Page 20 of Hockey Halloween

Josh

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I say, nudging my brother. He’s seated across the high-top table from me, but this bar is so packed, we’re only inches away from each other.

“What did you say?” Jared asks. “I can’t hear you.”

“That’s because it’s loud as hell in here,” I say, leaning even closer so he can see and hear me better.

“It’s also because you’ve got this shit wrapped around your face,” he grumbles, pulling at the white gauzy strands of my costume.

“I’m a mummy,” I tell him for the fortieth time. “I have to have my face all covered up.”

“How the hell are you going to find anybody to hook up with if you won’t show your face?”

“Once again,” I say, sighing, “I’m a mummy.” In my defense, I think my costume is genius. Yes, Kirby’s a good half hour from Bainbridge, so the chances of seeing any of my players at this bar is slim, but the fact that most of my body is concealed is an added precaution.

“You could have at least gone shirtless. I thought that was a given. It’s a costume contest for adults.

Clothing should be minimal. Everybody knows that,” Jared says, shaking his head like he can’t quite figure out where he went wrong raising me, even though he’s my brother, not my dad, and I’m a year older.

He’s clearly the wiser one, though, because he’s dressed as a bare-chested pirate, and getting lots of attention.

“I’m not here to hook up. I’m here to have fun,” I tell him, reaching for my beer.

Jared sighs loudly and looks at me with pity. So does the stuffed parrot plushie on his shoulder. “For the vast majority of adults, hooking up and having fun are the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I?—”

“I know, I know. You have Reese. But dude, half the people in here probably have kids. You can have a child and still have a life,” my brother says.

“You’re the best freaking parent Reese could ever ask for and you know I love that little princess more than life itself but believe me when I say this.

You need to live a little. If you don’t let loose at some point, you’re bound to crack. ”

I’m still fumbling for my beer because dammit, this costume is ridiculous and I’m basically wearing mittens made of gauze.

Jared, ever the cool one, slips his dagger from its sheath on his belt and starts to cut away at the fabric covering my hands.

His dagger is made of plastic, but my costume’s made of cheap, filmy material, so my hands are free in a matter of seconds.

Taking a sip of my beer, I raise it in a salute of thanks.

“And how the hell are you gonna take a piss in that thing?” he asks, gesturing at my costume.

Okay, I’m a cautious guy. Some might say I tend to go overboard in that department, but I’m no fool.

Hopping off my school and taking a step away from the table, I raise my arms to show that it’s actually in two pieces— pants and a shirt.

“It even has pockets,” I brag, patting my backside where my keys and wallet are safely stored.

Jared laughs. “At least you’re prepared.”

Before he can tease me more, the deejay stops the music to announce the costume contest winners.

I’m not shocked when Jared’s number is called and mine isn’t.

And I’m not jealous, either. My brother loves the spotlight, while I’m happy behind the scenes.

I settle back into my seat and watch as he struts up to the stage, takes a bow, and then makes the parrot on his shoulder take a bow, as well.

The crowd eats it up because of course they do.

The deejay continues to call numbers, but I’m checking my phone to see if my mom sent any more pictures of Reese trick-or-treating in her narwhal costume.

I’d never even seen a narwhal before she chose the costume, but she’s the cutest one ever to exist and I won’t be taking criticism on this point.

I’m happily swiping through the album of pics my mom sent when a woman approaches my table.

“Is anyone sitting here?” she asks.

I look up at the stage to see my brother dancing with several of the other contestants, most of whom are women.

It’s a safe bet I won’t see Jared again tonight, so I nod at the woman and do my best to smile through the gauze covering most of my face.

“It’s all yours,” I say, and not just because she’s wielding a knife.

It’s clearly a prop that goes along with her Chuckie costume, and besides, I’ll probably head home soon anyway.

Every few months, I let my brother drag me out in the hopes that I’ll be social and live a little.

But the truth is that I like my life just the way it is.

Would I like someone to spend time with?

Of course. Would I like her to be as gorgeous as my totally off-limits neighbor?

Also yes. But where the hell did that thought come from?

Valerie is off -limits, even if I look forward to our daily chats way more than I should.

She’s nearly ten years younger than I am, we work at the same university, and she’s my neighbor and tenant.

Besides, my life is plenty full right now.

I have no business adding anyone else into it.

Although, I have to admit, even to myself, that I wish I could let loose the way my brother does.

Being a dad is the best job in the world.

And I love coaching the hockey team, even if they are responsible for the gray hairs I’ve started to spot near my temples.

I even like working with Jared, fixing up properties and renting them out.

But every once in a while, I wonder what it would be like to just have fun, to just exist in the world without all my daily responsibilities.

I’ll never let myself take the chance, but it’s a nice daydream.

“This is such bullshit,” my new table companion rages, causing me to get out of my own head.

“What is?” I ask automatically, even though it’s none of my business.

“Do you see Little Red Riding Hood up there?” she asks, pointing to the stage.

I look, and sure enough, there’s a woman dressed in red, and she’s draped herself on my brother’s right arm. There’s also a princess on his left arm and a witch hovering close by. I don’t point that out, though. It doesn’t seem helpful.

“Please tell me how her costume beats mine. I’ll wait.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious,” she says, but I can see a smile pulling at her lips.

“This is a great costume. It’s a winner for sure.

How am I not up there on stage, but my friend is?

She’s not even wearing a costume. She forgot.

She dug that red sweater out of the lost and found when we got here. So, like I said, total bullshit.”

“That’s pretty shitty,” I agree.

“But?” she asks. “I hear a ‘but’ coming on.”

I shrug. “Your costume is great, but if you want to get technical, Chuckie didn’t wear a mask. And you have a mask on.”

My table mate is unimpressed with my honesty. “Technically, Chuckie wasn’t wearing a corset either, but it’s Halloween. Liberties are taken.”

She’s got a point. But, in my opinion, the lacy pink corset peeking out from underneath her striped tank top and denim overalls is a nice touch. “I stand corrected,” I tell her. “You’re right. It’s utter bullshit.”

“Thanks,” she says, offering me a smile. It’s a little lopsided, due to all the stitches on her made-up face, but it’s brilliant all the same. It almost reminds me of Val’s smile, but I shake that thought off before it has a chance to fully form.

“So, you’re a mummy?” she asks.

I gaze down at my costume, which basically looks like someone wrapped my body in rolls and rolls of toilet paper, and then look back up at Sexy Chuckie. “How’d you guess? ”

Her laugh is musical, and I want to hear it again.

Before I can think of anything to say, though, the deejay starts pumping music through the bar again.

He must have announced winners at some point, but I’m not the least bit invested in the contest, and Chuckie is a little too invested, so it’s probably best that we missed that part.

The music is too loud, but the beat is good, so I find myself swaying along.

“You’ve got decent moves,” Sexy Chuckie tells me, reaching her hand out. “Feel like dancing?”

Yeah, I do. So instead of overthinking things or fishing my keys out of my pocket and heading home, I put my hand in hers and step out onto the dance floor.

It’s crowded, but we don’t mind. The only person I’m paying attention to is the woman whose hand I’m still holding.

I might be pushing thirty-five, but I’m not a terrible dancer.

And though it’s been a while since I’ve bumped or grinded, moving my body in time with hers is easy.

The song changes, but we’re still dancing, our bodies nearly fused together.

Sexy Chuckie is on the tall side, and the heels she’s wearing add a few inches of height.

Her back is pressed to my front, giving me the perfect view of the swell of her breasts as they threaten to break free from her lacy corset.

I barely know the woman—I haven’t even asked her what her name is— but I’m getting lost in the rhythm, intoxicated by the scent of her.

She takes our joined hands and pulls them across her body, the movement forcing us closer together, pressing the hard ridge of my cock into the soft curve of her ass.

When I press my lips to the nape of her neck, she arches into me, tipping her chin up. I’m cursing my stupid choice of costume because kissing her isn’t a problem, but that’s not all I want to do.

I want to devour her. I want to taste every inch of her.

This isn’t like me, not really, but it feels right. And what was it that Jared said earlier? Something about letting loose before I crack? Suddenly I feel like I might crack right here on this dance floor, like I might split wide open just from the sheer force of wanting her so damn badly.

When the deejay spins a slower tune, Sexy Chuckie turns to face me, letting my hands fall to the base of her spine.

I pull her in close, not wanting any distance between us.

She tilts her face toward mine and our lips meet.

Between the mask she’s wearing and the gauze covering most of my head, our kiss should be clumsy and awkward, but it’s slow and sensual. It leaves me wanting more.

So, when she clasps her hand in mine and leads me off the dance floor, I have no choice but to follow.