# CHAPTER 21: When a Dry Hump Becomes the Talk of the Locker Room
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? I hope you're ready for another deep dive into the deliciously messy, heart-thumping world of "Just for the Plot." Today, we’re unraveling CHAPTER 21—a chapter that opens with a bombshell confession, a splash of water, and a whole lot of testosterone-fueled chaos. So grab your favorite snack (maybe a cupcake, if you’re bold), settle in, and let’s walk through every juicy moment together.
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Bennett barely has time to plant himself in the seat next to Graydon and OC before he drops the kind of statement that shatters the calm of any ordinary morning. "OH MY FUCKING GOD, she dry-humped my dick last night," he announces, like a man who has just witnessed a miracle and needs witnesses.
OC, mid-sip of his water, reacts the only way his brain can process such news: he rips the bottle away and performs a spectacular spit take, showering Graydon’s arm in a fine mist of water. Graydon’s eyes blaze with murderous intent. "What the actual fuck," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
But OC is too caught up in the revelation to register his impending doom. He wipes his chin, completely oblivious, and fires off the critical question: "Who did? Bower? The sister's friend? Please, for the love of fuck, let it be Bower."
Bennett nods, a smug grin spreading across his face. "It was Bower."
Graydon, still dripping with OC’s disrespect, grabs the guy by the collar and yanks him nose-to-nose. "Get me a towel, *now*." OC stammers, tries to protest, but one more guttural "Now" sends him scrambling toward the bathroom. As he retreats, he holds up a finger, desperate not to miss a single word. "One second. Don't start without me. I want to hear everything."
Graydon turns to Bennett, a wicked glint in his eye. "Tell me everything while he’s gone." Bennett laughs, calling it brutal, but Graydon doesn't care. "The fuck sprayed me with water. He deserves to miss out." Clearly, Graydon is on a whole other level of grumpy today.
They're supposed to be signing zoo pictures for an off-site fundraiser. Gretchen is running late—forgot the Sharpies—so there's a rare pocket of downtime. And what do athletes do with downtime? They gossip like teenagers at a sleepover.
OC comes sprinting back, towels held aloft triumphantly, and plops down, dabbing at Graydon’s arm. Graydon snatches the towels like a dragon guarding treasure. "Don’t fucking touch me." OC recoils, backing his chair away. "Jesus fuck, it was just water." "That was in your goddamn mouth." "For less than a second. Talk about sensitive." OC thumbs toward Graydon, rolling his eyes.
Bennett warns him: "I’d be careful, dude." OC glances at Graydon, and his throat visibly bobs. For a guy who’s an absolute menace on the ice, a brutal hockey beast, OC turns into putty around Graydon. Somethings just are what they are.
"Get on with it," OC says, eager to get back to the real story. "Gretchen will be back any minute, and she won’t let us talk about it. All business, that one."
And so Bennett lets it all spill out. The dinner party where they had to pretend to be a couple. The thrill of touching her. Her sitting on his lap. "Fuck, it was amazing." Then the drive home, the cupcakes she bought as a thank-you—actual cupcakes, for the record, which he has to clarify because OC’s mind lives in the gutter. "Clearly it was actual cupcakes, you nitwit," Graydon says, ever the enforcer of logic.
The playful wrestling over the last bite. The tumble to the floor. Her on top. And then... the feeling of her ass on his lap, his body betraying him with a hard-on. "Ahhh, to get hard. What's that like?" OC sighs wistfully, staring at the ceiling like a lovesick poet who’s lost his muse.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Graydon asks. "Grace broke my dick, that's what's wrong with me," OC laments. "But this isn't about me." He waves Bennett on.
So Bennett continues. She started moving. He guided her hips with his hands. She went faster, and faster, until—well, you know. OC finishes the sentence for him: "You came in your pants." "Christ," Graydon mutters, sinking deeper into his chair. Bennett confirms it, unable to keep the embarrassment from his voice.
Then comes the real question, the one that matters: "Please tell me she came as well," OC says, almost in a panic. Even Graydon—surprisingly—leans in. "Yeah, solid question." OC offers a fist bump; Graydon pushes his hand down. "Of course she came. She was the one who got off first," Bennett says, a hint of pride sneaking through.
"Hot." OC nods approvingly. "Also, dry-humping, ridiculously hot. Do you and Maple do that?" he asks Graydon, who responds with the verbal equivalent of a glacier: "Ask about my girlfriend’s sex life one more time, see where it gets you." OC winces, retreats, and pivots back to Bennett. "So what does this mean? Are you two an item now? Have all your fantasies come true? Do you think you’re going to propose soon?"
But Bennett’s face falls. "That's the thing. After it happened, I just got up and left."
Silence. OC’s mouth drops open. Even Graydon’s expression shifts into something like disappointment. "Why the fuck would you leave?" OC demands. "Dude, that was your *in*. After you dry-hump, you're supposed to take your clothes off and then do the real thing, not fucking leave." The logic is sound, in a crude sort of way.
Bennett tries to explain. "I was giving her space." He knows it sounds weak. But things with Bower are different. *Nothing* about it is normal. She’s fragile, panicking, a bird ready to take flight at any sudden movement. He’s been deliberate, measured, step by step.
"Space to go spend time with Gator?" OC scoffs. "Who the hell is Gator?" Bennett asks, genuinely confused. "Fuck, what's his name?" OC fumbles. "Cougar," Graydon supplies, ever helpful. "Right." OC pats Graydon’s shoulder, a gesture he immediately regrets. "I knew his name was some sort of animal. Anyway, are you going to push her toward Cougar?"
Bennett nearly chokes. "No, why the hell would I do that?" "I don’t know. Why the hell would you get her off and then just leave? You seem to be making stupid decisions." Even Graydon chimes in: "He's right on that." And for a brief moment, OC basks in the forbidden sunshine of Graydon's agreement, until Graydon quickly shuts it down with a warning.
Bennett takes a breath, refocusing the conversation. This isn’t some dumb hookup strategy. He’s playing the long game. "I'm taking this slow and being deliberate about how I handle this. I know she’s freaking out right now and I’m trying to keep her calm. I think pushing her any further than what we did last night wouldn't have been good. I already saw the panic in her eyes after all was said and done. So I'm taking this one step at a time. I texted her this morning and asked her to hang out with me tomorrow."
"And what did she say?" OC asks, breathless. "She said yes." "Well, then... that's fucking great, right?" OC bounces forward, but Bennett remains measured. "I think so. Like I said, I have to take it step by step. Keep letting her know I'm interested, and then when the time is right—strike."
Graydon nods slowly, rubbing his jaw. "Seems like a good plan." Bennett feels something warm bloom in his chest—Graydon’s approval means something. "Really?" "Yeah. I could see this working out for you."
OC, of course, can’t resist: "And when it does"—he swirls his finger at Bennett and Graydon—"the Gladdy Daddies will be groomsmen." "I seriously hate you," Graydon groans, the sound carrying all the weariness of a man who has heard that joke a thousand times.
"No, you don't. You love me." Just as OC delivers his punchline, Gretchen strides in, Sharpies in hand. "He doesn't," she says flatly, placing markers in front of each of them. "It's hard to find someone who actually likes you."
"Jesus Christ, woman," OC sputters, deeply offended. "You weren't part of the conversation." "Don't need to be a part of it to know the facts." She plops a stack of photos in front of them. "Now get signing." And just like that, the moment passes, the teasing replaced by work—yet the warmth of it lingers.
Later, the real action happens through text messages. Bennett reaches out with a simple request: *Think you can record a video with me tomorrow for Gretchen?* Bower’s reply is quick: *Yeah, I can.* But the conversation unfolds with layers. She’s hesitant, wondering if Gretchen even wants her. Bennett dips his toe in the water: *What if I want you in it?* Bower deflects, clever and guarded: *Sometimes we don't always get what we want, Bennett.*
But Bennett is relentless, in the best way. He sends her cupcakes—a full half dozen, because he felt bad about wrestling for hers. She messages back with a winking accusation: there’s a cupcake thief in the building, and she’ll safeguard them with her life. The banter is soft, effortless, a lifeline stretching between them.
Then the mood shifts. Bower admits she’s eating her feelings—four cupcakes, in fact. The alarm bells go off in Bennett’s head. He offers to come over. She refuses. *Don't come over here, okay?* The words are firm, yet brittle. He pushes, gently: *Would you tell me if I could help?* She says she would. And he has to live with that—because he promised to trust her, even when everything in him screams to charge through the door and wrap her in his arms.
The conversation ends with *Sweet dreams*. But neither of them will sleep easy. There’s a storm curling on the horizon, one they can both feel but can’t yet name.
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Alright, my friends, let’s talk about this chapter. We got the full spectrum here: locker-room comedy, raw male friendship, that electric will-they-won’t-they tension, and a beautiful undercurrent of vulnerability. Bennett’s restraint is *chef’s kiss*—he’s showing emotional maturity, even when his hormones are screaming otherwise. And Bower? That little confession about eating her feelings breaks my heart. She’s hurting, but she’s still peeking through the curtains, letting him in just an inch. The dry-hump scene retelling had me cackling, but the text exchanges had me gripping my chest. It’s the perfect blend of playful and tender.
For this chapter, I’m giving it a solid 4.8 out of 5 stars. It loses just a tiny fraction because I desperately want more time with Bower’s actual POV—I need to know what’s going on inside that beautiful, guarded head of hers.
As for the next chapter—oh, you know it’s coming. Bennett asked her to hang out tomorrow, and she said yes. But there’s unresolved tension. That "eating her feelings" episode? Not over. I predict we’ll see Bower and Bennett meeting up, with Bennett finally breaking through her walls—or hitting a sudden wall of resistance that sends him spiraling. And what about Cougar lurking in the background? Something tells me that’s not a closed chapter. I foresee an emotional confrontation, a few heart-fluttering moments, and maybe, just maybe, a kiss that changes everything.
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