number 96 :: lrh

number 96

I turned around quickly, nearly falling on the slick ice at my quick movements.
number 96 was standing before me in loose shorts and his sweaty jersey hanging from his panting body.
"Great view isn't it?" He asked and moved closer to me.
I nodded quickly, unable to form words.
"Not gonna talk?" He questioned, raising his eyebrow.
"Sorry," I squeaked out.
"You're fine, princess," He shrugged.
I blushed at the little nickname.
"Fan?" He tilted his head, waiting for a reply.
I nodded, "Yeah."
He held his hand out for me to shake, "Luke Hemmings, star hockey player."
"Alyssa," I relied shyly, compared to his confident greeting.
"Got a last name?"
"Charleston."
"Pretty," He stated nonchalantly, referring to the name, not me.
"Thanks," I giggled softly.
"Anything for you, princess," He smiled and started skating around the rink, carelessly.
I watched intently as he effortlessly moved around the ice.
He started to get sweaty again so he stopped for a moment and took off his jersey, tossing it to the barrier. My eyes never left his torso.
He skated over to me and did one quick circle around me as I stood there watching him.
After 20 minuets of me continuously staring at him, he finally stopped. He took off his skates and made his way to the bench that the benchwarmers sit on during games. He slipped on his tennis shoes.
He strode over to me and stood in front of my body, his torso was still bare, his jersey in hand.
"Like the show?" He asked.
I nodded slowly.
"Good the hear," He smirked and walked toward the locker room. I stood there motionlessly as he walked away, "Follow me."
I did as he instructed and scurried to follow him. We walked into the 'down under'. It stunk of sweat and dirty shoes in there. No one was in here but us. He walked over to his designated locker and hung up his dirty jersey on a rack.
I walked over to the jersey, I could feel his eyes burning into me from his spot on the bench. I ran my hand along the big white letters on the back of his jersey, it read 'HEMMINGS'.
And right under it was his signature number.
Number 96.
I traced it with my finger. I felt him standing behind me, watching my moves. I could fell his hand slightly swipe my hip bone from behind.
I moved away from his jersey and turned around to him.
"Hm?" I hummed.
"Nothing I was just watching," He explained quietly.
"Oh," I breathed out.
He reached behind me and pulled the jersey off its hanger. He looked at it silently before glancing up at me. He held it out for me to take but I quickly pushed his hand away, shaking my head.
"You don't want it, princess?" He asked and for a moment he actually sounded hurt.
"It's yours," I explained.
"You could have it until my next game," He offered, holding his hand out again.
"No, it's yours," I repeated my last reply.
"C'mon just take it. You're not going to hurt anything, babe," He edged me into taking it.
"But it's your lucky charm," I said.
"No, my hockey stick is my prized possession. This is just what labels me," He shrugged.
"Number 96 is you, not me," I stated.
"Are you just trying to be difficult and not take it or do you really not want it?" He asked.
"I just don't think it's right for me to take it," I explained softly.
"Princess, its not that big of a deal," he sighed.
"Oh well," I shrugged.
"Princess," He practically begged.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked curiously.
"It fits you," He said and examined my face.
"Im far from a princess," I laughed dryly.
"I think you're princess material," His hand brushed mine.
"Yeah right," I rolled my eyes sarcastically.
"Im serious," He stated.
"I know you are," I said.
"Please just take the jersey," He pleaded again.
"Fine," I sighed in defeat and grabbed it from him.
He smiled brightly, "Thank you princess." He kissed my forehead.
I slipped the old smelly jersey on over my clothes. He dug through his bag until he found a small bottle of cologne. He stepped up to me, "This might smell a little better."
I closed my eyes and stretched my arms out so he could spritz me with it. It smelled like him, obviously, but it also smelled like something else that I couldn't quite make out.
"Defiantly smells better," I commented.
He nodded with pleasure and tossed the bottle back into the bag.
He picked up his bag and we both walked out of the locker room, out the back door and outside to the reserved parking lot where only one shiny black car was parked.
He pulled his keys out and the beeping noise sounded across the empty lot as he unlocked it.
"What about my car?" I asked.
"We can come back for it later, princess," He said and opened my car door for me.
I sat down, the door shut and he ran over to the drivers side.
"We can go to the party tonight, as dates," He offered.
Tonight was a big party where everybody got hammered in more ways than one. They danced all night and drank like no tomorrow.
"Okay," I agreed.
"Ok but don't get too smashed," He chuckled softly.
"No promises dude," I warned, playfully.
"I never asked for one," He stated and drove off.
We talked about each other during to car ride. I stared out the window, amazed at the rich ass neighborhood that we were currently driving through. There was a house that I swore was the actual Fresh Prince of Bel-Air house; although I knew it wasn't.
"This place is like Heaven," I gaped.
"It's only just started."