Beyond the Game: Chapter 5

“What…in the…” Rory stops in her tracks as she walks through the door. “What are you doing?”

Pass second stitch over the first…

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I told you I was learning to knit.”

She cackles. “You? Knit?”

“Yeah. What’s the big deal?” My tongue pokes out the side of my mouth as I wrap my yarn around the needle counterclockwise and then pull it through the first loop, guiding it with my index finger. “It’s supposed to be relaxing. Hawk’s brother knits. Did you know that? Anyway, he told me it might help me with my restlessness.”

Whatever has been going on with me this summer, it’s been driving me up a fucking wall. I find myself bored and moody more often than not, even when I have an open schedule and plenty of money to do whatever the hell I want. Nothing I consider sounds intriguing to me. The only thing I’ve spent more than ten minutes contemplating is the idea of driving to Michigan and searching for the one person I know who lives there.

Amanda.

Hell, I don’t even know her real name.

The woman in the black bikini.

The woman who touched me in ways no one ever has.

The woman who made me come harder than I ever have in my life.

The woman I haven’t stopped thinking about since the night we spent together in Key West.

She was celebrating all things new in her life and her confidence and bravery were attractive as hell.

She was without a doubt the best sex I’ve ever had.

Rory hangs her purse on the hook by the door and drops her teacher bag on the floor and then crosses the room to sit next to me, eyeing my every move. “Where did you even learn to do that?”

“YouTube.”

“Are you serious?”

I take my eyes off my needles momentarily to look at her. “Yeah. Why?”

“Like, did you actually walk yourself into a craft store to buy that yarn?”

“Fuck no.” Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I might have mentioned to Mrs. Pinkle the other day when I ran into her in the elevator that I thought about learning to knit and she showed up the next day with everything I needed and offered to give me a lesson.”

She chuckles. “You’re shitting me.”

“I totally shit you not,” I smile right along with her.

“You better watch out for dear old Mrs. Pinkle, Dexter. I think she has a crush on you.”

“Nah, she’s just lonely. I try to say hello whenever I see her.”

“Pffft. She’s not lonely.” Rory lifts herself from the oversized couch and crosses over to the kitchen to open the fridge. “She has like what, four corgis now? She hired a professional dog walker you know. God, if she spoke with a British accent, I may very well think she’s the Queen. Hey what do you want for dinner?”

“What are you makin’?” I smirk again but I keep my eyes on my hands, so I don’t mess up my gorgeous ten rows of knitting. Rory doesn’t always cook meals around here, nor do I expect her to, especially in the off season when I’m more than capable. She does usually help me out during the season though when she knows I carry a demanding schedule, but now that she’s back to school and I’m just starting preseason conditioning, I try to ease a little of the household burden and do more around our condo.

Maybe it’s weird that we’re still living together after all these years, but I know she doesn’t make a ton of money as an elementary school teacher and I make more than I need, so I’ve always taken it upon myself to take care of her. I may only be a few years older than my little sister, but I was there for her when our parents weren’t. We’re bonded and until one of us finds someone to settle down with, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon, I figure I may as well let her save as much money as she can since I can afford for us to live in a nice place.

It’s the least I can do.

“I’m just kidding, by the way,” I tell her. “I ordered from Wong’s.”

She shuts the fridge and turns to look at me, her eyes wide. “Did you get the egg rolls?”

“Did I get the eggrolls,” I murmur. “Of course, I got the egg rolls. In fact, I got you four egg rolls. And had to tell Mr. Wong himself about your obsession.”

“You did not!” She laughs and runs over to throw her arms around my neck, kissing the top of my head. “Just what I was craving. Thank you!”

Rory’s phone dings in her pocket so she pulls it out to look at it and gasps.

“She’s really pregnant! Oh, my gosh.”

“What?” My head snaps up. “Who’s pregnant? Charlee? Smallson? Why didn’t they tell us?”

“No, no. Her name is Tate. She’s one of my newest school friends. I’m her mentor this year.”

“Oh gotcha. Okay. I don’t have to care about that, right?”

“Have you fucked Tate or any of my other friends lately?”

I raise my eyes from my knitting just enough to give her a displeased look. “You know, contrary to what you must believe, I don’t fuck every woman I meet.”

“Well, that’s relatively good to know. So, no. You don’t know her. Will probably never meet her. And now that she’s pregnant if you ever do meet her, you won’t bother trying to fuck her so nope. You’re safe. Anyway, that’s who the text was from. She was going to test when she got home. I guess it’s positive. Poor thing. She’s new in town. Doesn’t have anyone here.”

“She’s not married?”

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Hmm. That sucks for her,” I state as I knit my twelfth row. “Tell her not to worry. You’re now invested and will be the best damn Auntie Rory her little kid has ever had.”

She giggles, but she knows I’m right. “You’re right. I love kids. What can I say?”

“You’ll have that child singing those Go-Noodle songs before it can walk. I swear if I have to hear shit about all the eggs being broken and pepperoni pizzas one more time, I’m going to stick these needles in my ears and puncture my own ear drums.”

She cackles this time. “You know me so well.”

DING DONG.

“That’ll be dinner.”

Rory gets up to answer the door. “So, what are you making with all that yarn, exactly?”

Hmm. I never really thought about what I would actually make with this knitting project.

A pair of socks?

A sweater?

Nah. Way too complicated.

A scarf maybe?

“I guess I’m making a baby blanket.”

Yeah, that should be easy enough.

___

I tap a few buttons on the treadmill, increasing my speed, welcoming the sweat as it drips from my body. With the official start of preseason coming next month, I’ve upped my conditioning game in order to be in my best shape. This year, we’re bringing home the fucking cup if it kills me. If that means picking up an extra workout throughout the week, so be it. It’s good for my mindset right now anyway.

I’ve had way more pent-up energy this summer than I remember having before. I’ve done a slow jog if not a full four and a half mile run every day. That coupled with my strength training is hell on my body but it’s still not enough to settle my mind. I took up knitting because Hawk noticed I’ve been irritable since getting back from Key West and thought maybe keeping my hands and brain busy creating something would help. Even Rory accused me of man-struating on a few occasions, which only pissed me off even more.

“Welcome to my life,” is all my little sister had to say to me.

Admittedly, it’s getting annoying, even for myself, and at this point, I feel like I’ve tried everything I can do to release the tension.

That’s not true.

I haven’t tried everything.

But that’s only because for the first time in my adult life, the interest just isn’t there.

It’s not like women haven’t tried to get me to sleep with them in the past couple months. Hell, I even found myself lip locked with some chick at the bar a couple weeks ago, but I didn’t feel a fucking thing and my cock wasn’t interested.

When the treadmill beeps, I lower my speed and jog out the rest of my workout, finally coming to stop and grabbing the t-shirt hanging on the bar to dry my face.

Hawken lowers the barbells in his hands and looks up at me from his bench. “Still that bad, huh?”

Drying the sweat from my face, I toss my shirt next to my water bottle. “If I don’t figure my shit out quick, this is going to be fucking hell of a season and Coach is going to chop my sad lonely dick right off so I stop worrying about it.”

“Is that really your concern? Where all this pent-up energy is coming from? Because you can’t get laid?”

If Hawken wasn’t my best friend, I might’ve punched him in the nuts just now.

“Dude, it’s not that I can’t get laid. It’s that I have zero interest in even pursuing it.”

Hawk cocks his head. “Since when does Dex Foster not want to get laid?”

I plop down on one of the workout benches near him. “Right? Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that for months now. But ever since Key West the interest is gone. So, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why isn’t my dick working for me anymore?”

His brows shoot up. “You mean it’s seriously not working? Like, not even for you?”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay, it works for me, alright? But even that…Fuck, I use to jack off every damn day, but now? Even my fist doesn’t sound appealing.”

“That’s a hell of a cock block, Dex.”

“Fuckin’ right it is. Now how do I get rid of it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Bro. This is still about the girl, right? The girl from Key West?”

“Amanda.”

“Amanda,” he repeats with a laugh. “Amanda Hugginkis. I remember. Dude, I’ve never seen you hung up on a woman before.”

“Trust me. I’ve never been hung up on a woman before.”

And that’s the truth. I’m always the one and done guy. The one who gets what he wants from the lady he’s with and then easily sends her on her way. Though, for some weird reason, I never thought about sending Amanda away. Once she sucked me off and gave me an orgasm so intense, I damn near forgot where I was, I wanted her to stay. I wanted more of her. I wanted to experience all I could before she ended up nothing but a happy dream. I wanted to bottle her up and save her. Like my own genie in a bottle.

I don’t do relationships, but I happily would’ve done Amanda—or whatever her name really is, again and again, and again had I not fucking fallen asleep. Never in my life have I come across a woman who had no inhibitions when it came to being heard or pleasured but then also gave it right back. Sure, women always want to suck my dick, but I’ve always justified their actions with the thought that they just want to be able to say they’ve sucked off a famous hockey player.

But Amanda had no idea who I was.

She agreed to a night of orgasms for her.

A night of pleasure for her.

Neither of us ever said a damn thing about me.

But she gave the pleasure right back. Willingly.

And that meant something to me.

I can’t put words to it, but it fucking meant something.

“Maybe you need to find her. Maybe have one more go with her and see if it helps.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to find a woman named Amanda Hugginkis who lives in Michigan? That’s an impossible task since it’s not even her real name and trust me, I’ve looked. Every profile I come across ends up being for some drag queen somewhere. Did you know there are seventy Amanda Hugginkises on just one social media platform? If she’s on social media at all, she clearly doesn’t go by that name. She never told me her real name or where in Michigan she lives. And come to think of it, she told me she interviewed for a job in a new town so who knows if she A – got the job, and B – had to move to said new town to take the job. I basically don’t know shit about her except that teaches first grade.”

Quinton saunters into the gym, setting his water bottle on one of the shelves just inside the door.

“What’s up fuckers?”

“Just trying to help Foster here figure out why his dick is on strike.”

“Whose dick is on strike?” Colby asks as he follows behind Quinton.

“Foster’s.”

“What’s up, Foster? You need a wingman or just a pretty fluffer?”

“No, I don’t need a wingman. I just need—”

“The mystery woman from Key West,” Hawk finishes my sentence. “That’s who he needs. Apparently, she broke his dick.”

“The one-night stand?” Colby’s brows lift. “You’re still on about her?”

“Ugh.” I frown. “She didn’t break my dick. I think she…I don’t know. I think she broke me.”

Colby smirks. “Awww I think Dexter has a crush!”

“Shut the fuck up, Nelson.”

Colby laughs. “You know we love you man. But seriously, it’s been what? Two, almost three months?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a long time for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. I’m starting to feel like a fucking priest.” It’s not like my frustration has stayed locked up good and tight inside. The whole team has seen my mood swings these past couple months.

“Taking any supplements you’ve never taken before?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Have you had your testosterone checked?” Quinton asks me.

“I get physicals just as regularly as you all do. Everything has been squeaky clean.”

“So, what can we do to help? You need to go out tonight? You want to bypass Pringle’s and look somewhere else? You need some fresh porn to open you up? What?”

Pringle’s Pub is the one place in town that always provides the team a safe place to hang out where we can be undisturbed most of the time. They’ve always treated us like royalty because we bring them so much business, especially during the regular season. It’s also the place I’ve easily been able to pick up women. All the single ladies know the team hangs out there regularly so there’s never a shortage of willing puck bunnies.

But I simply have no appetite for any of them.

“Nah. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out eventually.” I pick up my water bottle and chug half of it and then grab my sweaty t-shirt. “Thanks though. I’ve gotta hit the showers.”

Hawk claps my shoulder as I pass by him. “Hey don’t worry man. You’ll get your mojo back. I’m sure of it.”

Someone tell that to my dick.