Chapter Fourteen

Karrie

I watch the city fade away till we are in the clouds. I close my eyes, blocking out all the buzz in the plane. We have been on the road for the last six days and I’m dying to climb into my bed. It’s been six days of dodging the press. They are trying to get anything they can to make Matthew be the asshole.

After we put out a statement that the picture was an old one, it was one old story after another. I know it’s playing on Matthew’s mind and his game. He got six penalties tonight and was benched the last three shifts of the game. It didn’t help that they are on a losing streak. Night after night, we would fall asleep in the same bed, him holding me, but I feel he is almost shutting down.

By the time the plane touches down, it’s three a.m. I walk off the plane and head to the car waiting for us. Once we get inside and away from everyone’s eyes he finally grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips. “You okay?” I ask him softly.

“Not even a bit, but I’m happy to be home. I don’t have to practice tomorrow, but I think I’ll go in and just skate with Phil,” he says while he looks out the window. “I fucking hate this shit.”

“It’ll blow over,” I tell him, hoping to fuck it’s the truth. I don’t know if I can put up with much more. The pictures of him half naked, with girls all over him, make my stomach hurt. The only thing I think makes it better is that it’s never the same girl. Puck bunnies at their finest.

When we walk into the house we don’t even open the lights, going upstairs straight to my room that has slowly become our room. His suits now hang in my closet, his clothes are in my drawers, his shampoo in my shower. His razor on my sink. Our clothes in the laundry basket.

I wake up the next day to an empty bed but a note rests on the bedside.

At the rink. Text you later.

I put my phone back down and get up, grabbing my robe while I walk to the bathroom. Matthew wasn’t joking when he said naked to bed. I learned this mistake when we were in the hotel room. I went to bed with a T-shirt. When he came in and saw, he walked right back out and came back in. I didn’t really pay much attention to him till he turned me on my back, straddled my thighs, and cut my T-shirt right down the middle. Cut. It. Right. Down. The. Middle.

“Babe, naked.” Is all he said till he leaned down, taking a nipple in his mouth. After that, I went to bed naked each time for fear that my clothes would end up in shreds.

I’m washing my face when I hear my phone ringing in the other room. I run back and grab the phone to see it’s Vivienne.

“Bonjour.” Hello, I answer in French.

“Salope.” Slut, she answers back, making me laugh. “Are you finally back in New York?” I hear beeping in the background, so I know she is walking down the street somewhere in the city.

“Yes. Thank God.” I walk down to the kitchen, starting the coffee. “I’m home for a whole five days. I’m planning to watch television and make a permanent mark on the couch cushion.” I make a list in my head of all the shows I’m going to be watching for the next five days.

“Good. I’m on my way to you. We need to catch up,” she tells me the minute I hear the bell buzz.

“Are you here already?” I ask, walking to the door and seeing the UPS guy. “It’s UPS. Get your ass over here, or I’m starting Below Deck without you.” I hang up right when she starts cursing in French again. I open the door and smile at the UPS guy when he asks if I’m Karrie Cooney. When I tell him I am, he makes me sign for the huge box. He brings it in, placing it on the floor next to the table. Once I close the door behind him I walk to the box with an Red Apple logo on the corner. I pick it up, struggling with it while I leave it on the table in the living room. I go to the kitchen to make my coffee and grab a knife to open the box. My phone beeps with an incoming message. I grab it, seeing it’s from Matthew.

On my way home! Don’t open the box till I get there.

I squeeze my eyebrows together, thinking what the hell could be in that box. I don’t have time to think about it anymore because there’s a knock at the door. I smile to myself, knowing it’s Vivienne. She is the only one who refuses to ring. Walking to the door, I smile seeing her face plastered to the door.

“Fofolle.” Crazy girl, I tell her, opening the door.

“I come with presents.” She puts the bag up, showing me that she stopped to get croissants.

“Then you can come in.” I walk away while she closes the door, shrugs off her coat, and throws her purse on the table.

“Are we going to watch Below Deck naked?” she asks, making fun of me and my new rule.

“Très drôle!” Very funny, I tell her. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to go get dressed. I wasn’t expecting company today,” I tell her, walking up the stairs, throwing on a pair of shorts and a team T-shirt with Matthew’s name on it.

I walk downstairs right when Matthew walks in. He’s in his team tracksuit, scruff on his face, baseball cap backward. He takes off the jacket, leaving him in the same shirt I’m wearing just bigger and tighter on him. His muscles fill it out. My mouth waters watching him. He tosses the keys on the table, his smile lighting up.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly, walking to me while I stand on the last step, “and she’s wearing my name.” His arms wrap around my waist, picking me up. My arms wrap around his neck, my face going into his neck. He smells of his soap, so I know he showered at the rink.

“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt first base, but,” Vivienne says, leaning against the door to the living room. “Oh, presents,” she says, spotting the box, clapping her hands together once she puts her cup down.

“Um,” Matthew says, putting me down. “I think.” He doesn’t say anything else since Vivienne picks up the knife and cuts open the top of the box.

Once the box is open, she throws her hands up in the air, laughing. “Home run. It’s going to be a home run.” She laughs, picking up a box that’s inside the box. “Look at all this,” she continues while she takes box after box out of the box.

I walk over to the table. Picking up the box, my eyes go wide. It’s a sex box. Not just a little sex box, it’s filled with everything I think this company sells.

A vibrator, a rabbit vibrator, anal plugs, cuffs, a clit vibrator, bullets, cock rings, lubes, lotions, edible stuff, a cheerleading costume that’s so small it fits into the palm of my hand.

“Oh. My. God. Are you insane? You just threw my vibrator out the window two weeks ago. Now you got me not one, but a million,” I say, trying to put everything back in the box, but I’m failing since Vivienne is still pulling things out. I look back at Matthew, who comes in and throws himself on the couch, picking up the box of nipple clamps.

“I ordered a treasure chest that only I will have the key for, so I'm locking it all up when I leave. Besides, that was yours, this is ours!” he says matter-of-factly.

“Oh, this is my favorite toy,” Vivienne says while she holds up what is called Eve’s triple pleasure rabbit. “I could go all day with this one. I usually last maybe a minute it’s so powerful. Don’t go full power or you’ll be done in thirty seconds flat.” She hands me the box and I take it in my hand. There are three parts to this vibrator, one for my pussy, one for my ass, and another for my clit. “Don’t blush, chéri,” she says to me while I stand here blushing because I'm actually standing in my living room with my best friend and my, I don’t even know what he is, my naked sleeping partner while we take in the box of dicks.

“I’m not blushing,” I tell her while I look at Matthew, who is now holding the anal plug trainer’s kit. “Is that for you?” I ask him while Vivienne snickers, pulling up the bondage kit.

“Babe, this is all yours.” He throws down another box next to him, grabbing the cheerleading outfit. Opening it, I see it’s a tube top and the smallest plaid skirt ever. “I want you wearing this tonight.”

“Naked, isn’t that what you said?” I put my hands on my hips while he leans in and grabs me to sit on his lap.

He pulls my head to him, whispering in my ear, “I want you wearing this while you bend over in front of me and I eat your pussy while I slip a plug up your ass.” He nips my earlobe. “We are doing all the bases tonight.” He kisses my neck while I sit on his lap completely aroused now.

Vivienne is pretending not to watch us but is smirking. She tosses me the lube. “For you right before you bend over.” She laughs, making Matthew throw his head back and laugh. It’s the first time he has laughed since that whole picture leaked.

I get up, grabbing all the things that are on the table, throwing them in the box, smacking Vivienne’s hands while she tries to take them back out. “Enough of this. You”—I point to Matthew—“take this upstairs to the attic. I’m not using any of this.” And then I point to Vivienne. “And you, you are on my side!”

“I’m always on your side, which is why I told you to use the lube.” She shakes her head, sitting down on the couch, kicking her ballerina shoes off. “Now let’s watch Below Deck.”

“Yup, I’m out,” Matthew says while he grabs the box from the table. “I’m going to put this all away in your closet, babe. You just lost a shoe shelf.”

“Matthew, I will snap one of your hockey sticks if you touch even one pair of shoes.” I glare at him. “You want to use a shelf, put your clothes in your room.”

He bends his head, kissing me on the lips, making me forget what I was saying.

“You have it so bad, you don’t even know it,” Vivienne says while I watch Matthew walk out of the room.

“Vas te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself, I tell her while I sit on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing the remote, and putting our show on. We sit and watch three hours of reality television before Matthew comes back downstairs.

“This was exactly what I needed today. Merci, mon amie,” she says, getting up, putting her shoes on, “but I have a date tonight and I need to exfoliate.” She kisses me on the cheek, looking at Matthew. “As the Americans say, ‘God Speed.’”

He throws up his hand to high-five her.

“A plus tard.” See you later, she says, walking out of the room, slamming the door behind her as she walks out.

“I really like your friend,” Matthew says, lying down on the couch, putting his head in my lap. “We should hook her up with Phil.”

I shake my head. “We have a pact. She doesn’t set me up. I don’t set her up.”

“Fine,” he says, “I’ll let Phil do all the work.”

I shake my head while Matthew grabs the remote, puts it on SportsCenter, and we sit here and watch all the highlights from last night. The best thing about it, not a single word about Matthew and that fucking picture.