Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part One (12 page)

Her dad looked like he wanted to string me up and lock her down. Her mom grabbed his arm. “Now, Tak, calm down.”

“Kelly,” her dad said. “I thought I told you that Phil was not supposed to be here when we’re not home.”

“Well, um, you said not if we were alone. And we’re not.” She motioned with her head towards Roger.

Roger looked up from his model painting. He widened his eyes. “Yeah, Dad. They’ve been here the whole time. We even played Risk and I won.”

Kelly and Roger were totally different. The kid was an awesome liar.

P
hil

I
n bed that night
, I was too amped to fall asleep. Kelly had been so hot, and when I closed my eyes I could remember every single thing she did and how it felt. It was probably the best blowjob I’d ever had. It wasn’t so much her technique, but her enthusiasm. She didn’t act like she was doing me a big favour or trying to show off. Kelly always gave her all.

I exhaled happily. Next time we got a little privacy, we could finally have sex. I figured we could do it in the car, but I was hoping for a nicer setting. I felt bad that we got interrupted and I never got to get Kelly off. I could not believe that fucking prick Ericcson was still calling. Did he really think she’d come back to him if he promised to change?

I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Of course Kelly was special, and even a moron like him got that. I tried really hard not to think about what she might have done with him because that shit would drive me crazy. I turned over and thought about Kelly again, how she looked up at me while she was blowing me and—fuck!

What if he was right? What if Kelly dumped him because he was pressuring her to go all the way? I had already noticed that Kelly was skittish. She hadn’t even told me that her parents were going out, and I sort of forced myself on her. In more ways than one. Hopefully, she didn’t get in trouble after I left.

There was no question that I was pushing the pace faster than she wanted. She didn’t even want to start dating in the first place, and she was always talking about going slow. Did that mean that Kelly might break up with me if I kept going on this way?

She said she had broken up with Nicklas because he was such a jerk-off at hockey. Ericcson didn’t know about the Tanaka Scale and he didn’t know how important hockey was to her. But even if that was the main reason, maybe subconsciously it was because she didn’t like being pressured. I knew Kelly. She seemed so easy-going, but only up to a point, and then she would dig her heels in. And it was hard to predict where that point was. And I knew that these days there were a lot of guys who would be more than happy to sub in for me with Kelly.

Fuck it. I had to stop acting like a horny jerk and give her some space.

T
weeeeeeeet
.

This fucking prima donna was lying on the ground beside the soccer ball. When the whistle blew, he stopped acting long enough to raise his head and see if the ref was coming over to us. He was.

“Get up, you fucking pussy. I hardly touched you,” I told him. But he was back into the fetal position and writhing around.

“Number 6.” The ref looked at me and held up a red card.

“No way! It was clean—I was going for the ball,” I pleaded.

“I warned you earlier, son,” the ref said. “Clearly a dangerous tackle.” He pulled out his little card and pen.

Simon, our coach, went ballistic on me as soon I got to the sidelines. “You daft cunt! What are you playing at out there? How are we supposed to win the game, down a man, with our best fullback off the field? Not to mention you can’t play the next effin’ match.”

“Sorry, coach,” I told him.

“You bloody hockey players are all the same. Too violent, always crossing the line. Controlled aggression, Davidson, that’s what we need.”

Yeah, but that was my big problem these days. I had a ton of frustration inside. I tried to work it out in sports. In hockey, I kept making these huge open ice hits and I had gotten into a couple of fights. Coach Jack gave me the whole lecture on testosterone and not giving in to my hormones. He didn’t know the half of it.

But I seemed to cross the line way too much. I wasn’t going to blame it on the fact I wasn’t having sex, but hanging out with Kelly and not touching her wasn’t helping me relax.

“Hey, Phil.” Daniel Ide, one of my teammates, came over. Everyone else was keeping his distance, since I was clearly pissed off. Daniel was a quiet guy; he was always a sub, but he never got upset about it. He was chill. “You know, you might want to try this martial arts place I go to. My uncle runs it, and they do some pretty cool stuff. Lots of guys that are into MMA go there.”

“I don’t know, Daniel. I’ve already got a ton of extracurricular shit on. I don’t think I could add anything else.”

“Try the drop-in then. It’s a good way to work out your anger.” He shrugged. “Y’know, if you have any.”

Great. Now guys I hardly knew were telling me I was out of control.

So I went to the dojo that Daniel had suggested. It turned out to be a huge deal for me. There were a bunch of young guys who were total idiots, but there was this one Asian guy who was an old-school sensei. He started to teach me about mind control: how to let your mind transcend your body's weaknesses. It was actually about overcoming pain, but I tried to use it to overcome my constant desire for Kelly.

It was unreal. We were together lots, and so we were holding hands and sitting side-by-side all the time. I had to smell her sweet, clean scent, and watch her being all cute and fun. Sometimes I would watch her breathing, and think about how her tits looked under her clothes. Knowing a little about her was so hot. But the unknown was even hotter. Like her ass. She would bend over to pick something up and all I could think of was what she would feel like when I finally got my hands on her. I dreamed about Kelly every single fucking night.

I was driving myself crazy, but I was going to let her make the first move no matter what. I hoped to God it would be soon though. There were only so many cold showers a guy could take.

“
I
s
it possible to be really lousy at oral sex?” I asked April when we were alone in the caf.

She choked on her orange juice and started coughing. “Kelly! You really need to warn me before you change subjects like that.”

“Sorry. It was on my mind.”

“What a dirty place that must be. And the answer is ‘yes.’ This guy I dated in Los Angeles was completely clueless. Luckily he was an actor, so he took direction well.”

I squinted at her. She claimed to have had this wild ride in L.A., but I knew she spent the whole time auditioning while being chaperoned by her mom. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’ve really done any of this stuff, or you’re exaggerating to be funny.”

“I’m an excellent actress, so you’ll never know. Don’t forget, you’re coming over on Wednesday so we can watch my cameo on Smallville.”

“It’s so exciting that you got on that show.”

“Well, they’ve been shooting around here for four seasons now, so eventually every actor under 20 is going to get a shot.” April tried to act casual, but she was very excited. “Anyway, let’s get back to your question. So, the great Phil Davidson is not the stud we were led to believe?”

“No! Absolutely not. Phil’s great.” Well, I didn’t know if he was great at that, but he was a great kisser and feeler of breasts. “It’s me, I’m wondering if I suck.”

“If you suck at sucking?” April laughed. Her boyfriend, Spencer Mills, slid in beside April and put his arm around her. Oh great, an audience.

“Who sucks at sucking?” he asked.

“Not me,” she said and kissed him.

“I can confirm that,” he said. “So, it must be you, Kelly.”

I shook my head. Maybe I did, but I wasn’t telling him anything. Spencer was kind of a bro and a blabbermouth. That was what was so hard about this, you couldn’t get any sex advice without everyone at school knowing everything. Which would get back to Phil faster than I could skate end to end.

Spencer leered at me. “Don’t worry. There is no such thing as a bad blow job.”

Maybe not, but then how come Phil had been avoiding anything sexual with me ever since that night at my house? I mean, I didn’t bite him or anything, and he came, so it had to be okay, right? I thought he had really enjoyed it. Was I supposed to say something complimentary about his penis when I saw it? But I was pretty sure Phil already knew that he was well endowed. Crap, why didn’t we cover this stuff in Health? All my insecurities about being inexperienced were coming to the surface again.

And I was becoming obsessed with Phil. He wore this cologne or body wash, I don’t even know what it was. It smelled like a mix of metal, cut grass and the ocean and I thought of as Pacific Lawnmower; a whiff of it turned me into a mouth breather. He fidgeted with his pen in class and I would be looking at his hands and wishing that he was touching me instead. When we made out, he had been incredible. The way he had touched my breasts, and kissed me everywhere—he was way better at that stuff than Nicklas. All he had to do was hold my hand or put his arm around me, and he was lighting up every frigging nerve ending in my body. But nothing was happening in private. What was wrong with me that he didn’t want to go farther? Maybe April had cursed me and I was going to die a shrivelled-up virgin.

Plus the frustration was messing up other parts of my life. After a lunch hour spent staring at the skin revealed between Phil’s t-shirt and boxers whenever he lifted his arms, I walked into Geography 12 and told the class that population of Canada was “thirty-sex million.” Everyone laughed at me, but the really embarrassing part was that the population was actually thirty-TWO million and not even thirty-six, so it was like I was just trying to insert the word sex in.

I realized that it was my idea in the first place; I asked him to take it slow, and he had. Right up until that night at my place where I apparently blew everything. But maybe he was still respecting my wishes, and I needed to show him I was ready. So when we were together, I started sitting closer to him, leaning against him, putting my hand on his thigh—nothing worked.

One day, I was at Phil’s place and he was playing a song he had written: a guitar melody with some rockin’ chords in the chorus.

“It’s really good,” I told him. Usually I couldn’t stare at Phil because he was totally aware of everything and I thought I would be showing him too much of how I felt about him. So it was nice to watch him play guitar, his long fingers moving over the frets, his lips slightly open, his hazel eyes vague with concentration. I used to find it relaxing when he played, but now watching him made me want to fool around with him. However, his scary mom was upstairs making dinner.

I cleared my throat and tried to be casual. “Maybe tomorrow night, instead of going to the party at Marcus’s, we could stay in.”

Phil stopped and stared at me. “Like where?”

“Here?”

With those squeaky stairs, we could fool around and hear in time if Greta was coming down. Or maybe she’d be out; his parents had a busy social life. Ever since that night my dad found Phil at our house, I suspected that he was turning down invites, because my parents seemed to stay home all the time.

He started playing again. “I thought you were looking forward to the party.” Yeah, but not as much as I was looking forward to exploring that whole lava thing.

“Sure, but you know, it would be nice to be, uh, alone.” Was that not a big enough hint for him?

Phil looked up from the guitar, and said, “Kelly, let’s not rush into anything.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Aren’t teenaged guys supposed to be the ones who are all ready to bonk you at the drop of a hat? Why did he want to wait? I did not understand Phil at all.

I
t was
girls’ night at Karen’s place with April and Charmaine. We were planning the grad kidnappings, and discussing logistics.

“I don’t know,” I groaned. “Do I really want to be awake at 3:00 in the morning when I could be sleeping?”

“Don’t be such a slug, Kelly,” April scolded me. “We only graduate once and this is a tradition.”

“A tradition? It’s hard to imagine our grandmothers deciding that kidnapping, cross-dressing, and partying with random guys before breakfast would be a good idea,” I groused. I thought this whole deal was dumb, but Karen insisted it would be fun.

“Not random guys,” Karen purred. “We get to choose. Of course we’ll get Phil. What does he wear to bed, Kelly? Are we going to catch him naked? Because that would be hot!”

“Don’t bother asking her,” April chimed in. “Kelly won’t tell me anything about Phil. It’s such a shame because he is supposed to be a major stud and I want details.”

I tried to look like a satisfied girlfriend who was hiding such details. I had no idea what Phil wore to bed, and she probably knew more than me about what a stud he was.

Charmaine was sweet as usual. “It’s nice that Kelly is discreet. She would want Phil to be discreet about her as well.” That was a good point; what was Phil telling his friends about his lack of action?

Karen already knew. “Phil doesn’t talk. When I was going out with Dave Vanderhauf, Dave would tease him about that.” Her voice went low in an imitation of Dave’s, “‘Yo bud, what’s the point of scoring with all the hottest girls at school if you never give up the goods?’”

“All the hottest girls at school, plus me,” I said unhappily. Maybe he did them because they were hot, and I was more like a sister.

“Are you fishing for compliments?” April demanded. “This whole ugly duckling thing is getting old. You’re a swan now, so accept it. You’re almost as hot as me. Plus Phil’s been going out with you three months longer than he ever went out with anyone else. Obs true love.”

Three months longer, but no action. What was it going to take?

That night I discovered the mother lode of sex info. Karen had a stack of
Cosmos
in her room, and they were filled with advice on “Satisfying Your Man” and “Ten Top Bedroom Tricks.” I started speed-reading and finally found the answer to my specific problem:

“Men are very visually oriented and can be turned on by what you wear. If you want to seduce him, use sexy lingerie and high heels to provide him with that extra stimulus for action. Your man will become a helpless love slave if you dress to please.”

Could it be that easy? I didn’t own a pair of high heels, but I could do the lingerie part. I mean, it was totally true that I didn’t dress in a sexy way. I liked wearing a lot of layers. Three or four layers were my normal: a bra, a cami, a v-neck t-shirt, and a hoody, for example. And Phil had complained about all my layers that night. Maybe if I dressed sexy, then he would make his move.

Now all I had to do was figure out a time when we would be alone, dress to please and voilà! I couldn’t really imagine Phil as a helpless love slave, but unless I started running an extra half hour each morning, I couldn’t handle the tension much longer.

I had a plan for Operation Seduction now and I put it into play the next week when we were studying at the library.

“So Phil, is your mom still playing bridge?”

“Yeah, every Wednesday afternoon.” Okay tomorrow, that was good. We’d have at least two hours, as long as Phil didn’t have any practices after school.

“Hey Phil, you know that English assignment we have on dystopia?”

“Mmmhmm.” Phil was doing some math calculations and not really listening.

“Could we work on it together? I’m having some problems with it.” Such a lie, my assignment had been done for a week.

“Sure, show it to me.”

“Um, I don’t have it here. Maybe we can go over it at your place, tomorrow after school?”

“Yeah okay, I don’t have anything. Come over whenever.”

I had spare last thing on Wednesday, so I ran home to get ready for Phil. First, I took a shower, washed my hair and shaved everywhere—well, almost everywhere. I put body lotion on and tried to get dressed. I actually got changed six times, since I was finding sexy really hard to achieve. I finally settled on my black matching bra and thong set, and then I added cut-off jean shorts that I found in the give-away pile because I thought they were too short, and a black lacy tank with spaghetti straps that I usually wore underneath stuff.

Of course, I couldn’t go out in public like this, so I added a big mauve hoody and zipped it up. My legs still felt way too exposed, but I figured that adding sweatpants on top would completely kill the mood. Lacking the high heels that would put me over the top, I wore flip-flops and went to Phil’s. On the way, a guy in a pick-up truck honked at me, which I took for a good omen.

Phil was downstairs playing his guitar, and I knocked on the sliding door. He came over to open it, dressed in a white t-shirt, faded jeans, and bare feet. He looked great, as usual. He had been working out a lot lately, and his arm muscles were really defined. He gave me a kiss on the top of my head, which was way too brotherly, and then sat down at the table where his binder was already open. He barely looked at me, and asked me where my assignment was.

Time to make my move. I unzipped my hoody and casually removed it. I felt totally exposed, as if I were already naked. I sat down beside him.

Nothing.

No reaction.

No helpless love slave.

Maybe I needed the high heels too, but I wasn’t giving up. We looked over the assignment and talked about it. I moved closer so that my body was touching his. Still nothing. My God, what was wrong with me? I was so frustrated that I finally asked him.

“Phil, do you not find me attractive?”

“Of course I do.”

Okay then, how about showing it, buddy? “Then, how come you never, um… try stuff with me?”

He replied calmly, “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that.”

Great, of all the eighteen-year-old guys in Canada, I had to pick the one gentleman. I was totally frustrated. “Well, there’s slow and there’s glacial speed.”

He looked me straight in the eye and his tone was mocking. “If you want something, Kelly, maybe you should go for it. Show me how much you want it.”

Well, if that was all it took I could be the aggressor. One last thing to check first. “When’s your mom home?”

“Not for a couple of hours.”

Wordlessly, I led him over to the couch and pushed him onto it. I stood in front of him, and unzipped my shorts and wriggled out of them. Then I peeled off the tank and threw it on the floor. Well, Phil?

I watched his mocking smile fade away and his eyes darken. He wanted me and he wanted me bad. At last!