Chapter 2
Theo (Two Years Later: Summer before senior year of high school)
Sweat poured down my back. The defensemen had finished a grueling series of two-on-twos, and we all sat on the bench waiting for that hellish practice to end.
Our forwards were doing suicides. Don’t get me wrong, suicides were the worst, and I felt for those poor guys out there, but it was clear summer was in the air because they were practically crawling on the ice.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “COME ON, YOU FUCKERS! MOVE!”
“Moretti! Sit down and shut up,” Assistant Coach Briar screamed at me.
I couldn’t help it. I had to get out of there!
Rowan was throwing a rager that night, and all I wanted was to kick back in his Jacuzzi and forget about everything.
Plus, the hottest girls at school were gonna be there, and I couldn’t get Cynthia Rowland out of my mind.
Damn, she was fire. Long auburn hair, killer smile—I’d walk over hot coals for a girl like that.
I already knew how I’d catch her, too. I’d hop in that Jacuzzi, get the guns all nice and wet, flex the pecs, and put on a show.
The girls loved it when I did that—got their attention every damn time.
Before practice, I’d given everyone a pep-talk. “Let’s ace this so Coach lets us out early. Then we can get hammered and make out with some honeys!”
Clearly, my pep-talk didn’t work. I could see the fire in his eyes. Coach Hughes was livid, and we weren’t going to be leaving anytime soon.
Every single one of our forwards moved like molasses.
Well, except for our top three—Asher, Cody, and Rafael.
Rafael was new, but the guy could skate.
The three of them were doing the heavy lifting for the rest of the team, pushing themselves hard, maintaining their pace, and staying agile.
But that wasn’t good enough. We were a team, and Coach wanted one hundred percent from everyone.
It didn’t matter if you were in the top three or would probably never see the ice in a game.
If you played for the Vipers, you had to work.
Asher was my best friend, and I do mean my best friend. Other dudes tried to pal around with him because he was our center and team captain, but they didn’t hold a candle to me.
I could tell Asher was furious. He took Coach’s criticism personally—like it was up to him to lift the rest of the team. Sure, he was captain, but he wasn’t responsible for making sure everyone didn’t drag ass on the ice. It had been a long practice already, but he was still pushing.
Asher was everything a guy should be, and I admired the hell out of him.
Many high school athletes play because it’s a status symbol.
You’re instantly thrust into the social stratosphere when you’re a star athlete, and most guys only care about that.
Not Asher. He was the personification of passion .
He came from nothing and worked his butt off for everything he got in life—the kind of dude you couldn’t help but respect.
He was also smart, though he downplayed that constantly, and funny as hell.
My only beef was that he was incredibly hard on himself.
Hopefully, he’d just let himself have fun at Rowan’s party.
Knowing him, he would be fuming about the rest of the team not pushing hard enough.
That’s why I messed with him so much. It was my little way of helping him lighten up. Life is too freaking short not to have a little fun.
I remember the day we met. We bonded right away, literally the first practice.
Both of us were scared shitless to be playing with such a fantastic team, and Coach Hughes was renowned for being tough on his players.
I put up a good front, but I was shaking with nerves.
I looked at the dudes surrounding me, and they all had these well-rehearsed scowls etched into their faces.
Whether real or not, all of them looked ready.
I scanned the players, hoping to find someone I could befriend, when I saw Asher.
I can’t really describe why, but I instantly felt something pulling me towards him.
Every once in a while, there was a guy that I’d zero in on and just know that I admired them.
It was hard to understand why, because I barely knew them, but I somehow knew they were awesome and had to become their friend—it became a personal mission of mine.
Never did I have that feeling stronger than when I saw Asher.
He didn’t have a shit-eating grin or a big tough scowl on his face like the others.
He looked nervous, and it made me want to wrap my arm around his shoulder and tell him he was going to do great.
Nobody would have noticed, but his hands were shaking as he clenched his stick.
His emerald green eyes scanned the sea of guys, looking for help.
That’s when my protective instincts kicked in, and I knew right then and there that he would be my best friend.
Whether he liked it or not. I’d figure out a way to make him like me.
But I couldn’t just skate over and start hugging the kid.
That would be weird as fuck. So, instead, I skated to his side and told him he looked like the psychotic Chucky doll from the horror movie.
Asher didn’t look like that at all. He was just a redhead, and that’s where the similarities ended, but it was the first thing I noticed.
His hair looked like it was flaming under the rink lighting, and I couldn’t stop looking at it.
I had to say something shitty or he’d think I was creepy.
Asher looked at me, wide-eyed, when I compared him to the serial killer doll. He clenched his jaw, then told me I looked like a tan Shrek, and I fucking died.
I kind of do.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Coach was giving his first practice pep talk, and there I was, keeled over, covering my mouth, trying to muffle my laughter.
Soon, Asher started snickering, too, and, together, we cracked up for the rest of practice while poking fun at each other. We were pals from that day forward.
Coach blew his whistle. “Again!”
Goddamit!
It was summer for fuck’s sake! I didn’t want to be sitting on the bench in a cold rink watching these goons skate from the blue line to the red and back again; I wanted to nurse a cup of juice like a king in Rowan’s jacuzzi with Asher!
We had to get ready for college—athletes knew how to drink, and I didn’t want to be a lightweight my freshman year .
I was hoping Asher and I would attend the same school, although he didn’t know if he’d even be able to afford college. Hopefully, he’d get an athletic scholarship—hell, he could even get a merit-based scholarship with his grades.
If we went to the same school, then we could room together. It would be like a permanent sleepover! Asher was like family to me, and I knew if we went to the same school, then I’d be able to look out for him.
I grew up in a big-ass Italian family—I literally have forty cousins—and Mom taught me that you had your family’s back no matter what.
That’s how I felt about Asher. He was like a brother to me, and, considering I had two loud as fuck older sisters, I was in dire need of some male energy in my life.
“LET US GO HOME,” I screamed at Coach.
He shot me a withering stare and replied, “You wanna join them, Moretti?”
Damn, his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Coach was scary as hell. He exuded authority, and I loved him for it. You wanna know the guy steering the ship was a real leader. We were a team of egos, myself included, and someone needed to keep our asses in check.
I shook my head, eyes wide with fear, and he smirked.
I looked at Rafael, who was panting and beet-red with exhaustion, and mouthed, “I tried.”
I could be friends with Rafael.
He was quiet, but he had this glint in his eye that told me he knew how to have fun.
Rafael was Cody’s stepbrother, and the two absolutely hated each other.
Cody nearly had a fit when Rafael made the team.
I didn’t know what happened between them, but I thought Cody was being kind of unreasonable.
Rafael had just moved from Connecticut to New York and was trying to settle in with a new hockey team.
You’d think Cody would cut him some slack.
I wonder if Rafael will be at the party tonight?
Knowing Cody, he probably didn’t even tell Rafael about the party, and I doubt anyone else did. He kind of waltzed in and made the top three immediately. I could tell the other guys were seething about it, but you can’t deny talent.
Coach made the forwards do another agonizing round of suicides before bellowing, “Alright! Go home. I don’t want to see another practice like that ever again. Got it? Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean you get to slack off.”
The entire team clomped their way to the locker room; the forwards moving like they had cinder blocks tied to their feet.
I shot a look back at Coach and screamed, “Goodnight, Captain,” and gave him a little salute.
Coach glared at me and then chuckled. “Get the hell out of here, Moretti.”
I shot a wink and hustled my way up to Asher and Cody. I knew Coach got a kick out of me. Was I a showboat and annoying as hell? One hundred percent, but I was also funny, and comedy goes a long way in this shitshow called life.
I followed the team as they made their way to the locker room and caught up to Cody and Asher, who were walking side by side.
“Nice work out there,” I gave them both a firm slap on the ass. Unfortunately, their pads absorbed most of the blow. “Way to show up. We’re meeting at your place, right, Asher?”
Asher turned to face me, his jaw clenched. “I said yes before, didn’t I?”
“Oh, I knew the little pretty boy was going to be fussy tonight. I could see it on your face out there.” I made my voice sound all cute and baby-like while I pinched his cheek. “That little scowl of yours was making your pretty face all twisted and pruney.”
Asher blushed as I pinched his cheek. I loved embarrassing him. He slapped it away, but he couldn’t hide his little smile. “I’m not in a bad mood. I’m just tired, alright?”
“Aww.” I continued my baby talk. “The star center didn’t like having his ass handed to him by Coach Hughes?”
Asher shoved me, but I barely moved. Not to brag, but I was six feet six inches and jacked for the Gods, baby.
Okay, I’m bragging .
All I could say was, good luck meeting my big ass on the ice.
“Did you just try to push me, you little bitch?” I picked the redheaded menace up by the waist and hoisted him over my shoulder.
“Put me down, you big Neanderthal!”
“Rookies! Who wants to give the captain a spanking!”
Asher started kicking his feet, but his laugh echoed off the walls surrounding us. “If anyone touches me, I swear to God—”
My body spun, skates nearly breaking on the rubber mats covering the floor, as I swung Asher around like a rag doll. He screamed like a little girl, and my laughter made me keel over. We fell to the ground together, the two of us cracking up.
He landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. “I think you snapped something,” I gasped out.
Asher rolled off me while saying, “Serves you right, Big Boy. I’m not one of those little junior girls you chase around like a horned-up perv.”
“Fuck that. They chase me.”
Asher rolled his eyes, a typical move for him, as he got up. “ Whatever you need to tell yourself, Big Boy.”
He extended an arm, helping me off the floor, and I wrapped my arm around him while the two of us made our way to our lockers.
Something about having my arm around Asher just feels right.
We’d dressed side by side since we were just a couple of sixteen-year-old rookies.
I tore off my jersey and started peeling the pads off my sweat-soaked body.
Asher was getting undressed next to me, and I noticed several bruises on his arms. It kind of looked like someone was grabbing him, or something.
“Fuck,” I said. “Someone got you good out there. They did that through their gloves?”
Asher looked puzzled before I motioned to the bruises on his arm.
He blinked and said, “Oh. Yeah. I forget who did that. That whole fucking practice is a blur. He worked us hard tonight.”
“Yeah, but don’t you fucking bail on Rowan’s party. I’ll grab the booze and come to your place right after, okay?”
Asher nodded. “Cody’s driving us.”
I knew Cody wouldn’t be drinking; he hated alcohol, but he liked hanging out with us. It was cool of him to cart our drunk asses all over New Rochelle.
I took a whiff under my right armpit and nearly fucking gagged. “Damn, I smell like rotted ass.” I grabbed Asher by the back of his head and pulled him into my pit. “Don’t I? Doesn’t my pit smell like rotted ass? Doesn’t it?”
Asher started jabbing my side. “Let me go! You smell like a dead buffalo!” I released him, and he reeled back, gagging like he had almost suffocated. “Jesus Christ! That stank is fucking deadly!”
He wasn’t wrong. I used deodorant, but it didn’t matter. My musk was lethal; get too close and it might singe your eyebrows right off. “I’m gonna shower,” I said through a chuckle. “Coming?”
Asher shook his head. “Nah, I’ll shower at home—wanna freshen up for the party.”
“I know that’s right! Get fresh for the honeys, buddy. Get that red clown wig on your head nice and primped so you can get that D wet.”
He raised a brow and laughed while I hung up my shit and snagged a towel. “Alright. I’ll see you and Cody in a bit.”
I made my way to the shower, leaving Asher at his locker. “Alright! Hazing time, you rookies. Who’s sucking my dick first?”
Briar yelled from the office, “Moretti, if you don’t settle down, I swear to God, I’ll convince Hughes to bench you for the first official game.”
God, Assistant Coach Briar was such a bitch.