The Blackhawks hadn't won a Cup since 1961, the second longest drought in NHL history. It felt good. I might have scored the goal, but I couldn't take credit for it all by myself. It was Remy who kept it in control, judging the right time to pass to Leo. It was Leo who waited until I found an opening. I might have been the one that scored, but it was the Chicago Blackhawks who won—together.
Since playing in the NHL, I'd never made a show of a goal because I didn't score that much. I wasn't out there to score. But hey, when you were the one that won the game with the winning goal in overtime, a strip tease was warranted in my mind. I didn't give a strip tease, but fuck if I wasn't excited. I was shouting and jumping and pumping my fists, and then my team was all over me. I couldn't see anything besides my boys piling on me, all with the same exaggerated enthusiasm.
From the time you were a little boy, red faced, frozen hands, and a runny nose, you dreamed of hoisting that Cup, but you never thought that it would actually be you someday. The thing was, I knew it would be me someday.
Every team, every coach, and every player started out the season with the same goal in their head. They wanted that Stanley Cup, and they literally had no other interest in mind.
Those same coaches and players, as the season progressed and they're suddenly looking at a 22-36 ratio, they never lost sight of what it meant to hoist that Cup.
So in September, November, December, and March, when you've battled and defeated the odds, you finally saw that you worked toward that one goal together.
Just like anything in life, love, happiness, family, all of it...you worked toward one goal and then it was within reach.
As I looked at Ami, the meaning behind what we were and what we overcame held just as much, if not more, meaning now.
Goal – A goal is scored when the puck crosses completely over the goal line within the goal frame.
After winning a Stanley Cup and hoisting that Cup over your head, you did one thing: you celebrated. In more ways than one.
Guess how I celebrated?
"Make love to me," she said, eyes on mine, the high of the victory radiating through both of us.
"Do you know what it is you're asking for?" My hands moved hers over her head against the pillow, my head dipped forward to tease the skin of her neck.
"I'm asking for you, Evan."
My fingers shook as they went for my shirt. It was different this time, I could feel it. We weren't going to stop, not after tonight and the win.
When her hands went to the nightstand and she pulled out a condom, I smiled, the room spinning a little less. "You sure?"
"Yes, are you?" she asked, holding me in place. "You're swaying again."
I touched my finger to my nose. "Perfectly fine."
Ami laughed and quickly got the wrapper open. As she touched me, placing the condom on, I had to close my eyes, my hand grazed the side of her bare breast and then moved to her face.
When she got it on and lay back against the bed, I fell forward, supporting my weight with my arms. "I can't believe we won the Stanley Cup," I said, the win still heavy on my mind.
"Okay, dude, we're about to have sex." Her hands lifted mine back to her breasts. "Let's concentrate on that."
"Oh, I am..." I pushed my erection into her hips, letting her know I was all for that. "It's just been an unreal night…and now here you are..." My lips moved from her neck to her ear, over her jaw, and then found her lips. I whispered against them, pulling her down on top of me, "...loving me, wanting me despite my drunk ass."
"You're not that drunk, remember?" Her finger moved to tap the tip of my nose.
I was nervous, but I wasn't going to show it, and honestly a little terrified. I was thankful for the alcohol. I could only imagine what I would have been like. But there was also an energy I had never felt before. Not even in a game. Not even in a Stanley Cup win.
I blinked down at her, struggling to keep my composure.
All joking and teasing aside, there was still something incredibly intimate happening. I didn't necessarily want our first time to happen when I was drunk, but like I said, I wasn't that drunk. I was still very much aware of what was about to happen between us. For a moment, I froze.
Ami gave me these looks. She always had. They were just looks, but then they weren't because if I really looked behind the starry blue, it told me so much more than her words ever could. This look, the one she was giving me right now, told me that she waited for me. She was about to give me a piece of herself she'd never given to another. It didn't matter that someone stole her virginity, like it was a fucking car stereo they jacked. Her virginity was something she was giving, and it wouldn't be lost until she gave it. This look, that one, it was telling me it was mine to take.
My hands moved down her body to her hips, my face lowering again, finding her lips as I situated myself at her entrance. That was when I noticed her shaking. "You're trembling. Are you nervous?"
"A little," she murmured, unable to hide the fear in her eyes.