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ledger

The next month was the slowest of my entire life. It was a monotonous routine as I drowned myself in my own reruns after practice, forcing myself not to think about her. When that didn’t work, I’d pump my cock raw in the shower imagining the way her eyes widened as I taught her how to take me perfectly in her mouth. I was fucking red, swollen, and numb when I imagined the way her hips bucked against my mouth.

I begrudgingly spent time with the kid, whose talent on the ice was undeniable, but marred by a lack of teamwork. Before practice, I devoted hours to coaching him on basic techniques, emphasizing the importance of passing and collaboration. Each painful moment was accompanied by the reminder that his mom thoroughly fucked my face in our shared locker room space.

All this left me in a foul mood, exacerbated by Alex’s constant nagging during family dinners about finding someone new to hook up with. As I handed my bag to the equipment handler and thanked the driver, I followed Alex onto the plane.

“You need a stiff drink when we land,” Alex remarked.

We were on our private airstrip right outside the city as the guys loaded onto the plane. We were off to Colorado and our away game tomorrow night, then back home with two days off.

“I don’t drink before a game,” I huffed out. Though I came from the heart of the Midwest, the onset of winter had never been a cheerful time for me. It signified the busiest stretch of the year, and while I typically found solace in being out on the ice and playing hockey, the familiar ache in my knee served as a constant reminder that this season would be my last.

“Come on, Cap,” Alex teased, “lighten up, will you?”

I hoisted my garment bag over my shoulder and slung my carry-on over the other.

“You going to make us all sit in our unofficial assigned seats?” Alex asked, and a few members were already in their rightful spots, waiting to board the plane without me asking.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I had always been a paranoid motherfucker. Before each game, I would jack off in the shower, put on the same socks, and call my mom. It was a weird ritual, but I was convinced it worked. Then a couple of years back, we had all sat in the same seats and won a championship game, and I hadn’t changed a thing since.

Coach and staff sat in the front of the plane, then it went rookie to more experienced. Dirks complained that I made everyone take their assigned seats so I could get the best on the plane, but the truth was, I was too superstitious to change anyone’s seats. I hated the back of the plane because there was more turbulence back there, but I couldn’t move, not without risking the team’s winning streak.

“You going to make us sit in our assigned seats?” another offensive member of our team, Matthews, shouted from behind me as I assessed the plane.

The beauty of flying this jet was that the seats were in pods of four versus rows. It made it so the coaching staff could figure out plays in the front of the plane and we could chill. I sat in a pod with just Alex, the other two seats were always free unless we had guests, then the rookies would sit back there so the guests could sit up front.

“Yup,” I said, popping the p for effect.

The team groaned while waiting to board the plane. As I passed the flight attendants’ setup and opened the curtain, I was surprised to see Coach wasn’t in his seat in the front of the plane. He was as superstitious as I was, which meant he was likely running late.

“Coach isn’t here?” Alex chimed in as he leaned over my shoulder.

I shrugged him off. “Who knows.”

I headed to the back of the plane and realized three people were already sitting in my little four-seat pod. Though it’d been a month since the season started, we’d been able to use the bus to get to our away games up until this point. It was the first time we were taking a plane to a game.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed as I picked up the pace. Everyone who was supposed to be on the plane knew the assigned seating, so if they were guests, I needed to inform them they were at the front.

I stomped like a toddler about to throw a tantrum, and a few of the guys laughed, knowing what was about to come.

Coach jumped up from my seat as I approached.

“Hey, Cap,” Coach said, giving me a hug.

I pulled away, face stoic. “You know my superstition.”

I tried to keep my voice low, not knowing whose guests these were. Coach shook his head a few times, and I cocked my head to the side, not wanting to hear whatever explanation was about to follow.

“I know. I know. We just have these guests, and one is a bit scared of flying, so I insisted that sitting in the back of the plane was safer.”

“No.” I shrugged, going to the other side of him, but Coach insisted on blocking the aisle.

“You need to just give them a chance. We’re all riding on this right now.” I moved to the other side of the aisle and peered over to who was sitting in my seat.

Oh, fuck.

Alex laughed hysterically when he caught up to us and assessed the situation. He knew exactly who was sitting in our seats.

My eyes locked onto her bright blues. I was lost in them when the kid jumped up and shouted, “Cap!”

Right, because he also wasn’t privy to my seating assignments on the plane.

I grumbled, “You’re in my seat,” but my eyes never left hers. Fuck, I’d have given her this entire plane if she asked for it, but I had a role I needed to play, and if I bowed down immediately, everyone would see it.

“I know. Coach warned me you’d be upset about this, being part of your pre-away-game routine, but my mom is terrified of planes. She has this strange belief that she’s more likely to survive if she sits in the back, away from the pilot.”

His explanation jolted me out of my daze, and I tilted my head, considering the validity of the statement.

Auburn swallowed before nodding. “Yes, but if this is your seat, and it’s part of your superstition, I’ll gladly move to the front. It’s not a big deal.”

She cracked me a smile, but it made my heart want to explode from my chest. It was so polite and kind. She wasn’t the same Auburn who exploded all over my mouth while she rode me, or asked if she was doing a good job at sucking my cock.

“It’s—” Alex patted my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze as I glanced back at him. The entire team fixated on us, including Coach.

Dammit. A surge of panic bubbled to the surface, but Alex’s steady touch kept me grounded. “I have a plan,” he said.

I nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

“Let’s not mess up Cole’s superstition and end up losing our first away game of the season because of it.”

The child chimed in, “No, man. I agree.”

Auburn’s expression fell as she rose from her seat next to her son. She reached for her bag under the seat, and I grasped her elbow to stop her.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have intervened. All eyes were on me, and I could feel Alex’s anxiety mounting beside me.

“Stay,” I murmured before addressing everyone. “Your mom can stay here, and you and Alex can go to the front. I don’t mind keeping her company.”

“Why does Alex need to move from his seat?” Dirks chimed in from behind us.

“Because Cole was supposed to go over different plays with Hart today, so instead of boring Hart’s mom, I’m volunteering.”

I closed my eyes and reminded myself to thank Alex but tried to keep everything steady. When I opened my eyes, Coach’s were locked on me.

“That’s extra kind of you, Alex,” Coach added, then I could’ve sworn he winked at me, but I avoided his gaze as much as I could.

From the back of the line, Thomas, a rookie defensive player, shouted, “Sure, you don’t mind keeping her company.” His tone was teasing, tempting me to march over and give him a good-natured punch in the nose.

“That’s fucking rude,” the child barked. I didn’t agree with him on much, but this I did.

I started to say something, but Alex interrupted me. “Alright, all settled. I want to get fucked up when we get there, so can we hurry and sit the fuck down?”

Turning around, I gave Alex a silent nod of gratitude as I slid into the seat directly across from Auburn.

She wore a light-purple hoodie paired with black leggings, with her curly hair gathered into a messy bun atop her head.

As the others settled into their seats around us, she threw on oversized headphones that engulfed her ears. Fiddling with her phone, I leaned over and brushed her knee to grab her attention.

Startled, she yanked off her headphones with a little yelp. “Oh…”

Shaking my head, I said, “I just wanted to see what had you so engrossed.”

She responded with a shy smile. Everyone else was settled, and the flight attendants were giving the safety briefing.

“What is it?” I said, my voice hushed.

“I hate flying.” She tucked the phone next to her, looking out the window.

“And your phone helps?” I asked.

“Ugh.” She threw her hands in the air, and Dirks, sitting in the pod of four across from us, furrowed his brows at me. I shrugged at him, then he put on his headphones and settled into his seat.

“I was playing UNO, okay?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her cute chest.

“Oh?” I asked, trying not to laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard of anyone under the age of sixty who played UNO.

“Shut up,” she said, laughing. “I hate flying, and somehow, the game distracts me enough to get through a flight.”

The corners of my lips twisted into a smile as the flight attendants stopped with their speech and turned off the lights. The plane pulled onto the tarmac, and I gestured over toward Auburn’s phone.

“Go on, don’t let me stop you.” She nodded without looking at me, staring out, but her hand gripped the arm of the chair, her knuckles whitening further with every passing second.

I grabbed my headphones and leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t my responsibility to make sure she was okay. Maybe this was denial and the person sitting in front of me wasn’t the woman I imagined every time I pumped myself in the shower.

I knew she was coming on this trip, and the entire night before I had tried desperately to convince myself I was over her. The bubbles I had been feeling in my stomach were just because it was our first away game of the season, and not because I would see her again.

I was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine.

However, when I glimpsed her golden curls in the dimness of the plane’s cabin, I found myself unable to look away.

She sat there, slightly tense, the soft glow from her phone illuminating her face in the dimly lit cabin. With each flicker of the screen as she tapped away at the UNO cards, her movements seemed almost mechanical, a distraction from the nervous energy radiating from her.

Her grip on the seat tightened with every passing minute, her knuckles turning white against the dark upholstery. Despite the rhythmic hum of the plane’s engines and the muffled chatter from the team, her attention was fixated on the window beside her, where the world outside transformed into a blur of lights and darkness as the aircraft gained altitude.

I couldn’t help but watch her, my gaze drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, the subtle flutter of her lashes as she blinked, the way her lips parted ever so slightly with each shallow breath—all of it captivated me in a way I couldn’t fully comprehend.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but I hesitated, unsure if my presence would be welcomed. Instead, I remained seated across from her, feeling utterly helpless.

As the plane soared higher into the night sky, her anxiety seemed to escalate, the tension in her shoulders palpable in the confined space of the cabin. It was as if she were wrestling with some invisible force, a battle waged silently within her mind.

I shifted in my seat, the urge to soothe her overwhelming, yet the fear of overstepping bound me in place. I longed to ease her burden, to offer her reassurance in the face of uncertainty, but the words remained lodged in my throat, unspoken and heavy.

As the plane leveled out and hit its cruising altitude, we hit a small bump of turbulence, and her hands tightened around the armrests. Her breaths came in shallow gasps.

Instinctively, I reached out, finding her knee in the darkness. With a gentle squeeze, I sought to offer her reassurance. Everyone else was unaffected. Dirks was snoring, and the rest of the cabin was silent, except for a few hushed voices and the rustling of papers coming from the front of the plane.

“Fuck it,” I whispered, then reached for her hand gripping the armrest of the seat.

Her eyes widened, a fleeting moment of uncertainty flashing across her features. Yet as my hand enveloped hers, a sense of calm seemed to wash over her, her muscles relaxing ever so slightly.

For a moment, we existed in our own little bubble again, insulated from the rest of the world by the warmth of our connection. The hum of the plane’s engines faded into the background, replaced by the soft rhythm of our synchronized breaths.

As the turbulence subsided and the plane stabilized, she leaned into my touch, her body seeking solace in my presence.

At that moment, a surge of emotion welled within me, and an overwhelming tide of longing and desire threatened to consume me whole. Yet I held back, unwilling to let my emotions spill over and disrupt the fragile peace we had found this last month.

Instead, I simply savored the intimacy of the moment, relishing the feeling of her hand in mine and the warmth of her skin against my own.