Kit
One week later, I miss an easy shot and my trainer, Jack, shouts across the ice, “Where’s your head?”
“Why you givin’ me shit, eh? I told you, I haven’t been sleeping so good.” I don’t tell him how her face haunts me, her sweet voice rings inside my head, and my chest hurts most the time.
“Don’t tell me you’re still mooning over that figure skater.” He rushes across the rink, turns fast, and sprays me with ice.
“C’est stupide, non?” I wipe my face and shrug.
“Yeah, it’s stupid. Do whatever it takes and put her out of your head and get back in the game.”
He’s right. I worked damn hard to get where I am. Yet after an hour, even after water drips off my chest and my t-shirt is soaked, I still see her. She’s wearing my white dress shirt and heels, just begging to be fucked. I want her so bad, I’m a mess.
A puck comes out of nowhere, hits me in the chin, and stings like hell.
“In the game, Tufek.” Jack gives me a disgusted look and I rush across the ice clenching my stick, ready to show him and myself, I’m worthy of being a Ranger.
After that, it’s weights, footwork, and a shower.
Every day, I surf social media in the wee hours of the morning. Staring at the familiar Facebook photos. I’ve tried to friend her, tried to find her number, and even hired Andy to talk to her for me.
There’s no other way around this. I need to go overseas and get her back.
Even though it’s late, I call my assistant. “Hey Maddie, can you book me a hotel with facilities and some rink time? In Moscow. Tomorrow.”
“Are you serious? Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry. Listen. I promise, after dat, if she doesn’t want me, I’ll give up. Book me back on the eleventh. I need a couple days to recoup before training camp.
On the plane in first class, my legs don’t fit so I don’t try to sleep. Instead, for thirteen hours straight, I rehearse how to convince Sonia to give us, me and her, a chance. I swear, if I can’t, I’ll have to find a priest to give me an exorcism. This is just plain nuts. She’s on my mind every fucking minute of every fucking day.
Not only that, the more time that goes by, the more I miss her. For God’s sake, we were only together for that one day. How can this be? I haven’t laughed since she left. That has to mean something, eh? What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she believed what I said in the hotel room?
Like this, my thoughts spin until I exit the plane and grab a cab to where I’m told she practices on the ice. My heart beats like it did when I was a teen and my hands sweat as I open the rink door.
Then, I spot her gliding like an angel and gasp. It’s as if time stands still. She’s even more incredibly beautiful than I remember.
Her new music is rock with a hint of country. Around and around the rink she flies, line dancing as if on a barn floor. When she launches into the air, she twirls, and nails the landing. A huge grin spreads across her face until she spies me.
Merde. Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for.
She catches an edge on her next jump and falls.
This is my fault so I rush out onto the ice. “Are you okay?”
When she stops twisting on her ass, she glares bullets at me and shouts in Russian, “Of course I’m alright. What’re you doing here, Comrade-Hot-Puck? Run out of pussy?”
I struggle to find even one of the words that I’d rehearsed all night long but my mind goes blank and with my throat all choked up, it’s tough to talk.
“Sonia.” I drop to my knees, and clasp her hands, shaking.
When her eyes meet mine, the centers grow dark, and the little anger lines between her brows soften.
Fuck, what she does to me. When her lips approach mine, I know God must exist because she’s my salvation. I close the small distance between us, willing myself to slow down. I can’t mess this up. I need her to know what I’m feeling, how lost I am without her.
Gently I work her mouth, my hands slip to her waist, and pull her to her feet. Soft hands slip to the back of my neck, making chills run up and down my spine.
It’s good and so right, my cock swells until it hurts.
“Fuck, I missed you.” My arms wrap around her small body and I spin her around on the ice while the tips of her blades poke at my shins.
Somewhere in the distance there’s people laughing and clapping. Oh shit, I didn’t even notice. There’s a small audience in the spectator’s seats.
I wave and shout out in Russian. “She’s not angry!”
Her eyes are bright, cheeks blushing bright red. “I must have been a very good fuck for you to come all this way.”
“About that…”
Her palm touches my cheek. “Thank you for coming but I must finish my practice.”’
Am I getting the brushoff? Hell no. “I’m not leaving until we talk, Sonia. I don’t get it but I fucking care about you.”
Sonia’s eyes widen, and she smiles, making stuff inside my stomach churn. Then, a woman, who I figure is her coach skates over and says in Russian. “Give him your number. Get on with it so we can finish here.”
After she writes it down, I say, “And I want your hotel and room number.”
The coach raises her eyebrows at me and I don’t give a fuck. I got my Sonia and we’re going to fuck hard and long.
Sonia nods, blushing, her beautiful almond eyes bright with tears. She skates to the opening in the rink, digs into her bag, and exits with her key.
“Give me a couple hours, okay?”
I watch for a while until she makes my cock so hard that I may grab her and take her in the restroom. Thinking that might not be my best option, I grab a cup of coffee from a concession stand.
When I spy a team of hockey players in one of the other rinks. I tap a guy’s shoulder who I think is the coach and introduce myself. Before you know it, I’m geared up and in a wicked pick-up game. For the first time in weeks, I’m back, and not some asshole pretending to be a professional. Beat up and bruised, I decline their offer for vodka and explain my reason for being in Moscow.
Laughing with rude words of encouragement, they slap me on the back, find me a cab, and send me off to her hotel. Her room smells like some sweet flower that reminds me of a field I played in as a kid. Wondering what it is, I check out her perfume near the bathroom sink. Unlike me, her stuff is all lined up in a perfect row, clothes put away in drawers.
Smiling, I shower, strip, and not having slept for over twenty-four hours, crash.