21. Hockey Power
Hockey Power
Keene
A couple of days later
Bex : Come at the end of the workshop and bring all your hockey gear. Everything, including the protective gear. The only thing you don’t need is your skates.
Bex’s message has been replaying in my head over and over since I found it this morning, right before starting practice.
Since the debacle of the game against Bridgeport, Coach Harrison has been hellbent on teaching us a lesson.
Fighting is allowed in professional hockey, but at the collegiate level the rules are crystal clear. Fighting is not permitted.
The full-on brawl between the Cove Knights and Bridgeport Tigers has become the talk of the league.
As it is, it doesn’t look like there are going to be any lasting consequences. Probably the fact that the news of Priestly’s arrest had reached the NCAA bigwigs helped a great deal in viewing our beef with him in a different light.
The disciplinary committee is aware of the reasons why we had a problem with the Bridgeport Tigers’ captain.
Regardless of that, we received an official warning that we need to stay on the straight and narrow from now on.
A repeat of last week’s antics would have irreparable consequences for the rest of our season.
So, I’ve been wondering what Bex has in mind for my next art project while skating with a rucksack full of pucks on my back.
A line of trash cans divide the ice rink into two lanes so that we could skate in two groups to the point of exhaustion.
Every single one of my teammates puked their guts out into those trash cans. Some of them, like Tucker, more than once.
I’m the only one who kept his breakfast where it belonged. Rock marches are a thing in the army, so this wasn’t the worst punishment I’ve had to endure in my life.
The day has passed in a distracted haze, and I’ve gone through my classes and afternoon practice thinking about Bex’s message.
Why did she ask me to go to the art center to work on my new project due for Professor Cantucci’s class after the workshop is over? And why did she want me to bring my hockey gear?
I replied to her message earlier asking why, but Bex didn’t get back to me. I know she saw the text because of the read receipt, but I’m left hanging. I hit a quick shower after our evening practice and headed to the art center.
Bex’s message hasn’t been the only thing on my mind, though, if I have to be honest. Since I beat the crap out of her ex, there’s been a strange feeling in my head that has literally kept me up at night.
I keep picturing the way Bex looked for solace and safety in Connor’s arms that night at the arena.
I can’t stop replaying how she walked into Connor’s room with him and Jamie.
They both had their arms around her, and she looked so comfortable, so trusting.
Things have been better between me and Bex since our truce began, but I know she doesn’t trust me the same way she does Jamie and Connor.
It’s that awareness that has been stuck in my head on repeat, bothering me like a thorn in my side. And I’ve picked at it and examined it over and over. It’s not jealousy; it’s much worse.
It’s longing.
For some fucked up reason, I seem to want her to look at me the same way she looks at them.
I know all too well that I don’t deserve it.
I was an absolute piece of shit to Bex when she first got here, and our truce has improved the situation, making our relationship civil.
I haven’t tried to get closer; I haven’t opened up with her aside from when I told her about how I got Poonani.
Even then, I managed to say something wrong because getting closer to her scares the hell out of me.
Despite everything, I’ve been looking at her, at them , wishing I could be a part of whatever it is that they have.
Especially now that they can be together without worrying about Bex’s safety.
With her stalker behind bars, her father has really decided to protect his remaining assets by deleting all the posts and comments taunting Bex on his clients’ social media.
The cops already had everything documented, but it’s clear that by deleting everything he can claim that he didn’t put Aisha and the others up to harassing Bex.
He’s getting out of this situation maintaining a squeaky clean image, pretending to cooperate with the police. And thanks to Aisha’s silence, her pregnancy looks like a normal occurrence between an engaged couple, rather than the result of a sinister scheme.
So life has gone back to normal, and Connor and Jamie haven’t been hiding how they feel about Bex, at least when they’re at home.
This entire time I’ve been feeling their eyes on me, too.
I know they think I have feelings for her, even if they haven’t brought it up again after that day when Jamie told us the truth about how their relationship started.
Knowing that they wouldn’t stand in my way if I wanted to be with Bex, makes things worse rather than better.
If they were jealous, I would have a huge reason why my crush on Bex has to remain just a crush.
Because I would never betray a friend and teammate, no matter how much I wanted a woman.
But they aren’t jealous, and if Bex wanted me, I could get to know her better, ask her on a date.
That’s fucking terrifying.
Because first off, what if this magnetic attraction I feel to her is just one sided? And even worse, what if I’m too damaged to ever be with someone again? If Bex and I dated and I fucked it all up, I wouldn’t hurt just her. I would hurt my best friends too, and I would end up losing them.
That’s a risk I’m too afraid to take; I have too much to lose.
It’s with those thoughts weighing on me like a bag full of pucks that I enter the art center just as Bex dismisses the other people who attend her workshop.
I wait just outside the classroom until everyone is gone, with my hockey bag in hand.
Keene
“Hey Bex,” I enter the classroom after the last student has left.
“Keene.” She beams at me, looking genuinely excited to see me. “Didn’t you get my message this morning?”
Her eyes track my joggers and Cove Knights hoodie and the fact that my hair is still slightly damp from the shower.
“I have everything here.” I say, lifting my duffel bag to show her. “You didn’t want me to come over here drenched in sweat after practice, did you?”
The corners of her lips curl up in a barely there smile. “I guess not. But I need you to put on your hockey uniform, including the protective gear, please.”
If I didn’t know any better, I would think this is some kind of prank or maybe that our sweet little Bex has a real kink for hockey players, since she’s dating two.
But I remind myself that we’re on that truce and saying that would make me sound like a total asshole. After all, if she had some kink that involved hockey gear, she would ask Jamie and Connor to come home wearing it, not me.
“Fine.” I bite out. “Be right back. I’m gonna go change in the bathroom.”
“You can change here.” She smiles. “Put these on when you’re ready and come to the last classroom at the end of this hallway.”
She hands me a pair of inline skates.
“Where did you get these?” I muse after checking. “And they’re in my size.”
Bex rolls her eyes. “I rented them at the skating rink at the park. And duh, we’re roommates. I looked at the shoes you always take off at the door.”
A couple of weeks ago, I would have teased her about being nosy. But I don’t. Whatever Bex is planning, getting the skates for me and checking my size was strangely thoughtful.
“Ok.” I nod. “See you in a couple of minutes.”
I change into my full hockey gear as quickly as possible, thinking about how pretty Bex looks in the outfit she has on today.
The black pencil skirt that stops right above her knees highlights her shapely hips to perfection; she paired it with a silky shirt closed by tiny round buttons covered in the same pale pink fabric of the shirt. The color complements her fair complexion and makes her green eyes pop.
Her long blonde hair is loose down her shoulders, giving the professional outfit a more carefree look.
Shit. I have to stop picturing her legs and her ass, her tits and her lips or I’m gonna get hard in my hockey pants.
Usually that wouldn’t be much of a problem since I would be wearing a cup during a game, but that’s the only protective gear I didn’t grab today because I didn’t think it was necessary.
I’m guessing Bex wants to take some kind of photos of me in my gear that we might work on for my art project, and I’m sure neither she nor Professor Cantucci wants to see my boner.
So I take a couple of calming breaths and think about something disgusting to deflate the situation in my pants. Tucker’s lucky underwear does the trick, and I can skate to the next room without fear of being embarrassed. I grab my stick, since Bex was adamant I needed to bring it and join her.
“What is this?” I ask when I don’t find the classroom with a row of easels I was expecting.
This classroom is twice the size of the others and doesn’t have any furniture inside.
Another thing that differs is that the floor here is made of unfinished wooden planks rather than the tiles I saw in the classroom I was just in.
The walls are bare aside from three huge white canvases hanging on the long wall opposite me. They’re taller than me, so I guess they must be around seven feet tall.
Bex is standing at the furthest end from the canvases. “Come here and stop on the X I marked on the floor, please.”
I do as I’m told with a question on the tip of my tongue.
“What are we?—”
Splash .
I was so busy asking her what she’s planning on doing, since I don’t see any cameras and her phone is nowhere in sight, that I didn’t see the bucket of paint in her hands. She just threw its contents on my face, and my entire front is covered with light blue paint.
“What the fuck?” I sputter paint from my mouth and feel more running out of my nostrils and ears.