Chapter 10
MICHAEL
Skate by Silk Sonic
(Bruno Mars the plastic is slightly cold as I settle into it.
The arena is filling up, sounds rising in layers, a symphony of footsteps and chatter.
I let out a small breath and turn to my companions. “Don’t expect a boost in your grade for hanging out with me,” I tease, trying for lightness. I chuckle, but there’s a part of me that means it.
They all laugh. “We don’t need it anyway,” Luká? says.
And he’s right. They’re all outstanding students. I wasn’t surprised when I saw Taj has been sitting comfortably in the top five since his first year. If whatever we did ever gets out, at least it won’t look like I traded good marks for sexual favours.
A few minutes later, a woman settles into the seat beside me and smiles.
It’s polite, something to be expected in such a packed arena where everyone is squeezed together.
I smile back automatically, but she looks away just as quickly, turning her attention to the ice.
I blink at that, then turn to Taj, ready to ask if I have something stuck in my teeth, only to be met with his scowling face.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“She’s flirting with you,” he says flatly.
“She’s not. She’s being polite.”
Taj gives me a pointed look. “You don’t know the effect you have on people, do you?”
That makes me pause. The tone he just used is similar to Rita’s whenever someone so much as smiled in my general direction.
Back then, I thought she was exaggerating, making a mountain out of absolutely nothing, that she was being dramatic for the sake of it.
I didn’t understand until the same messages I labelled ‘harmless’ became full on stalking.
Then there’s the eventual burning of her car.
In the end, she left . . . or maybe ran.
I’m still not entirely sure which word fits better.
Now, I’m sitting here, staring at a woman who has only been polite, and I find myself wondering if I should’ve even smiled back.
Not because I think she has done anything wrong, but because I don’t want to invite anything that grows teeth later on.
The thought of anyone getting obsessed to the point where they’ll try to harm Taj makes my stomach churn.
I clear my throat and force the thought down, deciding it’s not where I want my thoughts to go.
I change the topic. “Which one is your friend?” I ask Taj.
His expression eases immediately. He lets out a small chuckle and looks back to the ice. “Isn’t it obvious? The black one there.” He points, shouting, “Hey, Kingsley!”
“He’s so hot!” Luká? says, almost drooling.
Angelika nods beside him, her eyes fixed on the ice.
I swear I didn’t see a single black player when I scanned the ice earlier. Now that I’m looking again, I notice him stretching near the boards, rolling his shoulders. At the mention of his name, he looks up and his face breaks into a wide smile directed straight at Taj.
He cups his hands around his mouth, gloves still on, voice loud enough to cut through the noise. “Don’t leave without seeing me!” Then he turns and skates off with the rest of the players.
Something hot curls in my gut. I don’t even know what to call it.
I shouldn’t be affected by something that simple.
Maybe I’m just overthinking it, or maybe I’m a masochist. Because the truth is, I know exactly what I want when it comes to Taj.
That part has been clear for a while, whether I’ve admitted it properly to myself or not.
The problem is everything else that comes with it, the fact that I can’t have him in the way I desire.
I tried stepping back, but it only made me miss him, more than I ever expected to.
But staying close to him feels like I’m being torn in two directions.
What does all of this actually mean for me?
I’ll watch him flirt with other people, knowing I have no right to stop it.
Knowing at some point, he’ll take one or even all of them to bed.
Will I just be expected to be fine with it?
I’m not sure I’m built for that. The alternative is distance, and I already know how that feels.
So, I end up stuck somewhere in the middle, which is possibly the worst place to be.
It’s not just about wanting him in some vague, abstract way.
It’s specific, and I don’t know how to switch it off.
Could I be content with only wanking to thoughts of him?
Knowing my brain doesn’t do subtle, that it will keep torturing me with the things I’ve seen before?
Like seeing Austin and Roland fucking—except in my fantasy, I’m the one bent over with Taj behind me.
I shake my head, trying to force my attention back to the ice.
I have a very uncanny ability to make myself miserable in my own head.
I can’t continue letting my thoughts run amok.
“You okay there?” Taj asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I answer quickly. “Where are the players?”
“They’ll be back out soon,” he says.
A pause stretches between us. I blurt out the next question without thinking it through. “Was there ever anything between you and Kingsley?”
Taj laughs. “God, no.” He shakes his head. “King and I can’t be an item. He’s so intense. He’s got traits I can’t keep up with.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s kind of overprotective. Let’s just say he’s not afraid of anything, or anyone.”
That doesn’t clear anything up for me, but I nod anyway because I’m not sure I want to ask for more details. “Aren’t you guys around the same age?” I say instead.
“Yeah, I’m a few months older than him,” he replies. “We’ve been inseparable for a while, and I’ll miss him when he leaves after his twentieth birthday.”
“He’s leaving?”
“Yeah. He got drafted by a team in Canada last year. He’ll be the first Nigerian to play in the NHL, which is just so cool.”
Before I can ask any follow-up questions, the players are getting called back onto the ice.
I find myself tracking Kingsley without meaning to.
There’s something about him that stands out.
He looks young, truly, even more so than Taj.
But I can see what Taj meant earlier. While most of the players have that relaxed pre-game look, either smiling or just settling into focus, Kingsley is different.
There’s something intense about the way his face is set.
“Do they shake each other?” I ask Taj.
“Nah,” he answers without looking away from the ice. “Not before the game. If they know each other, they would have already acknowledged each other during warm-ups. Formal handshakes are usually after a playoff series ends.”
The noise in the rink builds again as both teams take position, arranging themselves across the ice. I watch as Kingsley and another player bend low across from each other, stick down, body still, the referee standing between them with what I now recognise as the puck.
“Why is Kingsley there?” I ask.
“He’s the centre and usually takes the faceoff,” Taj answers.
Oh boy, there’s a lot I need to learn about hockey.
The referee drops the puck, and everything happens at once.
Kingsley moves first, pulling it back cleanly to one of his teammates.
The crowd goes haywire, their cheers bouncing off every surface in the arena.
Taj actually jumps up from his seat. I stay put, slightly slower on the uptake, trying to work out what just happened and whether I’m supposed to be impressed.
As the game progresses, I still don’t fully understand what’s going on.
The puck is hard to follow, flicking between sticks and skates, and half the time I lose it completely.
At some point, Kingsley leaves the ice. A line change, Taj explains. I also learn that instead of a half-time like in football, there are three periods instead.
Kingsley scores the only goal of the game during the third period.
It happens too fast for me to properly see the build-up, but the crowd’s reaction tells me everything I need to know.
The arena erupts, Ironclad fans chanting his name.
There’s something familiar about it. It reminds me of how the fans back in England used to chant Roland’s name after a save.
It brings a pang to my heart knowing how quickly their admiration turned just because he fell in love with a man.
“Let’s go see Kingsley now,” Taj declares, getting to his feet once the game ends.
Luká? is practically bouncing where he’s standing, holding up three jerseys with Kingsley’s name. “I brought my jerseys for him to sign.”
“Wow, you’re his number one fan, huh?” I can’t help smiling. “But you guys go ahead, I need to leave.”
Taj leads me away, so we’re not blocking anyone. The noise of the arena is still loud around us as people start moving towards the exits. “Didn’t you have fun?” he asks.
“Of course, I did,” I tell him honestly. “I just need to get some grading done. But I’m glad I came. I think I might actually become a hockey fan.”
That earns me one of his charming smiles. “I will arrange our next date.” And before I can interject, he adds, “Oops, I mean ‘platonic hangout in public’.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. The effect Taj has on me should really be studied . . . because that smile makes me want to follow him everywhere like a lost puppy.
“Looking forward to it,” I say like a smitten fool.
We walk back to Luká? and Angelika, and I do my best to act normal while saying goodbye.