Tip Fourteen; Don't forget to praise your partner. Tell them how good it feels, how they feel so good inside you, you love their hands on you, touching you etc.

The icy air of the arena bites at my cheeks as I watch Leon and Asher glide across the rink. The game is fierce, the crowd a living entity roaring with every play. Suddenly, Asher gets checked hard against the plexiglass right in front of us.

Ice flicks up into the air as the boys skate around, the puck sliding between them.

I watch, riveted on the game, seeing my brother with the puck, skating around the outside of the opposing team when suddenly a body is being slammed into the plexiglass right in front of us. I wince, blinking at the sudden violence, and look for the persons jersey number, eyes widening when I see Asher's number twelve staring back at me.

"What the heck!" Charlie exclaims, "he just shoved Asher into the glass, he didn't have the puck!" Her eyes are wide with outrage and I mirror it, watching as Asher pushes off the glass and turns towards the person who shoved him, pushing him back before everything is stopped by the other team and referees.

The fight is cut off so quickly that the crowd erupts in boos. I wince, eyes taking in the blood I can see smeared on the plexiglass.

As the game wraps up with a narrow win, the energy in the stands shifts from tense to celebratory. But my focus drifts from the blood still staining the plexiglass to the retreating backs of the boys, fishing Asher beside Leon.

Charlotte stands, wiping her hands on her jeans to warm them up, before checking them time.

"Want to come back to mine? Quiet night in watching teen wolf?"

Charlotte grins, "Wish I could, I'm on the close at work." She says with a shrug.

"Have fun." I say, and Charlotte rolls her eyes.

"Like I could, I'm stuck with Randy tonight and he just stares at me and doesn't speak."

"He has a crush." I murmur, grinning at my best-friend.

"Well maybe I'd like him back if he didn't just stare at me while I cleaned the popcorn machine or if he didn't just pop up randomly when I'm in the theatre cleaning under the seats."

I laugh and wave goodbye as she leaves, pulling my phone from my pocket as it vibrates with a message.

'Favour?'

I roll my eyes at my brother message but before I have the chance to reply it vibrates again.

'Can I get a lift home, and some of the guys too? I know you parked down the street and I need to get home quick. Party.'

'Be at my car in five or I'm leaving you behind.'

'Knew I could count on you.'

I roll my eyes at his message and start walking to my car, kind of hoping he misses the five minute mark.

Except when I reach my car, there is Leon is laughing with Justin and Asher, leaning against the hood of my car like they have no care in the world.

"Let's go, Ives, we gotta beat the rest of the team, move the furniture, make sure all the breakables are gone."

"Honestly I don't know why you move anything back when you throw these things nearly every week."

Leon rolls his eyes and waves a hand to the car, so I unlock it, walking around the side to enter, ignoring the eyes I can feel tracking down my spine.

I start the car and check my mirrors, catching Asher's eyes in the rear view mirror, his attention causing me to pause for a second, my cheeks warming from the perusal of his eyes across the features of my face until Justin clears his throat.

I blink and pull away from the curb.

Leon and Justin dive into a conversation about the game's highlights, but I can't help the occasional glance back at Asher, who seems more interested in maintaining eye contact than joining in. His eyes crinkling in the reflection from the smirk I can see pulling at his lips.

"You gonna attend the party tonight, Ivy?" Justin asks and I shake my head.

"No way, I have a book calling my name."

I see Leon shaking his head from the corner of my eye. "What about Charlie, she coming?"

I look towards Leon and shake my head again. "She's working."

"Bummer, she could've made you have a bit of fun." Justin quips from the back and I look in the mirror to see Asher shove an elbow into his side.

The car smells like soap and aftershave from the boys fresh showers, and the scent only makes me want to have my own shower and crawl into bed.

"I'll grab some dinner then skedaddle," I offer, already planning my retreat.

Leon laughs, a deep, hearty sound. "One of these days, you're going to stay for a party, Ivy."

"No thanks," I smile back.

"You sure Charlotte can't come? Maybe she'll drag you out of your room," Leon teases as we unload from the car.

Justin snorts, "why do you want her here so bad?"

"Fuck off, Justin."

Asher's hand brushes mine as we walk up the drive, Leon and Justin too busy talking to notice the brief touch.

Once inside, I head straight for the kitchen to start on dinner while the boys set up for the party. The doorbell rings incessantly as teammates arrive, bringing with them boxes of pizza and... yes, beer.

Retreating to my room for some peace, I take a long, hot shower, trying to drown out the noise of the gathering outside my door.

When I step out of the ensuite, towel drying my hair, I freeze. Asher is lounging on my bed, looking right at home.

"You're making a habit of this," I say, trying to sound annoyed but probably failing.

He shrugs, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I like it better here than my room." He's staring at me intensely, his knees spread wide as he sits on the end of the bed.

I drop my hand with the towel, "they'll notice you missing soon."

"No they won't, alcohol and everyone too busy in their own heads to see three feet in front of them? They won't know for ages."

"So what, you're just going to stay here all night?"

He only smiles and beckons me closer until I'm standing between his spread legs.

His hands land on my hips, pulling me closer. Even with him sitting on my bed and me standing at full height we're almost the same height, his lips only an inch or two lower than mine.

"What are you doing here, Ash?"

"Are you going on a date with the surfer guy from the library?" He doesn't look at me as he says the words.

"Why?"

He shrugs, "thought you wanted to learn, if you've found a new teacher-"

"I haven't." I cut him off. "I'm not going on a date with him."

Asher's hands settle on my hips and he rubs slightly, fingers spread as he nods back in acknowledgment.

"Why are you in here?" I probe, watching his face.

"I like your company more than half the team out there."

I narrow my eyes and he tilts his head.

"I thought we were becoming friends?"

I blink, nodding. Friends.

"We are."

"And I want to hang out with my friend." He rolls his neck side to side, wincing slightly. "Rough game," he murmurs when he sees the concern on my face.

"Need a massage?" I ask before I can think better of it.

"You offering?" he says, his eyes lighting up.

It takes me a second to reply and then I'm nodding and Asher is moving back on my bed, reaching behind his back to pull his shirt over his head.

He balls it up and throws it at me and I catch it, holding the warm cotton in my hand.

"You coming?" He murmurs, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.  Leaning back on my bed, with his jeans unbuttoned and fly unzipped, the peak of red boxers next to the denim, abs exposed and tense, his head tilted at me like he's waiting for me to act.

And he is.

I move for the door, flicking the lock before turning to him. "Turn over."

Asher smiles but does as I asked, flipping over on my bed until his back is to me.

My heart pounds in my chest as I move closer, sitting behind him on the bed.

My hands wander over the knots in his shoulders, feeling the tension under my fingers. Asher sighs contentedly, and I can't help but feel drawn into this quiet intimacy, worlds away from the chaos of the party outside my door.

My fingers sink into his skin, massaging the tense muscles while Asher groans at every skim of my fingers and weave of my palms.

"You're really good at this," Asher murmurs, his voice low and relaxed.

"Thanks," I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me at his praise. "Hockey players always need a good massage therapist on hand, right?"

He chuckles softly, then falls silent for a moment. "Yeah, especially after a game like today's. You can be my masseuse anytime, Ivy."

The conversation lulls as I focus on easing the stiffness from his muscles, moving my hands along his back with a care that feels both familiar and wrong and thrilling all at once. It's a quiet intimacy.

Eventually, Asher turns to look at me, his expression serious. "Ivy, I—"

He stops, eyes jumping between mine like he searching for something.

"Yeah?" I whisper.

He moves around on the bed until he's facing me fully.

"I want to try something." He says quietly, "do you trust me?"
I nod, not even thinking before I reply.

"Lean back on your pillows." My eyes move to Asher's, finding his level on mine, earnest and pleading with me to trust him.

I do, watching as he disappears into my closet and comes back out with a scarf, looking way too delectable walking towards me with his jeans sitting low on his hips and the peak of his boxers showing. 

He walks to my bedside, holding out the scarf between his hands. "Close your eyes," he whispers, his voice a soft command in the dimly lit room. I hesitate for a moment, then obey, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my stomach as the world around me fades into darkness.

There's a rustle of fabric, and then the cool touch of something brushes against my skin, wrapping around my head to secure my vision in complete darkness.

"Do you trust me?" He asks again.

I nod. Feeling weak and strong all at once.

"Give me your hand."