Chapter 6
ETHAN
“I’ve gotta go,” Jett mutters and slips away from me.
I stand there like an idiot and say nothing.
I want to stalk after him, but for some reason, I can’t move my legs.
I’m lightheaded, shivering, and I’m also sweating like I’ve got a fever, and I wonder if I’m about to pass out.
Running an absent hand over my head, my body stills when my palm meets the prickly layer of stubble on my scalp.
Why did no one ever tell me what a fucking rush it is to shave your head?
I’ve pulled all kinds of pranks and tried all kinds of dares, but this?
It’s nothing major and yet, there’s a definite shift inside me.
I knew it as soon as Jett touched me. My hair is gone, but I’m not as anxious about the loss as I’d imagined.
I glance at my reflection in the kitchen window, and I look older, different, and not only that, I feel different.
Or maybe it’s that I don’t have anything to hide behind.
Am I hiding? From what?
I don’t have the answer, and that frustrates me. I’m always good at figuring shit out. I can read people, and I know exactly what buttons to push to get what I want. But as to how I’m feeling right now, I don’t know the why of it. It’s completely unsettling and totally unlike me.
For fuck’s sake, it’s only hair. Get over yourself.
Tell that to my heart, which is pounding so hard it’s about to claw its way out of my chest. I blame it all on Jett and that fucking game today. I’m on edge, and I don’t understand it. I’m still mad that we lost, but I’m jacked up, weirdly excited, and for some reason my cock is too.
Yep, I’m incredibly horny and there’s not a woman in sight. There is, in fact, no one in this room who I’m even remotely attracted to and no one that I’m thinking about either.
Only Jett.
Wait, what?
Time out. Stop the game.
I did not think that. Those shots must’ve been spiked with more than alcohol.
“Looking good, Walrus.”
Silas’s comment thankfully interrupts my wayward thoughts, and when I turn to look at him, I start to laugh.
“Too bad the same can’t be said for you,” I tease him.
“Fuck off, I look cool.”
I can’t stop laughing, because I hardly recognize my teammate. With the long hair gone, he looks even more menacing, if that’s possible. Especially with that smirk on his face and all his tattoos. People on campus are going to give him an even wider berth than they normally do.
Silas snaps a selfie and taps on his phone.
“Let’s see what my husband thinks.”
Damien’s going to shit his sweats. Then again, this is Coach Banning we’re talking about.
He’s the only one bold enough—crazy enough—to take on our sarcastic D-man.
It’s obvious from their chemistry that they’re a powerful duo, but I personally don’t get the whole marriage or monogamy thing.
I guess it works for them. At least, for now.
No one can convince me that long-term relationships are a real thing.
I hear the telltale beep of a message and Silas quickly taps his phone. His smirk turns to a full-on grin as he shoves the phone into his back pocket.
“I gotta go.”
“What?” I blurt out. “No. We haven’t finished taking photos yet, and you gotta stay for another round of drinks.”
“My husband wants me home.”
“Can’t he wait?”
Silas raises one blond eyebrow. Right.
“Go on, you fucking horndog.”
This time, it’s Silas’s turn to laugh.
“Look who’s talking.”
“Hey, I’m not the one dumping my teammates for a quickie.”
He shakes his head.
“First off, I’m not dumping anyone. We came to fulfill the bet and it’s done. And what do you mean, a quickie?”
His comment is followed by a raspy chuckle, and then a sappy look crosses Silas’s face—the expression he can’t hide when he’s thinking about Damien. Jesus. There are too many loved-up couples on this goddamn hockey team.
“Fine,” I grumble and cross my arms. “You can go.”
“Thanks for your permission, Coach Ethan.”
I rub my chin in a meaningful manner.
“Such a fucking smart ass.”
“That’s right. See, love hasn’t changed me that much.”
“Don’t even start.”
Silas nudges my shoulder. “You might like it.”
“Say what?”
“Love, Ethan. You never know. Someday, some way, it may surprise you out of nowhere. It sure as fuck turned my world upside down.”
“I prefer to stay right-side up if it’s all the same to you,” I scoff. “Look, the only things I love are hockey, my friends, and my family—even though they’re impossibly chaotic. But that’s it. No, wait. I also love parties, and beer, and having sex too.”
“Whatever you say.”
Silas’s tone is smug, and I roll my eyes so hard they’re hurting. He has no idea what he’s talking about.
“You don’t know shit,” I declare. “I’ve fucked a lot of women and not one of them has made me interested in anything else. Not one. Ever.”
Silas shrugs. “I’m not arguing that point, but—”
He pauses and takes a breath, like he’s about to say something else. Instead, he shakes his head.
“But what?” I ask him.
“Just because it hasn’t happened doesn’t mean it won’t. The right person, or persons—”
“No,” I insist. “It won’t.”
“Okay, my friend.” Silas pats my shoulder. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
For real, I’m genuinely confused. And I’m getting a headache from this convo.
The thing is, outside of the physical satisfaction of release, I don’t feel much of anything when I have sex.
It’s good and fun, but I don’t obsess about it.
And there’s definitely no emotions involved.
Feelings make things messy and complicated.
I witnessed all the unnecessary drama that a relationship brings, and I have no desire to repeat my parents’ mistakes.
All I need is casual sex. And once I come, I’m ready to go back to the next thing that catches my eye. My only hyperfixation is hockey. I’ve got a short attention span for anything, or anyone, else.
“But speaking of love,” Silas murmurs and suddenly points to the other side of the room. “It looks like Jett’s about to get over his breakup.”
My head turns around so fast I’m pretty sure I’ve got whiplash.
Sure enough, Jett’s standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall like he’s about to settle in for the night. And worse, Gage is the one he’s about to settle in with.
So much for him being in a rush to get out of here…
Jett sure as fuck hauled ass to get away from you.
I don’t know what I hate more, the fact that Jett’s so obviously at ease with my friend—hell, with anyone who isn’t me—or the idea that they might hook up.
Gage leans in closer, saying something that has Jett’s husky laughter echoing above the din.
The sound does something funny to my insides, and my stomach flips over like it does on game day.
What is happening right now?
And why do I care?
“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud.
“If I were single, exactly what I would do,” Silas admits. “Come on, you can’t blame Gage. Jett’s hot.”
“That’s not the point,” I hiss.
Silas stares at me like I’ve got snot on my face.
“What’s the problem? What happens between them is their business.”
“The guy just broke up with his asshole boyfriend. Gage needs to leave him be.”
“I think you need to relax, maybe lie down? Clearly the head-shaving has affected you and not in a good way.”
“Don’t you have a husband to get back to?”
“But I thought you wanted me to stay?” Silas snarks.
I hear Jett’s laugh again and it makes my already irritable mood sour.
Without pause, I leave my teammate in the kitchen and stomp down the hallway. Every step closer to Jett, the more pissed off I get. He finally drags his attention away from Gage and our eyes lock.
Don’t.
Is that Jett’s warning or mine? I should turn around, ignore him, leave them be. Instead, I keep going, and my mouth, as usual, runs ahead of me.
“I thought you were done here.”
“I was done with you,” Jett counters. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to talk to anyone else.”
“You don’t,” I hit back, the bite in my voice unrecognizable. “Unless of course you’re going to use my friend to get back at your ex?”
“Ean,” Gage warns, but I wave my friend off.
The idea that Gage might hook up with Jett makes me ragey. I can’t explain it, I don’t understand it, but there’s no denying it.
“You really need to mind your own,” Jett states, turning to face me and crossing his arms. “Gage and I were having a private conversation.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Like I said, it’s none of your business,” Jett drawls. “And I don’t know what your fucking problem with me is, but you need to get over it.”
I step closer and meet his glare head-on.
“My problem? You’re the one who acts like I’m beneath you.”
“And you act like everything’s a joke.”
Suddenly I notice that Gage is gone. Jett and I are arguing alone in the hallway. Huh, I didn’t even notice my friend walking away.
“Now I really am leaving,” Jett continues and pushes off the wall.
His eyes are so intense that it’s almost painful for me to look at him.
“And FYI, Gage and I were talking about the queer support group on campus. He volunteers and was asking me if I’d help out at a future event.
I have no desire to get in his pants. And even if I did, it’s nothing to you. ”
Jett turns and starts toward the front door, but despite his tongue-lashing, I can’t help but follow him. I’m pissed and confused and yet I don’t want him to go.
“I’m looking out for him,” I explain. “Any friend would.”
I’m grasping at straws here, but I’ve come this far, and I hate to back down from any argument. Even one that doesn’t make total sense. Since when do I care who my friends fuck around with? I usually mind my own, and it works both ways.
Jett pauses and looks at me over his shoulder.
“He’s a big boy, Ethan. I think he’ll be okay.”
Then he looks away again and starts walking.
“Don’t go.”
I want to grab his shoulders and tell him to turn around.
Look at me, for fuck’s sake!
He pauses again. “Why?”
“Because… because…” I stammer. Why can’t I find my goddamn words? “Can you look at me, please?”
Jett slowly turns around.
Under the dim lights in the hallway, every angle of his taut body is highlighted, and Silas is right: Jett is unquestionably hot. I can’t believe I’m thinking it, never mind noticing every detail, especially the way his jeans mold to his thighs, and the way they cup his…
What the fuck?
I quickly glance up at his face and that’s no better. The sad expression is back, and it hits me right in the gut.
“Don’t go.”
“Alright,” he whispers. “But only if you apologize for acting like an ass.”
Saying sorry is admitting I’m in the wrong. I don’t think I can do it.
“Aren’t you protective of your friends?”
“You can’t do it, can you?” he replies, his lips curling into a knowing grin.
“If I promise not to do it again, will you stay?” That’s my version of apologizing, take it or leave it. “After all, I can’t ruin my reputation for hospitality.”
“I don’t know—”
“Come on, everyone’s staying for another round, and you should too.”
Don’t go.
“Fine. I’ll have one more drink—”
That knot in my stomach finally loosens, but the reprieve is temporary. Jett stalks toward me, and every step closer has my pulse thrumming hard. I swear I see sparks of fire in his green eyes, and I can’t look away.
“As long as it comes with one apology.”
I shake my head.
“It’s going to take more than one drink for me to do that.”