signed an NDA to even be able to have this meeting. I actually think I broke it by talking to you.”

I laugh: “Sounds like they don’t want publicity. Not like I will know him anyway, but what’s his name?”

I only know one name in the NHL and it’s my dads.

He lets himself fall back into his chair and sighs again. By his reaction I can already tell, I won’t like where this is going.

“Gojo Satoru.”

I don’t understand Masamichis grimace. I have never heard that name before.

“Is he a Devil or why are you so shy about it?”, I snicker.

“Not even for a million dollars would I consider letting a Devil skate here. No, he’s a Ranger.”

A Ranger? I look confused. I would have expected someone from a team nearby but someone from New York City. The city that never sleeps. Sending a guy from there over to this town in the middle of nowhere sounds more like a punishment than help.

My interest in ice hockey is non-existing, but even I know about the rivalry between the Devils and the Rangers. They hate each other to the bone. This conflict and hatred is engraved in the teams for at least 50 years. Kind of crazy how rivalry can prevail for so long.

But all I have to say is, whoever hates my dad, gets plus points from me. Even if they are ice hockey players.

“What did he do that was so bad, they must hide him here?”, it is starting to get amusing. I’m not really fond of having an ice hockey player on my rink but that he clearly fucked something up and is forced into exile, makes it a bit funny to me. Seeing me smiling like a little kid completely changes Masamichis expression. He gives me a sad look before turning his face away: “He drove under the influence and crashed his car into a guard rail. Luckily he only hurt himself, but you can guess how bad the media outcry was.”

I understand why he was so timid about it. A drunk driver took my mother from earth and now he wants to rent the rink out to one.

“Is he clean?”, I ask, again sticking my finger in the holes of the couch.

“It’s part of the contract. They assured me, he hasn't had a drop of alcohol since the crash.”

“I hope you bargained a good amount of money if he breaks the contract. I don’t trust people like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Ha, and you do?”

“No, but people deserve a second chance.”

I argue, ignoring the stinging tears in my eyes: “So moms murderer deserves one too?”

“I-”, he stops.

“Doesn’t matter, because he already got one from the court. Five years, and half of it he spent in probation. He has a daughter now, did you know this? With his wonderful wife. He sells houses and the one he lives in is even better than the one he puts on the market. Judging by the photos he posts on social media, his in-laws love him. Do you think they know he killed an innocent woman? With such big smiles for the camera they either don’t know or don’t give a fuck. At least I thought you gave one.”

“You should stop looking him up.”

“Imagine that Ranger killed someone. I bet on my life he wouldn’t even spend one second in prison.”

“I agreed to sign the contract and they have already settled into the resort. Tomorrow they come back to finalize it”, he completely ignored what I said.

“So you actually don’t give a fuck about my opinion?”

“I do care about your opinion but I need you to understand my point. He isn’t allowed to drink alcohol. They even took his license. His career will be over if he fucks up again. If we don’t agree on helping him out, we will just make it harder for him to redeem himself. And I know you don’t want to be the one who stands in the way of someone’s dream.”

For a second I forgot who I was talking to.

Of course my uncle wants to help him. Yet another young man, who came in contact with the law and needs guidance. Even before I was born, he took care of young juveniles. Keeping them off the streets, so they wouldn’t get stupid thoughts. He trained them not only in skiing, he listened to them and taught them morals. He definitely saved a few from ending up in prison.

I stand up and notice immediately that I’ve created a huge hole in that couch. Plucking the fake leather off my fingers, I turn towards the door to leave.

“All this drama for one player. Are you even sure it’s his dream or theirs?”

I walk out of the door without waiting for an answer, but I’m sure he hasn’t got anything to say. Taking out my phone to distract myself, I see messages from my friend Hime, pleading with me to get her a fatty burger with fries from Franks pub. She works at the resort as co-manager, but usually mixes the drinks behind the bar. We share a cabin on the outskirt of the resort grounds.

I text her a thumbs up and she immediately sends a hundred hearts back. Jumping straight into my car, I call Frank to let him know I will pick up two burgers in twenty minutes. He huffs into the phone and hangs up.

With my phone in both hands, I walk towards Frank's pub. On the screen thousands of articles pop up after I googled Satoru Gojo. About his huge accomplishments since joining the Rangers. After he graduated from UCLA, they immediately gave him a contract for a decade. Quite unusual but they didn’t seem to regret it. Since joining them, his team won three times the Stanley cup, and thereof two years in a row. Articles put words like ‘legend’, ‘the strongest’, ‘the honored one’ in front of his name. He has more sponsors than I have fingers, is the brand ambassador of Burberry and Dior and had a campaign with Patek Philippe. With over 50 million instagram followers, he is the most followed ice hockey player in history. And I understand why. He’s not only insanely talented on ice, he is absolutely stunning as well. Tall with broad shoulders covered in muscles, watercolor ocean blue eyes and hair as white as snow. In every single picture, even ones from the press, he looks handsome. Either way smiling brightly into the camera or ignoring them with a stone cold face.

Then there are photos and videos of him leaving nightclubs, completely drunk, falling straight into a car. Each time a different beautiful girl is on his side. I start to read about the crash as I open the door to the pub. The crash happened four months ago. Witnesses saw him leaving a bar seemingly upset and one even tried to hinder him from driving off. In the crash he broke his left leg in three spots and bruised his chest, nearly breaking his thorax. The media said he was lucky he got away with a few bruises and a broken leg. Looking at his car, it was a total loss, so understandably they said that. But for an athlete broken bones can cost their career.

I step towards the register right next to the counter where I wave over the barkeeper. They play a hockey game on one of the many TVs. I try my very best not to look at the screen in fear of seeing my father pop up. Frank walks out the kitchen with my food in his hand, in the background someone screams at the TV, clearly drunk. Frank just huffs and I smile, giving him twenty bucks. He hands me ten back, which I refuse to take. He just stares at me and I have no other choice but to take it.

“You are too good to me, Frank”, I say, grabbing the boxes. He just nods in agreement and wants to go back to the kitchen until a waitress stops him, telling him one guest can’t pay and she doesn’t know what to do. Looking away from Frank's annoyed face, I follow her finger, pointing at the guy.

This can’t be real.

Pulling out my phone again, I open my last tabs and see the guy on all these pictures right in front of me.

With a whiskey glass in his hand.

And by the way he sways there is definitely no water in it.

Frank goes over to him and I follow, a few steps behind, so I’m able to hear their conversation.

“See, I forgot my wallet. You got paypal or venmo? Or apple pay. Scratch that, they froze my apple pay”, he slurs, sitting straddle-legged on a barstool. Frank only points at a paper on the wall ‘Only Cash or Card or Police’.

“Oh come on dude. Do you know who I am? I will give you an autograph. It’s five times worth the bill. I will even smile for a picture.”

Arrogance is the first thing that comes to my mind. And arrogance doesn’t work on Frank. Just as he motions the barkeeper to call the police, I step in with a plan.

“I will pay for it”, they all turn their heads towards me.

“I say it all the time, I have the best fans, and as it seems the prettiest too!”, he exclaims, staring me up and down with a big smirk printed on his face. I ignore his eyes looming over my body and answer with the most sarcastic voice ever: “Your biggest.”

Not looking at him or Frank, I spin around to the waitress. She doesn’t question my decision and just tells me the price. 160 bucks, I nearly puked on the spot.

“What the hell did he drink?”, I ask her, flabbergasted.

“Wanted the best whiskey we had. Drank half a bottle.”

“Frank, I didn’t even know you sell expensive shit like that”, Frank just jerks his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t really call that expensive”, Satoru chimes in and I side-eye him to shut up. He holds his hands up in defeat but still smirks at me. Ignoring him again, I focus back on Frank.

“Can you please do me a favor and write it on a tab. I promise you, you will get the money back as soon as you open the pub tomorrow.”

He looks between me and Satoru, who just lets me sort his misery out. Frank doesn’t look happy at all, but he usually never looks happy.

“Please Frank”, I beg and Satoru hiccups: “Please Frank”, mimicking my voice. Does he not know how much trouble he is in? I ram my elbow lightly in his rips to make him shut up, smiling still at Frank. He looks at me like he wants to read what’s on my mind, but gives up trying to understand my reasoning and nods in agreement.

“Thank you Frank, you really are too good to me!”

It’s the first time today Frank says something to me: “For once, I am”, turning to Satoru: “Be a man and thank her.”

And he does, taking my hand and kissing my knuckle while looking at me with his unbelievable blue eyes.

I nearly puke again, but I can’t lie either. He got me blushing.

“Let’s get out of here”, I quickly mumble, grabbing his hand and dragging him outside. I stop walking as I’ve reached my car. Abruptly I let go of his hand. He’s a bit wobbly on his legs, but not entirely wasted.

All I need is a picture of him in front of Franks pub and I will have proof you can’t trust bastards like him.

“So you are my biggest fan”, he sings, leaning against my car door.

“No I lied, I just don’t like unnecessary trouble”, I chirp, taking my phone out of my pocket. He laughs wholeheartedly and for a second I thought he’s the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.

Being completely enchanted by the way he laughs, I register way too late how he approaches me. I lose grip of the boxes I held with my left hand as he pushes me against my car. Before I can understand what is happening, he lifts me up with one arm underneath my ass, my back straight against my car window.

And then his lips meet mine. Awfully rough and hungry for a first kiss. I taste the liquor on his tongue as he slips it past my teeth.

My mind screams at me to stop this nonsense, but instead I sling my arms around his neck for support and to press his lips more against mine, digging my nails into his silky hair.

It’s like I’m in trance. Everything is blank, there is only him. With his insane body, I definitely saw too many pictures of him without a shirt on and his gorgeous, gorgeous face. People would kill to be in my position.

Kill….

This word repeats in my head and only gets louder as I taste the liquor again. He breaks the kiss only to whisper in my ear: “Sadly I don’t have a condom with me, but my fingers will do the trick.”

I must have misheard him. There is no way..

Right in this second I feel his other hand enter the waistband of my leggings, his two fingers meeting my folds.

It’s like someone threw a bucket of ice cold water over my head. I’m out of my hypnotic state and realize what the actually fuck I’m doing here. I push him away, making him trip over his own feet. He instantly lets go of me, but catches my arm right before I fall face first onto the pavement. Once I stand safely on my feet, I rip my arm out of his grip.

“Fuck, what was that for?”, he asks, holding his shoulder where I punched him.

“Are you serious?!”, I scream, taking backwards steps away from him.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you for paying the bill”, he just argues, looking completely unbothered by this situation. I don’t even know what to answer. Why would he think that and even more so do it?

“First, I didn’t pay for your bill! It’s an open tab and you better make sure to pay him back! Second, why did you think I wanted to hook up with you?”

He strokes his shoulder: “To be honest I don’t know, usually that’s what every fangirl wants from me. And after I kissed you and you really got into it, I thought that’s where we were heading.”

I want to protest, but I realize he’s right. I probably kissed him as needy as he kissed me. All I manage to say therefore is: “I just wanted a photo.”

He tilts his head amused to the side.

“So you really are a fan!”, and closes the distance between us again. Taking my phone, he snaps a few pictures with his arm around my shoulders, smiling brightly in the camera while I can’t believe what is happening right now.

He hands me my phone back and picks up the boxes for me. He pulls out a sharpie and scribbles his autograph on one box and hands them over to me as well.

“You have a pen on you but not a wallet”, is all I can say after a few seconds of silence.

He snickers: “I usually don’t need my wallet. My signature gets me everything.”

“Not in this town”, I murmur, opening my car.

“I figured”, he beams while helping me open my car door.

“Sorry by the way for you know”, he mutters, scratching the back of his head.

“Please don’t mention it again. I want to forget it ever happened”, I say, putting the boxes on the passenger seat before closing it.

“Ah, this hurts my ego!”, he states dramatically, holding his hands over his heart.

I feel like Frank as I huff at him: “As if this would diminish your ego. Let’s be real here.”

“Of course, you are the first woman who ever rejected me.”

"Buhu, poor baby”, I utter, gaining a huge smile from him. I don't believe him as I’m ready to get into my car and drive off.

I have everything I need. The pictures he took are perfect. His expression definitely looks drunk and Frank's pub is perfectly visible in the background.

“Wait a second!”, before I could close my door, he stepped in between.

“Thank you again, I will make sure Frank gets his money tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome”, I affirm, waiting for him to close the door.

“What’s your name?”, he asks instead, still blocking the door with his large body. I just stare at him. Annoyed.

“My food gets cold”, is all I say as I pull the door handle towards me, giving him a wink to get away.

“Jeez Louise, don’t do me like that!”

“You don’t care to know my name, so just spit it out! What else do you want?”

“A ride”, I knit my brows in disbelief: “to my hotel! Not the kind of ride your dirty mind was thinking of!”

I pull the handle again, this time just to hurt him.

“Aua, okay okay, sorry I will stop with these jokes!”

I look at him from under my lashes. God, I’m stupid beyond belief. I motion him to get in. Again giving me that big smile that makes me regret pushing him off me earlier, he walks around and takes a seat in my car. He tells me where he’s staying and I don’t even need GPS because it’s the resort I grew up in and the one I was actually planning on heading to. Driving out of the parking lot, I look over to him. He sits there, mansplaining with the food boxes on one of his thick thighs. Before I could even wish to switch places with the boxes, I remind myself who he is. An arrogant brick, who thinks he can get away with everything. And worst of all, he hasn’t learned anything from his crash. He still drinks. I can’t wait to show Masamichi all the evidence. I know it’s petty, but I don’t want him to ever put trust into ice hockey players particularly ones who drive under the influence.

He’s really chatty, telling me all the stuff his team probably put into the NDA Masamichi had to sign. He is an idiot, which is good for me but bad for him. He doesn’t have a clue about the owner of the rink he would be training in. Clearly he doesn’t care to know anyway. He has a whole team, who does everything for him. Why care to know about the small details. Again, arrogance.

It seems like he doesn’t give a fuck about his career, no interest in whatsoever.

I can’t relate to this mindset. In my competition days, I gave my all, looking up every detail. I was enamored in being perfect.

And I was perfect until the very end.

“I still want to know your name.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“It’s dangerous to drive with a stranger. If I know your name, I will feel safer”, I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s grinning at me. I roll my eyes.

“You weigh more than twice as much as me and don’t even get me started on our height difference. I think you could manage this stranger.”

I should be the one who’s afraid but weirdly enough I’m not.

“I could manage you in every way you want me to.”

I tilt my head towards him, giving him an irritated look: “Do you really want to walk?”

He shakes his head and gives me puppy eyes.

“One more joke like this and you’re out”, I mean but I sound way too unserious. He holds his hand against his forehead: “Aye, aye, captain.”

A few seconds fly by without a word being said. I enjoy silence, but with him, it feels weird. So I told him my name.

“What?”

I repeat it.

“I heard you, but that’s a stripper's name.”

I punch him in his way too hard abs, more so hurting myself by doing so.

“Do I look like a stripper to you?”

“You certainly have the body for it.”

Not responding to his last sentence, I tell him that I’m a figure skater. I should have put ‘former’ in front of it, but in a way I’m afraid he would have asked me what I do now and I can’t answer that without feeling like a failure. It’s a stupid thought, but I can’t ignore it.

“Oh really, a cute little ice princess”, he snores.

Of course, an ice hockey player like him wouldn’t take figure skating seriously. And I’m not arrogant enough to be mad at him for not knowing who I am and what I’ve accomplished.

“Laugh all you want, you ice hockey players wouldn’t stand a chance on the ice without your protection gear. I’ve had harder wounds from being on the ice at the age of four than your entire team.”

“Woah princess, what’s up with your animosity towards ice hockey players? Did one dump you or something?”

“None of your concern.”

He starts to laugh again: “Come on. What did the big, bad ice hockey player do to you to make you hate all of us?”

I don’t care anymore, it’s not like he will remember it anyway. Gripping the steering wheel tight, I tell him: “My last name is Zenin.”

By the way he looks immediately at me, I can tell I don’t need to continue but I do it anyway: “I’m the daughter of, what is his nickname again?”

Satoru falls back into his seat and for a second he doesn’t do anything. I didn’t think he would be this shooked. It’s not a secret that he has a daughter in Idaho. I’m even mentioned in his Wikipedia article. And sadly he’s in mine too.

“I fucking fingered coach Zenins daughter! I can’t fucking believe it! I have to tell my teammates!”, he shouts abruptly, taking his phone out. Thank God I’m a good driver so his scream didn’t startle me.

“Don’t you dare! And you didn’t!”

“Princess, I can still smell you on my fingers, so -”, I push him against his shoulder before he continues.

“Calm down, I won’t tell anyone. Pinky promise”, he stretches his arm towards me, giving me a chance to grab his pinky. I do it, just to get his arm out of my sight.

However I feel his eyes on me for a good few seconds, giving me goosebumps all over.

“I guess I’m really drunk, because normally I would have noticed these eyes a hundred miles away. You have the same demolishing gleam in them.”

“I don’t look like him at all”, I say and I know I’m lying. He’s right. I have my fathers eyes. I’m a carbon copy of my mother but of course the most important feature of my face, my father had to ruin. Satoru is feeling my hostility against this theme and tries to cheer up the mood: “You’re right. If you would look like him, I can guarantee you, I wouldn’t have tried to fuck you.”

This is the first time I genuinely laugh at one of his jokes. I can tell he wants to say something stupid again, but he keeps it for himself, watching me giggle for a few more seconds. Once I calm down, he continues: “And I take it back.”

“What?”

“The sarcastic ‘cute little ice princess’. Imma be honest, my team and I watched you at the Olympics. And Imma be even more honest we prayed for you to fall. Nothing against you, it’s just we hate your dad and you winning would make him happy. Doesn’t matter, what I wanted to say is, we couldn’t take our eyes off you. You were breathtaking.”

I laugh again, partly because of this weird situation and not knowing how to take a compliment from him.

I’ve been praised my entire life. I know how to smile and what to say after receiving nice words, but giving him this phony act seems more than wrong. So I decided to just shortly acknowledge it and focus on something else: “Thank you, but just for your information my father couldn’t care less about me. He would have probably laughed with you guys if I had fallen.”

“He probably does care in his own way. He’s a prideful man with a passion for winners. And you are one.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I bet he would if I sent him a picture of you in a Rangers shirt on top of me.”

“You are disgusting. I hate that man but he’s still my father.”

“What do you mean? You would be clearly on top of me so he could see the shirt and your face properly. It’s a good angle. I don't wanna know what your dirty mind was thinking again, but I’m down for whatever idea you prefer. The main point is, he will get mad either way.”, he looks up at me, grinning like a devil.

Making sure no one is behind me on the street, I press the pedal to stop. We are in the middle of nowhere, only five more minutes away from the resort, but I couldn’t take it any longer. I glared over to him. I don’t even know what I feel. It feels like anger, but not about his nasty jokes. Anger that he thinks he knows more about my relationship with my father than me. Anger that he, who apparently can’t stand him, got to see him, talk to him. I shouldn’t feel upset about it. I’m fine with having no father in my life. Still tears begin to bubble up.

“Let me get this in your head. I could give everyone on your team a blowjob and he wouldn’t give a fuck. You know him as a coach, but I got to know him on a human level.”

He watches me, while readjusting the boxes on this lap. His movements look softer, more awake. He also lost the drunk gleam in his eyes.

“You’re right, I have no clue. I’m sorry”, he leans back into the seat again: “I always go overboard with things I do and say.”

“Like you did go overboard with the alcohol as you crashed your car?”, it is lousy, petty, even mean but he deserves it. At least that’s what I tell myself for being so vile.

To my surprise he starts to chuckle.

“Yes, exactly like that.”

“You think it’s funny?”

“Fuck no, it’s not. But I don’t know how else to deal with it. It’s kind of ironic. I drank because of the pressure of being the best. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. My team and the fans put all their faith in me. I couldn’t make mistakes on ice, so I did them in my private life. Now I drink again to numb the pain in my leg, so I can be on ice again to fall right back into the pressure of being the best. Laughable, isn’t it?”

Deep down I curse myself for feeling a pinch of pity for him. I have never dealt with an addiction. I felt the pressure of being perfect, but I never felt the need to find an outlet other than excessive sport. I shouldn’t comment on it, but I often speak before I think.

“I know the pressure you’re talking about, I dealt with it too. But you know what you need to do with it? Keep it to yourself. Drink or take as many drugs as you like, but do it in your house. Don’t drag innocent people into your mess.”

Everything about me is icy; my voice, my glance. This conversation is intense for two people who literally just met. But he seems unaffected by it, which drives me nuts, because I’m clearly affected and I don’t want him to know that his shenanigans get under my skin.

It could probably only go this far because we share many similarities. We both are top athletes with pressure overflowing us. But I learned to let it all out in skating. Being honest with myself, I don’t know what it’s like to lose. I was always winning. If I’d fallen, I was right back up and on it again. I never had losing in my mind. I was only aiming for the stars.

“Oh princess, you are so wrong. I have a team to look after, you just have to look after yourself. If you fuck up, you lose for yourself. If I fuck up, my entire team loses. It’s not the same.”

“Then maybe you should get better teammates. Or are you just saying that, so you can shift the blame to someone else?”

“To be honest with you, I didn’t expect a passive-aggressive therapy session as I asked you for a ride. I had more something in mind like ending up at your place and taking a video of you while I fuck you from behind with a Devils shirt on.”

The realization hits me at this moment. For him this is all a game. He doesn’t care about what I think about him.

I’m so naive.

I was thinking my words would have an effect on him. That he would really think about his actions and regret it. What was I thinking?

I was thinking of giving him a second chance. I kind of liked him. I wanted to see something good in him. I was so blind. He’s pretty privilege in the worst form. He entranced me so much that I was ready to throw my morals out the window.

He’s a stranger to me as much as I am to him. He probably planned on never seeing me again after fucking me. My opinion on him doesn’t mean anything to him. He just kept talking to me to get a tiny connection so I would sleep with him. He must think I’m crazy for getting so worked up while he’s chill.

But two can play this game.

And I never lose.

It’s the first time since meeting me that he looks confused, because I didn’t immediately fire something back at him. Thinking back I should have let him get his ass busted by the police. Surely Masamichi would have heard about it and the problem would have been solved on its own, but I decided to intervene. Leading me to this mess of a situation.

“What’s up with your weird obsession with my fathers team? Can’t play against them anymore, so now you have to use his daughter as an outlet for your frustration. Sad.”

I lean over to him and by the way he looks at me, he’s observing every little detail about me. So I give him a hint, a hint that will make him think he has won. Glancing to his eyes, lips, back to his eyes and lips again. The smirk that forms on his face screams triumph. It’s the same kind of smirk I saw in his picture right before he entered a game. His winner smile. He really thinks he won.

Guess he had never played against someone so similar to himself.

Too cocky to notice it.

Didn’t his coaches teach him to never underestimate his opponents?

Mine surely did, that’s why I will be winning.

My initial thought was, he would be laughing, in an arrogant, amused way, because for him everything is a game.

Instead he grabs me by my chin, forcing me to look at him. It hurts but in an exciting way. Keeping the play up I act like a deer in the headlight. Holding my breath and not getting a single word out, and to make it even better, I act like I have the hardest time looking in his eyes.

“I knew this would make you quiet for once. Now be a good little ice princess and let me fuck you.”

My lips meet his fast that I’ve anticipated. He doesn’t taste like liquor anymore, he tastes like himself. But I haven’t forgotten it.

While he’s getting lost in our kisses, I open his seatbelt and throw the boxes in the back of my car and at this moment I know I've got him right where I want him. He’s putty in my hands. Clueless.

The realization will drive him nuts.

Grabbing me by my hips, he pulls me over on his lap. It worked better than I would have expected.

His huge hands wander all over me. From my neck, to my breasts down to my hips and ending up at my thighs, pulling me towards him without breaking the kiss. Learning quickly that not only his hands are huge against my body, as I press myself closer to him, I feel his likewise huge hard cock against my stomach. Before I could overthink it and let him win, he tells me, he’s tested and is negative. I tell him the same. One good thing about hooking up with an athlete. We get tested on the regular. I also add that I’m on birth control.

“What a bummer, I would’ve loved nothing more than being the one who makes coach Zenin a grandpa.”

“Shut up, you’re killing the mood.”

“I killed it from the start and you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

I don’t answer him, but I also don’t need to. He’s back on me again. Kissing along my jawline, before he whispers: “Who’s your daddy, Zenin?”

Weird fetish, especially after he talked about my father so much, but I go with it, moaning his name loud into his ear as he grabs my ass with one hand. He just murmurs ‘fuck’ as I can feel him get harder and harder.

It takes my entire willpower to not give in. He’s the hottest man I have ever seen and is ready to give me the night of my life. Again others would kill to be in my position.

I didn’t plan for him to rip my tights open, but he does. I palm his cock with my full hand and still don’t manage to grasp his entire length with it. Fumbling completely out of breath with his belt, I slip my hand finally inside his pants, pulling his cock out. I know, if I just take a peek at it, I will give in.

Letting his head fall behind at the headrest, he whimpers: “Better than my wildest dreams.”

He grabs my waist to align me perfectly with his cock which he lets me guide myself onto. I do as he anticipates, dragging his tip from my clit, down between my already wet folds and just right as I want to push myself down on him, I intervene.

“Wait, it’s so uncomfortable here, my legs already hurt so much from all the training. Can we go to the back?”

He stares at me like I had just asked him to marry me.

“Don’t you dare ever accuse me of killing the mood.”

But in the end, he agrees and kisses me again. Of course he does, right now he would do everything for me.

I climb over to my seat again, telling him I need to unlock the car, so he can open the backseat door. He puts his dick back into his pants, but leaves the belt and zipper open. As I watched him doing so, I’m glad I had the willpower to not look down as I was sitting on his lap. I would have folded.

The first time ever I regret winning.

As soon as he got out and closed the door, I pressed a button, actually locking the doors. Trying to open the back door and it didn’t work, he looked perplexed at me.

Then the realization hits him as I smile, showing him my middle finger that transforms into a wave goodbye. To my surprise he starts to laugh, throwing his head back and hiding his face behind his hands. Before I kick the gas pedal and leave him behind, he glances one last time at me. Throughout the entire time I spent with him, I had a hard time telling what his expressions meant, so I’m not sure what this one is, but I would describe it as sinister. Like the smile he has before winning.

But I didn't dwell on it for too long, because in the end of it all I left him hard, horny and dumbfounded with open pants.

This time his actions had consequences for him.

1:0

I still love winning.

So much so that I can’t wait for the rematch tomorrow.

Even though it will be kind of boring, because of course the only possible outcome is

2:0

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