10. Karma
CHAPTER 10
KARMA
JAGGER
S ix am comes way too fucking soon. Especially if you spent all night tossing and turning.
My brain wouldn’t shut down and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Bay.
The look in her eyes when she saw me coming out of the locker room with Candace and Bianca and then later at the party with Candace on my arm.
I almost ran after her twice. To beg for her forgiveness for that stupid text and to swear that nothing happened between me and her Zeta sisters.
But what’s the point of behaving like a grade A asshole and having a decoy date, if then I blew my cover the second I saw her?
The situation hasn’t changed.
Topher was watching me all evening with an arrogant smirk on his face. I have no doubt that he would follow through with his threat if I ignored his demand to stay away from Bay.
The only thing that makes me feel slightly better is that Bay looked more pissed than sad.
I’d take anger over heartbreak any day. Take it from me. There has been a dull pain in my chest all night. If I didn’t know that I’m healthy and in top shape, I would be scared that my heart was going to explode or something.
The truth is that heartbreak can cause physical pain, I got so worried that I fucking googled it.
It’s better that she hates me rather than pining for me. I’m going to do all the pining, it’s what I deserve.
For being an asshole and disrespecting her and for convincing myself that Bay and I were just friends with benefits.
I lied to myself that Bay and I barely knew each other, that there’s no way I could fall for her so quickly and completely.
The truth? I’m a fucking idiot. What do I know about love when I’ve never been in love before Bay Woods?
I googled that too by the way.
According to several sources on the internet, if someone is your first thought in the morning and your last thought at night, if you want to be with them all the time, chances are you’re in love.
If they’re the first person you want to share your happy or sad news, if your pulse quickens just hearing their voice, you’re a goner.
All it took to fall for Bay was one kiss. I’ve kissed dozens of girls before her and never spared them a second thought once the hookup was over.
Bay has gotten under my skin, she’s invaded my head, my heart. Even my cock refused to raise to the occasion yesterday in the locker room.
Like with my heart, I’ve never had a problem getting hard before. Especially with two puck bunnies ready to do anything to help the team maintain our lucky streak. But yesterday? Nada.
The only time my cock gave signs of life was when Bay turned up to the locker room looking like a wet dream come true.
I crave her soft lips, her pretty smile, her tight pussy. But most of all, I crave the intimacy between us.
Fuck.
Never mind craving a pussy, I’m turning into one.
I’m in the worst possible mood when I get to the arena. I don my practice uniform and my skates without looking anyone in the eye.
Thankfully I’m not the only one who wants to be left alone. After last night’s loss and the small gathering at the Gamma house that turned into a rager, most of my teammates are either still pissed off or too hungover to try to have a conversation.
The truth is that we’re all fearing what awaits us on the ice. After last year’s bag skating, we know Coach Harrison can be a sadistic motherfucker.
At least last year we were winning even though we weren’t scoring high when it came to team spirit.
“Good morning ladies,” Coach Harrison’s voice fills the cold air of the arena as we file on the ice in silence. “I hope you had a good night sleep and you’re fresh as motherfucking daises, because you’re going to need all your energy this morning.”
There are a few groans among my teammates, Tucker rubs his temples, looking inside his helmet as if he wanted to puke inside it.
Coach smiles as he looks at us, of course the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows better than me that no one had an early night last night. The post games parties at the Gamma house are notorious on campus and I’m sure he’s well aware of the kind of shenanigans that go on.
Our previous coach used to give us a day off after a game, but Coach Harrison believes in keeping us all in line twenty-four seven.
Usually post games practices consists of a light workout and time with the physio team but the deranged smile on Coach’s face tells me that there isn’t going to be anything “light” about today’s practice.
The good news is that I don’t see the trash cans he used last year to split the ice into lanes for bag skating.
My relief is short lived though.
“Last night this team gave the worst performance I’ve ever seen in my entire coaching career.”
Someone voices the thought that comes to my mind. “Excuse me coach, didn’t you retire from the NHL only two years ago?”
I’ve always known that Topher is a fucking idiot, but the douche must have a death wish.
“Mumford,” Coach’s smile widens. “How nice of you to keep up with my career. Too bad you didn’t put as much effort in your performance last night.”
I stifle the laugh that wants to bubble out of me. We all played like shit. After last year’s suspension, Topher has been relegated to third string and since Ryker and Corey both gave embarrassing performances, he saw some ice time last night. He didn’t do any better than the rest of us.
Topher might be an arrogant douche, but his self-preservation instinct eventually kicks in, because he suddenly stares at his skates as if they were the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
“Glad no one else wants to discuss my resume,” Coach says after a beat of silence. “Like I was saying, you guys skated worse than my son’s little league team. He’s five, in case you were wondering. I’m not worried about him, he’s got time to hone his skills, but you? You’re elite athletes. Motherfucking state champions, for fuck’s sake. Some of you have been drafted and have signed contracts with NHL teams. A few of you will start their rookie seasons on NHL ice as early as next year. If I were your future coach? I’d consider dropping you or sending you off to a farm team. A couple more performances like last night’s and I wouldn’t bet a dime on any of you actually going pro.”
At this point we’re all staring at our skates.
Coach’s words are tough, but he’s absolutely spot on.
“Today we’re going to run two on one rush drills. Since your decision making, puck control, shooting accuracy and defensive positioning all need work, you’re going to work on those skills in teams of three. You’re going to keep going until I tell you to stop. And let me make something clear,” Coach’s expression turns stony. “I better see each and every one of you give everything you have during these drills. I don’t give a single fuck if you’re hungover or still drunk. I want to see your blood, sweat and tears or we’ll be here all day. I’ve already split you into teams of three, find your team as I call your names.”
I must have done something really wrong, lately. My karma is really shitty lately.
I’m paired with Cole and Ryker.
Fucking great. The last two people I wanted to run these drills with. Cole is mad at me because of that stupid text I sent Bay—join the club, buddy. I would slap myself if it could undo all the stupid shit I’ve done in the last couple of weeks.—and Ryker left with Bay last night. I know I have no right to be mad or jealous for a million reasons, but I can’t help the bitterness that coats my tongue at how he swooped in with Bay the second I was out of the picture.
We’re directed toward one of the goals and drills are run pretty much in a continuous flow.
“You aren’t allowed to stop between turns. Once someone shoots the puck, whether or not they score, you’ll swap positions. Everyone needs to play offense and defense during each drill. When one shift is over, your team of three will skate laps of the rink until you’re up again.” Coach yells. “I better not see you slacking, keep those heart rates up, ladies.”
COLE
This is my idea of hell.
Coach Harrison has always been tough on us, but this is straight torture. It makes last year’s bag skating look like a walk in the park.
Thank fuck I barely had one beer last night, since I invited Julia—my usual fake date—and she was having fun. I always stay stone cold sober when she’s around, so I can watch out for her if she parties too hard.
Despite not being hungover, these drills are designed to crush us and it works perfectly.
By the time it’s my first shift in front of the goal, I’m sweating like a motherfucker and I’m wondering what the fuck have I done to deserve this.
Can my karma really be this shitty?
Maybe I should help some old ladies cross the road or rescue kittens stranded in a tree or go to church every Sunday. Anything to make sure we don’t get punished by Coach Harrison ever again.
“Marshall, Moore and Connelly, you’re up!” One of the assistant coaches yells. “Moore, you’re on the offense first. Then Connelly, then Marshall. Get a move on.”
I stand in front of the goal, going out of my way not to look at Jagger by my side.
I’m still furious at him for the way he “ended things” with Bay. I don’t give two shits what Topher has on him, he fucked up big time.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I space out and I’m totally taken by surprise when Ryker comes barreling toward us from center ice, skating like he had the devil chasing him.
He must have noticed my distraction, because he zeroes in on me.
“Cole, pay attention!” Jagger collides with me in the attempt to stop Ryker and I almost lose my balance.
“Get the fuck out of my way!” I react, shoving him away.
“Then cover your fucking position.” Jagger growls, hitting my stick with his to get in Ryker’s way as he reaches us, ready to shoot.
I probably should get out of the way, but he doesn’t get to tell me what to do, not when he can’t even be decent enough not to break up with Bay by fucking text.
I shove back. “I got this. You’re in my fucking way. Move!”
Our sticks clash against each other as we fight for position, totally oblivious to Ryker, who has the left hand side totally free. His slap shot sales past us right into the goal.
I ignore Jagger’s scowl. If he didn’t want Ryker to score, he should have stayed out of my fucking way, like I told him.
“Cole, you ok?” Ryker asks as he takes Jagger’s spot.
“Peachy.” I bite out, not even looking at him.
I square my shoulders, looking at Jagger speeding toward us.
We’ve been playing defense on the same line since we were freshmen and Jagger sometimes supports the offensive action. While he isn’t one of our top scorers, as a defenseman, he scores a lot.
Like he scored with my girl.
Fuck. I could tolerate him hooking up with Bay as long as he didn’t hurt her. But he did hurt her and now I want him to feel some fucking pain too.
I don’t wait for him, this isn’t what these drills are about. I skate toward him to take the puck from him. If we take the puck we can shoot even when playing defense. Whose goal it is doesn’t really matter. What Coach wants to see is timing, precision, puck control and shooting accuracy.
He’s so focused on getting closer to shoot, that he isn’t covering his left side and that’s where I’m planning to hit.
However playing together for years, means we can predict each other’s movements fairly accurately.
Jagger knows that if I want that fucking puck, I’ll damn get it, so he changes pace and shoots before I get close enough to cause him problems.
It’s one hell of a slap shot. The kicker? It isn’t aimed at the goal but at my fucking head.
I have to thank my quick reaction time that I move out of its trajectory just in time.
It still isn’t enough. The puck grazes the side of my helmet, making a deafening noise. Even with protection, a direct hit to the head can cause a concussion or other serious injury.
“What the fuck was that?” I skate toward Jagger, who has made a loop behind the net and is coming back to the spot where I was when he hit me. “You could have fucking hurt me.” I yell when we’re within earshot of each other.
Rather than apologizing for his carelessness, Jagger provokes me.
“You’re ok. Believe me, if I wanted to hit you, I would have.”
The fuck is actually wrong with this asshole? I drop my stick. “So you did it on purpose?”
He shrugs, a smirk appearing on his face. “Consider it a warning to stay out of my fucking way next time.”
That’s it.
“You could have ended my fucking season. You could have put next year at risk to prove a fucking point? I thought we were friends.” I drop my gloves, clenching my fists. “You better apologize and watch yourself or I’ll teach you to stay the fuck away from me.”
He drops his gloves and stick, taking his helmet off to face me. “Bring it.”
If this is how he wants to play this, he can be my fucking guest.
Ryker chooses that exact moment to skate between us. “Guys, what the fuck is going on?”
“Stay out of it, Moore.” Jagger snaps.
Interesting. Jagger isn’t just mad at me, he has a problem with Ryker too.
RYKER
If this wasn’t already a shit show, Cole and Jagger had to choose practice to air their differences.
Thank fuck Coach Harrison stepped out for a second to take a phone call, but if he sees us fighting after the way we’ve been playing, there’s gonna be hell to pay.
Of course Cole and Jagger’s confrontation hasn’t gone unnoticed by our teammates who, taking advantage of Coach’s absence, surround us like sharks who smell blood in the water.
“Aww what’s up?” Topher gloats, chiding them. “Is your bromance over?”
Jagger’s scowl deepens. “Don’t think I won’t kick your ass too, Mumford. I can take you both.”
Topher has always been an agent of chaos. The asshole thrives on conflict and he’s obviously jealous that Jagger hooked up with his ex. “I doubt it.” He chuckles. “Besides, don’t let me interrupt whatever is going on between you two. I was merely observing that this isn’t the team spirit Coach was talking about earlier. You might want to sort this out before he sees you, because this looks really bad. Especially for you, Captain.”
His last barb is directed at Cole. “You’re right. I’ll solve my problem with Jagger later, but don’t think I’m not going to help him teach you a lesson first.”
Topher’s smile widens. “Ooh, I’m so scared. Let’s see what you two pussies can do. Glad to see I can help you set your differences aside.”
“Fuck off, Mumford. You’re just bitter because Coach passed on you last year and you don’t get to be both frat president and team captain.” Jagger backs up Cole.
There’s pure evil in Topher’s eyes. “It might be so. But I’m still calling the shots, in and out of the Gamma house. By the looks of it, I’ve got you right where I want you.”
Jesus. This guy is the biggest piece of shit ever. He hasn’t changed at all since we were in high school and he picked fights with every team his academy played against.
I hate to admit it, but he’s also right. If Coach sees them fight, we’re all in for a world of pain. “Guys,” I plead. “Can this wait until later? That dipshit has a point unfortunately.”
They gang up on me.
“I thought I told you to stay out of it, Ryker. You’ve done enough as it is.” Jagger reiterates.
“I hate to agree with him,” Cole glares at me. “But you seriously need to butt out.”
Topher intervenes again. “Yeah, let these dickwads kick each other’s asses, Moore. I’ve got them where I want them, but you and I need to have a word. Or do you think I didn’t see you leaving the party with my girl last night?”
I’m usually excellent at keeping my cool, but hearing Topher call Bay his girl is more than I can take.
“Bay isn’t your girl, motherfucker,” I get in his face, grabbing his jersey and pushing him. “You don’t fucking deserve to breathe the same air as her. And there’s nothing to say between us. Bay is my girl. Do yourself a favor and leave her alone before I make you.”
Topher is three inches shorter than me and probably about thirty pounds lighter, but he doesn’t back down.
“What did you just say? You can’t date Bay. It’s against the Gamma bro-code.” He seethes.
It’s my turn to laugh. “The joke’s on you, asshole. My membership has been inactive since last year and I don’t need Gamma Delta Tau to play hockey or to get laid. I don’t live in your frat house and since I was a member of the Hemlock chapter, you don’t have access to my initiation video. You have nothing on me, Mumford. You and I aren’t brothers and if you cause Bay any problems, I give you my word, you’ll regret it.”
The Gamma president shoves me off of him and with a speed I didn’t know he was capable of—certainly not on the ice—he drops his gloves and socks me on the jaw.
It’s just one lucky punch, he caught me unprepared but there’s no way I’m gonna let him land a second hit.
My gloves hit the ice just as fast as his did and I retaliate with a hook to his side before I hit his face.
Before I know it, we crash down to the ice and it’s complete chaos.
Jagger and Cole step in to try and separate us, but someone yells at them to let us fight it out.
That provokes a reaction by someone else and in seconds our squabble turns into a full blown fight.
Everyone is throwing punches and shoving each other. No doubt there must be some old grudges, especially between people who have been living in the Gamma house for a couple of years now. Some of our teammates love to fight and are throwing punches just for the sake of it.
I can only imagine the way the scene must look to a bewildered Coach Harrison.
The shrill sound of his whistle pierces the air.
We all freeze to check the source of the sound and to see in how much trouble we’re in.
In the silence that follows, you could cut the air with the proverbial knife.
I get to my feet as quickly as I can, Topher a split second behind me. It isn’t lost on me that he lands one last shove, pretending to lose his balance.
If a look could kill, we’d all be put out of our misery on the spot.
“I don’t even want to know what I just walked into,” Coach says, looking at each of us with so much disgust that it’s almost palpable.
“He punched me,” Topher points his finger at me, the lying bastard. “I was just defending myself.”
Coach blows his whistle so hard that his face turns purple. “Mumford, you seem to be under the impression that this is going to be a conversation and that this team is a democracy. I have news for you. This is my team and you’ll speak if and when I ask you to. Right now, I want you to listen. You and every single one of your teammates.”
For once in his life, Topher pipes down.
He busies himself by wiping his bloody mouth with an equally bloody knuckle.
I feel a perverse satisfaction at the thought that I made the motherfucker bleed. I hope he got the message that if he even so much makes Bay frown, I’m going to end his pathetic existence.
But right now, we have one problem in common. Coach is livid and deep down, I can’t say that I blame him.
“The spectacle you just offered as a team is even worse than your performance on the ice as of late. I thought we nipped that crap in the bud last year, but what do you know? We’re back to square one. As it is, Mumford, you’re the common denominator in every fight I’ve ever seen breaking out within this team.”
Topher opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again when Coach levels him with a pointed glare.
“I would suspend you again or kick you out, but I have no doubt that you’d pull the same strings you did during summer break to force my hand into letting you back on the team again. The truth is that it doesn’t really matter. It takes two to tango, or in this case the entire team. If I wasn’t bound by contract to play this season to the bitter end, I would kick you all out. None of you deserves to be on my ice right now.”
Another stretch of loaded silence follows, as Coach sets his displeased gaze on each of us.
“The fact that you were running drills as a punishment for the abysmal performance you offered last night makes the situation even worse.”
I brace myself for a worse punishment than the suicide drills Coach was planning on.
I’m pretty sure each of my teammates is wondering how else Coach could punish us.
“You’re all dismissed.” Coach finally says. “Go home and think long and hard about your attitudes and what the fuck you’re doing here. I’ll see you all tomorrow morning for practice at the usual time. We’re going to Bridgeport next weekend and I promise you all that if by then if you haven't at least learned to respect each other, I’ll let the school administration deal with y’all. Even if that ended up costing me my job, I guarantee you that my head won’t be the only one to roll. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Now get out of my sight.”