Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
I’m crouched on the bench, threading the laces of my skates through each eyelet when my teammate, Finch, plops down next to me. “What landed you in Deeter’s office this time?” he asks with a smirk.
“He just had to ask me something. No big deal.”
Finch claps a hand to my back. “Just remember, I’m here for you, brother.” He skates off and I draw in a deep breath of the cool air.
Finch is the closest thing I have to a friend because I don’t let many people in, but we’re still not at the point where I share too much personal information with him. The truth is, Coach Deeter is on my ass about my grades, again .
Same song and dance, different school year. I’m not smart like the majority of my teammates. After spending a year on a tier-three junior league, I did an open tryout for the Devils’ team. I was damn sure I was just wasting their time. Then, by guts and glory, I was selected to join their roster.
It’s been two years now and I know without a doubt it’s purely talent that got me on the team, not brains. If it weren’t for me being the best center the Devils have seen in fifteen years—their words, not mine—I’d be out on my ass right now.
I just have to keep my eye on my long-term goal, which is to get drafted into the NHL. Hell, I’ll even settle for the WHA. Anything that allows me to do what I love while paying the bills. Lord knows, my shitty off-season jobs don’t do that.Fortunately, I saved enough from my paychecks before I quit my job so I could survive the season. It’s not much, but it’s enough to eat and pay rent.
It’s hard as hell for anyone to juggle school, training, and games, let alone a part-time job on top of it. Each year I’m given no choice but to quit whatever shit-paying job I get, then find a new one when the season ends.
Now all I have to focus on is hockey and school.
At the end of my conversation with Deeter, I promised I’d get my GPA where it needs to be and get us that big W in the season opener this Friday. I know I’ve got other shit going on in my life, but right now, hockey is number one.It’s more than just a hobby for me—it's what I hope will be my livelihood; something I need to protect at all costs because it’s my refuge from a life of poverty.
I sweep away the negative thoughts infiltrating my mind because the last thing I want is to feel sorry for myself. Even when life threatens to drag me six feet underground, I drag my claws in the dirt and climb back to the top.
“Madden,” I hear Lundell, one of our associate coaches, call out from center ice where the team is stretching. “Get your ass down here.”
By the time I get my gear on, I’ve missed warm-ups and I know damn well I’m gonna get shit for it.
I tug on my practice jersey, slip on my gloves and bucket helmet, then join my team in the center of the rink. The sound of my blades cutting through the ice mixes with sticks tapping against pucks.
We begin a round of shooting drills and as I’m slapping the puck back and forth with Finch, my mind wanders to that girl. Pretty sure her name is Brogan. Actually, I know it is because I asked around when I found out she’s dating Kamden.
I still can’t believe she’s with that asshole. I’m not even sure why it bothers me so much. It’s not like I have any strings attached to her, and the chick is as annoying as a dripping faucet. The way she looks at me, like I’m worth less than the dirt on the bottom of her shoe, it digs deep at something I don’t want to acknowledge.
She is hot as hell, though, so I’ll give her that. Curves in all the right places. Long, wavy dark blonde hair that frames her heart-shaped face and electric blue eyes that are damn near blinding. And those fucking legs, they go on for days. The stupid nickname I gave her is fitting as hell because while she might have been undressing me with her eyes the night we met, I was thinking about how good it would feel to spread her gorgeous thighs.
“Who is she?” Finch asks, and I notice his subtle smirk as I smack the puck back to him.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I play dumb, but he must’ve noticed how distracted I was when my brain unwillingly shifted to thoughts of her.
“Oh, come on. I saw you smiling like a schoolboy just now. You were thinking about a girl.”
The scuffed puck hurtles toward me, spinning on its side as it slams into the smooth surface of my curved stick. I toss it back and forth a couple times, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
“You’re delusional,” I quip as I flick my wrist and send it back to Finch.
He stops the puck against the ice with a satisfying smack. “I call bullshit.”
Finch knows damn well I’m not telling him a thing, so he might as well give up. He’s like this annoying little brother who likes to pick and pick. He's a good guy, though. A little too emotional for my liking and always wants to talk about the deep stuff, but I don't give him too much shit for it. After a few minutes of trying to crack my hard shell, he finally gives up—as per usual.
We continue our back-and-forth passing drill until Coach blows the whistle. Then we do fifteen minutes of endurance skating—an extra five for me because of my tardiness on the ice. Fuck you, too, Coach. I don’t say it. Never would. I have the utmost respect for the man, but he sure is a pain in my ass sometimes.
All the while, I can’t seem to get Brogan out of my head. And more so, the fact that her friend knew who I was. I wonder if she’s been talking about me or ever thinks back to that night. Shit. I can still practically feel her tight pussy clamping down around my shaft as I thrust in and out of her heat.
Coach sounds the whistle again, startling me before signaling us to gather off the ice for a team meeting. Shooting me a stern expression, he makes it clear that there are consequences for our actions—missed practices, tardiness, and poor grades included. I fucking hate when he uses me as an example. He doesn’t even have to say it out loud, the entire team knows he’s directing his words at me as he lists off what will not be accepted by the precious school we play for.
The meeting comes to an end and we're dismissed with instructions to head home, study, and get a good night's sleep for our home scrimmage tomorrow against our biggest rivals, the Lords. University students are able to attend for free to show their support for the team and it’s usually a pretty good turnout.
“Fuck, man,” Theo—another teammate, and one of my many housemates—says as we enter the locker room. “You must’ve really got on his bad side this time.”
I roll my neck, cracking my tense muscles. “He’ll get over it. Always does.”
Truth is, I’m not even slightly worried. Coach Deeter would be a fool to kick me off the team. I’m an asset, and he knows it.
After changing out of my practice gear and putting it in my locker, I catch the bus back to the student center because I’m hungry as fuck. Reaching my hand into the front pocket of my leather jacket, I fish for some cash. When I pull my hand out, I’m happy to see I’ve got a crisp twenty-dollar bill.
Daddy’s eating good tonight.
I walk into the student center, pleased to see that Cluck’s Chicken is still open. It’s hit or miss this time of night. Lately they’ve been closing early due to being understaffed, which blows my mind considering there are thousands of students here that could get jobs. Guess they’re the lucky ones who don’t need it.
“How’s it going, Hayes,” my favorite Cluck’s cashier asks from behind the counter. She’s a sweet girl, but not my type. She always blushes when I approach and almost never makes eye contact. She’s also the type of sweet that I stay away from because her heart would literally tuck itself into my bed and pull the blankets up the second I made her come. I’d never be able to get rid of her.
I lean into the counter, arms crossed as I narrow my eyes just so I can see the pink of her cheeks. “Going good, Kaley. How’s your night been?”
Her gaze darts behind me, as per usual. “We’ve actually been pretty busy tonight. A bunch of students are watching a game in the student lounge.”
“Is that so?” I take a look over my shoulder, peering down the hall at the glass walls of the lounge. “Who’s playing?”
She shrugs. “I don’t even know. But I think it’s a football game.”
I nod. “Cool. Cool.” I look up at the menu, thinking I might change up my usual, but when I remember I need to stick to lean protein, I go with what I eat every time I stop by here. “I’ll have two grilled chicken wraps with avocado, spinach, and tomato.”
Kaley snorts. “Already punched it in before you even told me.”
I smack my palm to the counter as I straighten my back. “You’re on top of it tonight.” I slide her my twenty-dollar bill and when she hands me my change, I drop a dollar in the tip jar.
“I’ll have it out for you in just a minute.”
“Thanks, Kaley.” As I’m waiting, I wander down the hall, curious what’s playing on the big screen down the hall.
The student center’s lounge is a hub of activity. There are a few others spread out on campus, but this one is the largest. It’s filled with recliners that are often occupied by napping students. A few flat-screen televisions that usually blare sports. More times than not, there’s an intense game of ping-pong happening, or a heated game of pool.
As I walk closer, my eyes immediately gravitate to a tall blonde silhouette. Her back is to me, but I know those legs. A smile creeps across my face. This night just got a whole lot more interesting.
“Hayes,” I hear Kaley raise her voice and when I spin around, I practically slam into her. There she is, holding my bag of food with a wide smile on her face. “Here you go.” She all but pushes it into my chest and when I take the bag from her, I feel the light brush of her fingers against mine, purposely, no doubt.
“Ugh. Thanks,” I tell her. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Don’t work too hard.”
“You, too, Hayes.” For some reason she loves saying my name.
I walk away holding in a chuckle, and when I look over my shoulder, I see her smile widen farther as she waves. I flick my fingers in the air and head straight to the lounge to see how much shit I can get myself into tonight. Brogan is going to be pissed when she sees me. And I can’t fucking wait.
I step into the room, immediately engulfed in the sound of hoots and hollers from everyone gathered around the big screen to watch the Bucks and Cougars college football game.
I reach into my bag and pull out my chicken wraps, tossing the empty bag into a nearby trash bin. Navigating through the tightly-packed crowd, I make my way toward Brogan.
Keeping my presence unknown, I stand behind her, watching and listening. To her, not the game.
Her eyes are focused intently on the TV. I notice each quick breath and muttered curse. Every once in a while, she lets out a heavy sigh, or a sudden jolt of excitement that pulses through me.
She’s so hung up on the game that she doesn’t even realize I’m standing behind her stuffing my face with chicken wraps.
I’ve never met a girl who loves sports so much. Even if it is the wrong sport. Don’t get me wrong, football is great. It’s a nice pastime when hockey isn’t playing on TV. But there really is no comparison when it comes to feeling that exhilarating rush we all crave.
“Hayes, my man!” I hear the voice come from behind me before a hand smacks firmly against my back. “Long time no see.”
Brogan spins around and we come face to face. The jig is up. Not that I was actually hiding. Keep your enemies close, right?
“How ya been?” The guy with his hand on my back says with a crooked smile. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for a response. But the longer I study his face, the more certain I am that I’ve never met this guy before.
“Lenny,” he says, noticing my quizzical expression. “We had AP History together last semester.”
Rolling the wrappers from my dinner in my hand, I pass them to Lenny. “It was good seeing you again, Lenny. Can you do me a favor and toss those? Thanks.” I give him a swift pat on the back as I step around him.
I lean into Brogan’s side and shoot a thumb over my shoulder. “Who the hell is that guy?”
She laughs. “Why are you here, Hayes?”
“What do you mean why am I here? Same reason you are.” I point to the big screen. “Came to watch the game.”
“Do you even like football?” she asks. “Pretty sure you said you’re a hockey fan.”
“Ah.” I smirk. “You remember?” I clear my throat. “And yes, I do enjoy hockey. But football is all right, too.”
“Oh, come on. That was a bullshit call!” Brogan hollers at the screen before returning her attention to me. “So you’re saying you prefer to watch barbaric men on ice skates?”
I laugh. “There’s more to it than that. But yeah, I guess I do.”
“Shhh,” she hums.
My eyebrows pinch together. “Did you really just shush me?”
She puts a finger over her mouth, holding it there before grabbing my forearm and digging her fingertips into my skin, her eyes focused intently on the screen. “Gooooo!”
I can’t believe she just shushed me. Nobody shushes me.
I look down at her hand bracing my arm, noticing her nails painted in blood orange and black, our school colors. I bet she goes to all the football games.
“Who do you think will win?” I ask, stealing her attention from the game again.
She quickly releases her grip on my arm, her fingers falling away like she didn’t realize they were there in the first place. “Oh, the Bucks for sure. Their win is in the bag.”
“Hmm.” I tap my chin, strategically thinking. The Bucks are down right now. They just got a penalty on the last play. I think she’s wrong. This could go one of two ways, but I’m willing to take the risk. “Care to bet on it?”
Her eyes snap to mine and she chuckles. “If you really want to bet that the Cougars are going to win, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought you were.”
I’m slightly offended here. I’ve been called many names, but idiot is new. I get it, she hates me because I slept with her then basically kicked her out of my room. But in my defense, I never gave her any reason to think it was more than just sex.
“You think I’m an idiot?”
A growly sound rumbles in her chest as she keeps her stare fixed on the screen. “I think you’re persistent. And annoying. And a player. And I’m pretty sure I said I never want to see you again. Yet here you are… again .”
Ignoring everything she just said, I get back to the bet. “Two minutes left in the game. Are you in, or are you out?”
She turns her body toward mine, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “What’s the wager?”
I lift my shoulders. “What do you want?”
“I want you to stay away from me for good, so I can fix my relationship. Kamden hasn’t answered any of my calls today and I think it’s only right that I blame you for that.”
“Me?” I bring my hands to my chest. “What the fuck did I do?”
“I don't know yet, but I’m starting with the fact that you pissed him off in the first place. Then I’ll run with the idea that you knew my phone was recording that voicemail and purposely talked about the night we…”
“Fucked.” I say it for her since she doesn’t have the gall to say the word herself. “We fucked.”
Her cheeks tinge pink and it makes my lip curl in response. “Whatever,” she grumbles.
“And I didn’t purposely record anything. I didn’t even know you and Kamden were a thing. As for me pissing him off in the first place, maybe you should ask him why he’s so pissed.”
“I can’t,” she raises her voice. “I can’t ask him anything if he won’t talk to me.”
“That’s his problem then.”
She shakes her head, obviously annoyed. “Anyways, that’s what I want when I win. Stay the hell away from me.”
“Deal,” I tell her. Yet, for some reason, regret is gnawing at my insides. There is a good chance she’s going to win, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay away like she wants. I might not like this girl, but I love getting under her skin. It’s satisfying in some fucked-up way. I also can’t deny that I thought about her a lot after she walked out of my room that night. I’ve thrown away a few pairs of stray panties in my room over the years, but for some reason, I kept hers. Also fucked up.
Brogan curls her fingers at me. “All right, let's have it. What do you want on the very slim chance the Cougars win?”
“The Devils’ hockey team has a scrimmage game tomorrow night. Students get in free. If I win, I want you to go.”
She snorts, crossing her arms in disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me to go watch a hockey game with you? I don’t even like you.”
“I don’t like you either, but no, I’m not asking you to watch a game with me. In fact, I won’t even be watching. I’ve got plans.”
“Lemme guess, a date?” Her eyes narrow, almost like she is trying to guess what I have planned.
I respond with a lazy shrug. I could tell her my plans, but I wanna keep this girl on her toes. Besides, I swear I just saw a flash of jealousy in her eyes.
I continue, “I want you to get a taste for some real excitement because I love saying I told you so .”
“You would,” she gripes, the creases in her forehead prominent.
I tip my chin proudly, a smug grin playing on my lips. “By the end of tomorrow night, you’ll be the Devils’ hockey team’s biggest fan. When you lose our little bet, I’ll make sure there is a rinkside seat waiting just for you.” I bop her nose, and she growls before slapping my hand away.
“ If I lose.” She makes her words clear.
“All right, all right. If you lose.”
Brogan turns her attention back to the game as the play begins. “The Bucks might be down by four points but they only have twenty yards to go with thirty seconds on the clock. It’s in the fucking bag,” she announces confidently.
I don’t even watch the game; I watch her. Every twitch of her lips, the way her cheeks pinken under my stare.
Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as the play unfolds. Then, she goes still, so still I don’t even have to look at the screen. I’m pretty sure she’s holding her breath.
“Catch the damn ball!” she shouts as her feet leave the ground.
“He fucking fumbled it,” I hear someone holler from the crowd gathered around us.
The second Brogan’s face drops in her hands, a grin spreads across my face. Her misery is my triumph.
Seconds pass and a heave of heavy sighs fills the room, telling me all I need to know. When I finally look at the screen, I see that the Cougars won.
I lay a heavy hand on her shoulder and she lifts her head. “I think the Bucks win just fell out of the bag, Legs.”
“I hate you,” she seethes.
“You can hate me today as long as you don’t fall in love with me tomorrow. I don’t wanna have to break your little heart.”
She scoffs. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”
“We’ll see about that.” I drop my hand. “Front row next to the players’ benches. Your name will be on the seat. Bring a friend.” I give her my back and walk to the door to leave, feeling fucking victorious.