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The Games We Play

Eight

Cold water spilled over James' head, running down his face and body. With his eyes closed, one hand pressed against the tiles in front of him, he let the water spread over him, wishing it would take the pain in his head and the ache in his muscles down the drain with it. It'd been ten minutes that he'd been standing under the shower, but felt no relief whatsoever.

He tilted his head back, letting the water wash over his face. Last night had been a long one. One of the last things he remembered was Geno getting him into his hotel bed. He thought maybe Dupuis had been there, and Sid...and they were arguing...maybe? It was fuzzy.

With a heavy sigh, James turned off the shower and submitted to feeling like shit the rest of the day. Cold shower or not, his body wasn't going to let him off that easy. He grabbed a nearby towel and massaged it through his hair and over his face. When he met his own reflection in the mirror, the sight wasn't much better: five days of no shaving left a shadow along his jawline and around his mouth, accompanied by heavy circles under his eyes.

He groaned.

He emerged from the bathroom with the towel around his waist only to find Matt Niskanen already dressed. He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, putting his shoes on.

"When Nealer goes hard, he goes hard!"

James let out a small laugh. "Maybe a little too hard."

"How ya feeling?"

"Never better!" He forced a sarcastic smile.

"You sure?" Matt asked. "Because you were feeling pretty good last night...It was hilarious."

James rummaged through his suitcase for deodorant. "I can't even remember most of what the hell happened. Who got me back here? Geno?"

"With the help of a few others, yeah. Sid was basically the one who moved you outta there when you started sucking face with that one chick."

James wheeled around. "I what?"

Matt's face was blank. "You don't remember?"

"Noooooo" He walked over to the bed, sitting down slowly. "Nisky..."

Matt sat back down on the opposite bed. "Shit, you must have been hammered....I can't believe you don't remember."

James ran a hand over his head, grabbing his hair. "Please don't tell me I fucked up last night...." A million fears erupted inside his chest, but when he met eyes with Matt, he knew his teammate wasn't lying.

"You were in full raging mode, Neal. There wasn't much we could do to stop you."

"You could've fucking done something!" His anger was beginning to rise. "Who was the girl?"

Matt shrugged. "I don't know...Her and her friends hung around for a while. The one in the blue mini skirt was the one you hooked up with."

James stared at the floor. He tried to dig back through his hurting brain to remember what went on. Vaguely, he recalled a bunch of hot chicks coming back to their area, but he couldn't remember a blue mini skirt or anything close to it.

"Shit."

Across from him, Matt sat silently. "I don't know what to tell you. You were all over her."

James held a hand up. "Stop. Just....stop. No more." His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes and tried to think. "Did I call Ali?"

"I don't think so" Matt replied. "Sid took your phone so you wouldn't do anything stupid."

"What a martyr." He sighed. "Guess I better go retrieve it." With that, he stood up and headed for the door.

"You retrieving it like dressed like that?" Matt laughed.

"Who the fuck cares." James slammed the hotel door behind him.

* * *

Dupuis opened the door. "Well, well..."

"Save it, Duper. Where's Sid?"

"He already went to meet with Coach." Pascal took a moment to scan James up and down. "You wearing that on the plane? Sexy."

"Did he leave my phone?" he asked, not in the mood to joke.

"It's over on the table." Pascal nodded towards the interior of the room.

James grabbed his cell and immediately went to the Recent Call list. To his worst nightmare, he saw an outgoing call to Ali made at 2:36 am.

Dupuis watched as his friend's face fell. Being older by almost a decade, he waited calmly and watched as James wrestled with several emotions, always staring at his phone.

"Who called her" James asked flatly.

"Sid."

"Did I talk to her." Another flat question.

"No."

"What did Sid say."

Pascal shook his head. "No idea, I was busy helping you stay upright."

"Jesus christ." James didn't ask anymore questions, he just dialed Ali's number. He stared at Dupuis, who stared back calmly. Five rings. Six rings.

Hey, its Ali! Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

James hung up and dialed again. He got her voicemail, so he hung up and dialed again.

"Just wait until we're back in town" Dupuis said, but James glared at him. Still no answer, and he didn't leave a message.

He pressed End, and met Dupuis' eyes.

"What the hell is my problem." It was a simple question, but James never had the answer.

Dupuis just looked at him. "You don't know a good thing when you see it."

* * *

Ali sat at a Starbucks, glumly tracing the rim of her coffee cup with her finger. Outside, it was a windy, soggy day across Pittsburgh. Ironically, the dismal conditions matched her dismal mood. On the floor next to her chair, she could hear her phone vibrating from inside her purse. She took a drink of her coffee, ignoring the call for the third time.

It's funny how they say 'each day is a new day', but when you wake up, your problems are still there. Ali laughed to herself when she thought of the phrase, taking another drink of her coffee.

Her phone began to vibrate again.

She wondered what he would say later that night after she got home from work. Would he begin the conversation, or would she? Did he even remember what happened? Sid had mentioned it was 'sloppy'....not that that made her feel better. Even if James didn't know what he was doing, the boy liked to drink. The team deserved to celebrate after wins. It wasn't rational for her to assume anything otherwise.

Resting her head in her hand, she looked out the window pane next to her. Everything looked gray under the stifling cloud deck. Sporadic wind gusts sent colorful leaves shuffling and swirling around the parking lot and sidewalk.

Another series of vibrations began.

She considered the fact that he'd been drunk...but how drunk was he? Sid never really let her in on much during their phone call. Part of her didn't want the rest of the story, anyway.

The vibrations ended.

Funny part was, she didn't really feel mad. Jealous? Hell yes. But why? She knew why. He was James fucking Neal, number 18 for the Pittsburgh Penguins.

A single vibration was heard from within her purse, signifying a voicemail.

Whatever happened tonight when she got home, she swore she wouldn't cry. No tears. It wasn't that big of a deal, and she wasn't about to be that kind of girlfriend.

Fishing her phone out of her purse, she typed in the code and listened to the voicemail.

Babe, its me. So….word on the street is I was acted like an ass last night...

His phrasing made Ali smile ever-so-slightly.

You probably don't want to talk to me. I get that. Be as upset as you want....

There was a pause, and she heard James sigh.

I love you. And honestly...I don't deserve you.

Another pause.

See you tonight.

The message ended, and Ali blinked back tears.

* * *

James paced in his living room. Outside, wind knocked at the windows, but it was the only sound to be heard. He hadn’t heard from Ali all day, and he was starting to get worried. On the flight back to Pittsburgh, Sid and Geno had filled him in on what happened the previous night, and Sid opened up enough to admit he told Ali what happened with him and the girl. The knowledge of this had scared him all day.

He folded his arms over his chest and paced some more. Ali was supposed leave around 10:30 tonight, but he knew that she sometimes didn’t get out of there right on time.

Finally, he heard the sound of the garage door opening, then the engine of an SUV. His heart pounded in his chest, hoping against anything he wasn’t about to walk into a conversation that would ruin their relationship. He had so much he wanted to do with her, share with her, do for her…he didn’t want to fuck this up.

The door leading from the garage into the kitchen opened and Ali came in, looking uneasy. She hadn’t changed from her work clothes into comfier clothes like she normally did, so her fitted black blazer and pencil skirt drew his eyes to her body. One foot at a time, she took her heels off, her brown eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Ali.”

It took a second before she looked at him. He was dressed in a white v-neck t-shirt which hugged the lines of his pecs beneath the cotton, sleeves tight against his biceps. Black Pittsburgh Penguins sweatpants covered him below the waist, relaxed enough to show a hint of his torso. Overgrown stubble covered his strong jaw and surrounded his mouth, but it was the look in his eyes that concerned her.

“Did you get my voicemail?” he began.

She nodded.

“I meant every word.” James was actually afraid. He hoped it wasn’t obvious in his voice. “I’m really sorry. For everything.”

Ali crossed her arms over her chest as if she was hugging herself. She remained quiet, but now leaned against the kitchen counter as if to say ‘go on’.

James took a step closer. For some reason, he seemed to notice how much taller he was compared to her…or maybe she seemed shrunken as she waited for his explanation.

“Last night…I went way too hard. I realize that now. I really fucking wish I hadn’t.” He took another step forward. “Sid told me he called you.”

There it was. Subtly, her bottom lip quivered, but she immediately bit it to prevent it from showing…but he had seen it.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am…that I am such a complete dick. You don’t deserve the way I acted last night…Especially after I told you it wouldn’t be that way.”

Ali averted her eyes now, and James took another step forward. He stood only inches from her, but felt as though he still had a brick wall to bust through. He caught the faint scent of her perfume, and it made doing this hurt all the more. This was the girl he wanted….no one else.

“I know being wasted isn’t an excuse, but I’m telling you, and I mean this, Allison…”

The sound of her full name made her look up at him again.

“…you are the only girl for me. Got that?” James closed the remaining distance between them, and he watched as heavy tears filled Ali’s eyes.

“I love you, James” she said, her voice soft. One tear ran down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “Why do youdo this?”

The question cut him like a knife…a knife he was entirely too friendly with. He shook his head, looking down at the floor in guilt.

“I don’t know a good thing when I have it.” He met her gaze, apology written all over his face and in the smile that he gave her. “I’m sorry, Ali.”

The seconds that passed scared the hell out of him, but after a moment, Ali fell into his arms. He closed his eyes as they hugged, one hand cupping her head as it pressed tightly against his chest.

* * *

Notes

First Pens game of the season on my tv as I post this. :-)

Comments

@Lolo2020


Thank you so much! Amazing people still read it and enjoy it so much. That was my goal :)

Winter22 Winter22
2/6/17

I absolutely adore this story! I've read it a few times and it gets better each time!

Lolo2020 Lolo2020
12/12/16

Love love loved this :) great work!!

anna anna
9/17/14

Just started reading. Can I say that they do not have to do anything but acknowledge people if even that when they are in a club. If girls are approaching them they can say no, they can just chose to ignore them. So James saying there was a s slip up is crap. He is allowed to be friends and talk to other girls and all but having someone literally just hang off of him. No

6-28-14 ** A NOTE TO MY READERS **

As a result of James getting traded, I've found myself at a loss for words; a loss I'm not sure I'll be quick to recover from. The trade was a hard hit, and it will take some time for me to get over the initial hurt.

I wanted to post a message to at least tell all of you who have followed my stories up to this point that after this, I'm not sure how long it's going to be before I post a new story. James will forever be a Penguin to me, and likely to many of you as well. I'm just not sure how to go forward right now. As a result - I can't promise I'll be back, but I hope to be. I really do.

Let's let the dust settle and the hurt fade...and maybe we'll find one other again on this wonderful site.

Thank you all again for your support...It really has made writing so much fun for me, and I don't want to go forward with another story until it's fun again. Right now - that doesn't seem plausible.

I'll leave it open for any of you to message me anytime, if you'd like. I will occasionally check in just to see how everyone's doing. :-)

Regards,
Winter

Winter22 Winter22
6/28/14