12
“Let me carry those for you,” Chris said, reaching for my gear bags as we made our way back up to the parking lot. As soon as he took them, I wrapped my arms tightly across my chest. “God, you’re freezing, come here,” he said, as he reached his other arm out and pulled me in close as we walked.
Once we arrived at the parking lot, he followed me to my Jeep, I unlocked it, and opened the door for him to set my bags in the back. The rest of my teammates were beginning to leave, and the parking lot was clearing out.
“How about we go get some ice cream?”
“Ice cream? Are you serious? I’m already freezing. I wish I could sit in a sauna.”
“Yeah, it’s always tradition to go to Friendly’s after we win our games. Come on. It’ll be fun. Meet me there. You know where it is, right? If not, you can follow me,” he said without giving me the opportunity to turn him down.
I shook my head incredulously, then got in my car, turned on the heat, and sat there for a minute waiting for the car to warm up. He beeped his horn signaling for me to hurry up, but my biker shorts were a mix of sweat and ice water, so I slide them off and tossed them in the back seat so that it wouldn’t get the driver’s seat all wet. Then I finally put the car in drive and followed him out of the parking lot.
Once I arrived at Friendly’s, I parked and met him at the sidewalk. There was already a line forming out the door, but it was moving quickly. Apparently, some of my teammates had the same idea because they were also waiting in line ahead of us. Some of them turned to greet me from halfway inside the door.
“Allie! Hey! Great game!” one of their parents said.
“Thanks, Mrs. Matthews,” I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Public attention made me nauseous, which Chris seemed to notice as I tried to make myself as small as possible.
“You okay?” he asked, as he reached down and touched my fingertips lightly with his. It made me shiver, but I smiled and then recoiled my fingers into the sleeves of his hoodie. “I can’t get over seeing you in my hoodie. I want to dive into it with you,” he said in a low voice near my ear.
“You know people can hear you, right?” I asked quietly in horror.
“I don’t care,” he whispered with no remorse as he leaned in closer.
My eyes went wide in embarrassment. The line moved forward, and the hostess asked us how many were in our party. As we stood in front of the cake display, she went to clear a table for us.
“Which one of those is your favorite?” he asked, signaling towards the stadium of colorful cakes.
“The confetti cake with vanilla icing and sprinkles,” I said. “What about you?”
“How did I know you were going to pick that one? I’d probably go for the double chocolate,” he replied.
“Gross. You can have it. I can’t stand chocolate ice cream or chocolate cake.”
“What! You don’t like chocolate?”
“I like some types of chocolate, but not chocolate cake or chocolate ice cream. I’m weird, I know,” I shrugged.
When the hostess returned, escorted us to a booth in the middle of the restaurant, and I slid in, with Chris sliding in right beside me, unexpectedly. I assumed he would sit across from me, but his warmth was welcomed since I was still chilled. Then the hostess passed us menus and told us our server would be right with us.
When the server arrived, she introduced herself, took our drink orders, and asked if we were expecting anyone else.
“Nope. Just us,” Chris replied with a smile. She nodded and left to get our drinks.
“What are you going to get?” he asked, as he pawed through the 5-page menu. “I always get a triple fudge brownie sundae with a cherry, I don’t know why I bother to even look through this thing,” he said, as he closed his menu, set it down on the table, and turned to look at me while I kept looking at the menu.
“I don’t know, all these options are overwhelming. I’ll get a mint chocolate chip milkshake, I guess.”
The server returned and took our orders. Once she left, Chris turned to me, and suddenly I felt his fingertips on my knee under the table.
“Hey,” he said softly in a seductive voice into my ear. His featherweight fingertips started to travel slowly up my leg until they got higher up my thigh, and I reached my hand down to stop him, then looked at him.
“What are you doing?” I asked quietly. “We’re in a restaurant. There are people who recognize me in here.”
“Nobody can see anything. Just act normal,” he said as he gently bucked my hand away from his and continued his quest. His fingers met the hem of my hockey skirt as I scanned the room nervously, then met his eyes. “Trust me,” he said.
I felt his fingertips duck under the hem and keep going slowly up my leg, then slid down between my thighs that were tightly pressed together. My muscles were flexing in anticipation of what he had in mind. His fingertips motioned for me to move my legs apart a little. This time, I decided not to deny him. Then he kept going higher until I felt him meet the most sensitive spot between my legs. I sucked in a breath at his touch, and he suddenly stopped and looked at me.
