Should not have had that shot. Meghan rarely did shots. But then again she rarely felt so revolted in the company of friends.

It was Canada Day and the party was on at Stamkos’ house. Like any good Canadian, Meghan was tipsy. Across the lawn, like any good NHL player in his prime, James was draped like a blanket over a little blond thing in a tube top who’d introduced herself as Becki, with an “i.” Her belly button ring was a butterfly.

They’d met an hour ago. Becki arrived with some guy Steven hadn’t seen in ages and made a beeline for anyone whose face she recognized from Sports Centre. It made Meghan laugh at the time - they were used to that. But what had once been a typical scenario of the guys pulling random girls was different now.

Steven doted on Kaylynn like Prince Charming following Cinderella around with a slipper. The remark Meghan had made about Steven falling in love was right - and he didn’t care who saw the arrow hit its mark. She had watched with a sick feeling in her stomach as Becki approached John in a giggling, glossy-lipped swoop. He was already talking to a few people at a picnic table, some of them girls, who probably mistook his niceness of vulnerability. One of Becki’s hands was on his shoulder before Meghan could blink, and John was stepping politely away just as quickly. She’d luckily walked right past Sam Gagner.

James had no such standards. Currently, he was either kissing Becki or trying to give her rescue breathing. Becki’s fingernails were bright pink where they clutched at his arm. Meghan told herself she didn’t care - she’d seen worse from James over the years. But lately he’d been so regular, so un-bro-like. At Dan’s birthday he just hung around, maybe even too closely, but for once he acted like a guy whose priority was having fun instead of getting laid. It was refreshing. So much so that Meghan had wondered if James was trying to change. And why. And for whom.

Not for me, she had wished at Dan’s party. Still she couldn’t help feeling that James knew the way to her heart, if he was willing to risk finding that door locked when he arrived. A kinder, gentler James Neal would be the way to start. But then she’d have to turn him down again, which she really didn’t want to do.

Apparently she had worried for nothing. He and Becki were near the outdoor wet bar, standing as much as groping, coming up for air to join in conversation every few minutes before they went back to work. It made Meghan’s stomach turn to see James’ hand creeping down Becki’s backside, toward the hem of her short-shorts. Once his fingers crossed that line….

Yuck, she winced and wrenched her eyes away. Hardly anyone else noticed. No one at this party expected better from James and certainly no one expected dignity or class from that girl. The whole thing pissed Meghan off. These guys might be young, beautiful and rich but they should still act like people.

A wave of angry disappointment was ready to break over her head when suddenly her feet were in the air, big arms around her from behind and a loud kiss landed on her neck, lower than she let almost anyone put their mouth on her body. Meghan yelped and came to a spinning stop against Michael Del Zotto’s huge chest.

“Let’s leave,” he said in greeting, a grin breaking across his face. “I can think of a hundred better ways to spend this night making up for all the nights I haven’t seen you this summer.”

“Such a romantic,” she laughed. It was easy to be mad at James but impossible to get angry with MDZ. His brown puppy dog eyes could almost be believed.

“I’ll buy you flowers,” Michael released her to stand, but didn’t let go. “Hell, I’ll even let you sleepover. But don’t tell anyone. Don’t want to ruin my reputation.”

“The only thing you ruin,” Meghan said, regaining her balance, “is a girl’s expectation of normal guys.” That got another kiss, even lower and louder than the first. She pawed uselessly in a feigned attempt to get Michael away, then huffed in mock-satisfaction when he finally detached himself.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Meghan admitted. And she had. Already her face was nothing but a smile, her happiness climbing the charts. No wonder girls crawled under and over Michael - he could make you forget everything else.

“Hear you’re breaking hearts across Ontario and one of them isn’t even mine.”

Meghan groaned. Michael shrugged, pure innocence in a body built for sin. “Steven told you.”

“He really is a woman. Loves to gossip.” DZ admitted, then he turned serious. “Nah, Meg, he was just worried about you. You know how Stammer is. Trying to fix everything. He wanted my professional advice.”

“And what was that?”

“Well as a professional hockey player, I think you’re right. Summer goes by way too fast. Which is the only reason you’ve managed to stay out of my bed all these years,” he said.

Meghan made a face that said, Oh is that all?

“But, as a professional...”

“Player, non-hockey specific,” she interjected.

“Ouch.” He looked at her in all seriousness. “As a professional guy, I get where they’re both coming from.”

Meghan waited a moment for more, but Michael’s gaze turned back to the party. Boys, she thought. How they hated talking about feelings. “And where is that, exactly?” she asked.

“Well, Tavares was toast the minute he met you. He’s a goober, Meg, but he’s a good guy. I asked around about him a little, just in case. Probably make a great boyfriend.”

Meghan’s mouth fell open slightly. Michael had asked around about John? And now he was admitting the liking the guy? Everything Michael said was totally obvious, of course, and leave him to need to ask someone how to see it, but still. She was stunned.

I fucking know all that! she wanted to say.It took a huge amount of effort not to look toward the picnic table where John was standing, in a blue polo shirt and shorts, a bottle of Sam Adams in his hand.

DZ lifted one eyebrow. “And then there’s Nealer.” It was safer, if not more pleasant, to look at where James and Becki were still going strong. And going north under her shorts. Meghan wondered what he’d looked like kissing her that night in his house.

“He’s running a lot of risks - losing you, settling down, growing up - but he’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“That you’re worth it,” Michael said.

“God, you really are a romantic,” Meghan said the words like they tasted bad.

He smiled. “He just has to get to you before I do.”

Before Meghan could say anything back, Michael was pulling her up and toward the bar. They’d have to pass James and Becki, but beyond them lay blissful ignorance at the bottom of a glass. “Shots?” he asked.
____

John was watching. Armed with a bottle because he knew he’d crush a can, John didn’t care if Meghan caught him glancing her way from the picnic table full of people telling funny stories. He managed enough fake laughs to get by. Mostly he tried not to want to punch Neal in the face.

It wasn’t even late - dusk was just settling in, the clocks all said quarter to ten. Canada Day was an all day affair that had started early. John had hit the golf course with Sam, dodged a few questions about Meghan and managed to stay sober until dinner. When they rolled up to Steven’s house, they were way behind some people.

Like James, who was full-on making out with a girl John had never seen before. Probably James hadn’t either, and never would again. But right in front of Meghan, Neal was giving this girl the full treatment. John saw Meghan looking vaguely sick a few times, her jaw set in a hard line, pretending she didn’t see them going at it.

He squeezed the bottle hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Dude, chill,” Sam said, freeing the empty beer and replacing it with a full one. The cold on John’s palm reminded him how long he’d been nursing the first. He tipped his head back and drained two thirds of the new beer in one gulp.

“Does he have to…,” John stepped away from the group. “Does he have to do that right in front of Meghan? I mean, one minute no one else can have her and the next he’s doing this?”

Sam took a swig of his own drink. “It’s pretty gross, I’ll give ya that. But they’re not together, right? I mean, your girl doesn’t look too upset.”

They both lifted their eyes to the porch, where Meghan was laughing with Michael Del Zotto. Another person John wanted to punch, just for fun. He was so tall and broad, straining his t-shirt like he shopped at Gap Kids. Even in the twilight, his teeth were bright white. Next to him, Meghan had her chin up and shoulders back. Her dark hair disappeared over shoulders left bare by a strapless, multi-colored print sundress that ended well above her knees. Everything about her, from the graceful curve of her arms to her defiant posture, made John ache.

“Don’t call her that,” he said. “She’s not my girl.”

Sam clapped him on the back. “And Neal’s not her guy.”
____

If two early shots were a bad idea, two more now sounded great. Meghan winced down a mouthful of tequilla then crammed a lime between her lips, the burst of flavor so tangy it almost hurt as it chased the fiery liquid down her throat. Michael was laughing, fanning himself. His skin was so tan Meghan had the momentary urge to lick his neck in search of a little salt.

Easy tiger, she thought. Big boys in tight clothes were the norm around here. It should take more than an ounce and a half of liquor to make her attack one.

Which is exactly when Michael passed her another drink.

“Do it quick, while the first one still burns! It’s easier!” he said. Or shouted. She could barely hear over the perfection of his teeth. This time Michael licked the inside of his own wrist - Meghan whimpered - tossed salt on it and held it out to her. The grains were course along her tongue, in contrast to the taut, smooth surface of Michael’s skin. She felt the blood pulse beneath her mouth: red, warm, thick. No wonder vampires bit people.

Then a glass was in her hand, a drink on it’s way down and the cold, sharp stab of lime jumped off right after it.

“Wooooooo!” Michael hollered. Someone cheered. “My turn,” he said. Meghan held his eyes as she slowly dragged the flat of her tongue across the narrow span inside her wrist. She gave herself goosebumps. Michael swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

I could, Meghan knew. I really could.

His mouth was hot - it had the heat of the tequilla but none of it’s pain. He sucked greedily at the little patch of her skin like a kiss. She felt it right down to her panties - and he knew it. Michael broke off smiling and one-twoed the shot and the fruit so quickly she barely saw. Then his arms were around her waist, his breath against her ear.

“You should go far away from me right now,” he purred.

Meghan didn’t want to. But she needed to She needed to go far away from him, from that voice. That deep, sexy…..

“Okay!” she blurted out, untangling herself. Michael looked grateful too, like she’d just saved them all from themselves. Because when she thought about Michael’s voice in her ear, the voice she was really hearing was John. With a quick squeeze of what seemed like solid marble, Meghan leg go of DZ’s arm and turned. Two steps away she brushed against another thick body.

“Meghan!” It was James. If he’d been kissing Becki now they’d parted in record time because he was grinning, bleary-eyed down at her with Becki pinned innocently to his side. “Have you met Beehhhh….?” He forgot her name and no one was surprised.

Meghan wanted to punch him, then kick him in the balls and push him into the pool. How dare he grope some stranger in front of everyone they knew, when he’d all but forbidden her to see anyone else? And why had she let him do that again? Why, when he kissed this girl, did it look nothing like she knew it did when he kissed her? This girl could have him for all Meghan cared.

“Hi,” Becki hiccupped.

“Ugh!” she said, darting away.
____

One minute, John told himself. He’d left Sam talking to a cute redhead and found the back bathroom on the ground floor of Stamkos’ house. The place was big, there would be other bathrooms. John just needed a minute to hide.

Meghan was a grown up, she did what she wanted. She wanted to preserve the peace and relaxation of their summer, for all of their sake’s. John appreciated her looking out for him. Dodging James was not something he wanted to do every day. But right now, with Neal being an ass and rubbing it in both their faces, John wondered if it shouldn’t be Neal who was dodging him.

She’s not your girl, he reminded himself. Meghan would have to take care of herself. Unless she asked for help. John really wanted her to ask. He looked at himself in the mirror and remembered when she said his scars were sexy.

The door burst open.

“Oh God, sorry….” It was Meghan, in a whirlwind.

“I guess I didn’t lock… hey,” John pulled up short. Meghan’s creamy skin was flushed, her eyes darting. They focused on him though, widening a bit, an even more beautiful green than John remembered. He caught her by the arms.

Meghan was a little dizzy. Too much liquor, sex and anger swirled through her head. If she hadn’t had those shots, she wouldn’t have touched Michael like that and felt, right down to her panties, what it would be like to touch him for real. Because she didn’t want him. Then she promptly crashed into the other thing she didn’t want. And now into the thing she did.

Pushing the door closed her her foot, Meghan slid her arms around John’s neck, her tongue into his mouth and kissed him like a bolt of lightning.

John gasped, his chest expanding, and when he exhaled drew Meghan in so close he might never let go. The door clicked shut as his butt hit the edge of the counter. Her hair was soft against his bare arms, the shape of her slotting into every available space in his body. Her fingers pushed up into his hair and John kissed her deeply. This was what almost happened in his driveway that first night, after Fall Out Boy, when they’d kissed fiercely before forcing themselves apart.

John knew Meghan was drunk. He could taste the little pang of tequilla on her lips. But for once in his life, he didn’t give a shit if everything was perfect. Instead he spun Meghan around and lifted her a few inches until she was sitting on the counter. His hands moved over her skirt, catching the hem, cheating beneath it ever so slightly. She scooted forward, bumping their laps together and he groaned right into her mouth. His hands moved a few inches north.

Meghan hooked her feet behind John’s knees and sat as straight as an arrow, the better to reach his lips. Everything about him was warm, solid, sure. John didn’t run or panic or lose his shit because someone was mean, someone was drunk, someone told him not to date the person he wanted. John did things like he meant them, and right now his hands were under her dress.

“John,” she murmured. He brushed his lips across her cheek, to her jaw, grazing the spot where her pulse galloped beneath the skin. Then lower until his mouth was strong along her neck, where it met her shoulder. Meghan arched to give him more, her breasts pressing high against his chest.

She could have stayed there all night, kissing him and feeling the breath flex through every muscle of his body. He’d never move his hands higher than she was ready for, content just to touch a part of her that no one else tonight got to see. John didn’t do things for show.

Meghan opened her mouth to apologize for dumping him, for being weak and listening to bad advice and making him feel like he wasn’t enough, when he was more than anyone she knew. Lord knows what else she might have said or asked for, if she could get a breath.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

They flew apart. John hit the wall behind him so hard the towel rack clattered. Meghan jumped to her feet. They stared at each other until the door knob twisted.

Locked.

“Fuck,” she said quietly.

“Come on Tavares, stop jerking off. I gotta take a leak!” James voice was loud as a siren.

“You’d better not be jizzing on my towels,” Steven called from farther away, laughing.

Meghan panicked. Inside the shower stall was a window, not too high, with frosted glass. John saw what she meant - he turned on the sink faucet to drown out the noise, then he opened the sliding door and she climbed in. The place was new, everything opened easily. They were on the side of the house facing away from the backyard. Meghan stuck her head out - it was the first floor, there was no one to see. She looked back and John nodded. He climbed right into the tub behind her and reached for her waist, ready to give her a boost. Just like that, Action John to save the day. Meghan put a foot on his knee, then quickly climbed back down until she was standing in front of him again.

“Dude, come on!” James hollered from the hall.

Meghan grabbed a fistful of John’s shirt and kissed him again. She caught his bottom lip, full and soft, between her teeth. Swiping her tongue quickly against his, Meghan tugged his lip until the kiss broke. Without a word, she climbed up and he helped her out the window.

John closed the pane behind her, and the shower. He flushed, closed the tap and put an annoyed look on his face. James nearly tumbled in when John opened the door.

“Good luck finding something I didn’t wipe my ass on,” John said, shouldering past.
___

Meghan stayed there, in the perfectly mowed grass on an unused side of Steven’s house, and leaned against the wall. Just inside the window was James. Somewhere in the house was John. If she ran she could catch him, and keep running to his car or a hotel or any dark place would do. But then how would she come back? To James?

She couldn’t leave the party, not yet. Meghan smoothed her dress down over John’s touch and made her way to the front of the house. From there, she went through like a normal person who used doors instead of windows.

“Hey Meghan, seen John?” Sam asked as he fished a beer from the cooler. He politely offered it to her first.

“I’m good,” she said, her stomach churning. “I, uh, thought I saw John come out here.”

Sam smiled, unaware. “He’s having fun somewhere.”

She went in the direction of the pool chairs, atop a tiled surface that must have cost a fortune to lay outside. Meghan sank into a chair and ditched her sandals, savoring the warm enamel surface beneath her feet. Around her people laughed and drank and moved but Meghan just stared at the barely rippling surface of the pool until a hand mussed her hair.

“Get far enough away?” Michael asked.

She let her eyes flutter closed. “I think so.”

“Good. That was a close one.” He rolled a dripping bottle between his palms.

“Yeah,” she admitted. Too close and way too crazy. Meghan turned to look at Michael, bulletproof, invincible MDZ, never a chink in his armor. The corner of his mouth curled.

“I do don’t rebounds anyway,” he said, leaving like he had somewhere to be.
____

John went into a guest bedroom and closed the door. He sat, then stood, then paced the five steps across a few times. His fingers curled into fists, the sense memory of Meghan’s skin slipping away. Her kiss was still there, still forceful and wild, pinballing inside his body.

Why had she done that? Was she mad at James, maybe just drunk? Or was there a part of her that felt as he did, like there was so much more to them than two dates? He gritted his teeth and flexed every muscle in his body, an exercise meant to center his thoughts and energy. Everything came down to a little point of white light: Meghan. He wanted to storm back into the party and kiss her in front of everyone. He deserved that - and she deserved him. He would take good care of her, not like her so-called best friend was doing right now. Training and Olympic camp and the season be damned, Neal would be just one more guy John wanted to beat on the ice.

“Aaaaagggghhh!” He punched a pillow. It bounced once and fell into the floor in a sigh of feathers. The futility made John scoff.

He was being crazy. Not to mention slightly drunk and cripplingly horny. Staying at the party would only make both things worse. John raked his fingers through his hair, straightened his collar and went back outside.

The first thing he saw was Meghan talking to Sam. It didn’t look like a whispered confession or sappy plea, just a conversation between arguably his two favorite people in the world right now. John knew instantly he couldn’t face this. He turned on a heel and headed for his car.

Four blocks away, a diner glowed invitingly. John had coffee and a turkey sandwich, waited half an hour and drove back.

The scene was much the same; maybe more couples and empty bottles of booze. Sam was talking to a couple of girls, but his hands in pockets meant it wasn’t anything serious. John strolled over like he’d been hanging around the whole time.

“I’m beat. You wanna head out?”

Sam bid goodnight to the girls and they headed for Stamkos, who was seated on a bench with his new dark-haired girlfriend in his lap.

“You guys taking off?” he asked. Kaylynn stood and hugged each of the guys, though Sam didn’t remember meeting her. He just liked friendly drunks. They thanked Stamkos, said goodbye to a few people and turned for the porch. John glanced back across the lawn - Meghan was nowhere to be seen. Neal was though, and still with Becki. That was the best John could hope for as he left for home.
___