Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Felix
I’m tying up my shoelaces when I sense someone coming toward me. It’s a special skill of mine that nobody understands, not even me. The room is full of people moving around, and yet, without lifting my head, I can tell one of them is on their way to talk to me.
Ugh. Hasn’t my day been bad enough already, without me needing to play nice some more?
I can actually feel myself balancing on the knife edge of my hormones right now—I’m this close to blowing up in someone’s face.
First the meeting with Coach and his little test, then a practice full of my teammates’ ineptitude, then having to sit here while Ari did his presentation-slash-bribe, looking all cool and controlled and fucking sexy as hell.
It’s not fair. How can I want to be him and do him?
There’s gotta be a rule about that shit.
I suck in a breath and prepare to hold on a little longer. That’s been my mantra through this whole puberty thing. I just need to hold on a little longer, and it will end.
Feeling somewhat stable, I look up as the person stops in front of me—and immediately wish I hadn’t.
“Hello, Mr. Ansas,” he says in his sexy I-come-from-another-dimension accent that makes me want to strip naked and offer myself as a sacrifice to his carnal needs.
Not that I think he has any. The man’s always so collected and smooth, even when he was being an ass to me. What would it take to make him crack?
His brows rise, and I flush, realizing I’m sitting here staring at him like a lump. “Just Ansas is fine,” I mumble. “Or Felix.” I’m not sure what makes me add that. My friends and family call me Felix, but he’s neither, and that’s unlikely to change.
He doesn’t say anything else, and the antsy, amped-up tingle of energy under my skin intensifies.
“Can I help you with something?” I prompt, hoping he’ll go away.
I don’t need him in my space, making me feel everything at a higher octane than usual.
What I need right now is to get home to my quiet space and once again try to meditate like Jared taught me.
So far, I’m on a losing streak—or whatever they call it when you fail miserably at even being able to clear your mind.
“Lurlene said she was going to speak with you,” Ari says. “About—”
“Teaching you hockey.” The words come on an agonized breath. No. Nooooo. Why? This isn’t fair. Isn’t it bad enough that he’s going to be hanging around here and that I have to work with him when I’m volunteering? Now I have to spend more time with him too?
Judging by his expression, he knows exactly how I feel and is going through a similar experience. “I can tell her we couldn’t find a mutually agreeable time,” he suggests.
I’m tempted. So, so tempted. If this was still last season, maybe I’d say yes.
But now, more than ever, I need to prove that I’m a team player.
That I can step up and do whatever it takes to help the Warhammers succeed, both on and off the ice.
Coach is watching me, and Lurlene has always been good to me.
I wouldn’t be repaying her kindness if I gave her more work to do.
“No, it’s fine.” I stretch my mouth in what I hope looks like a smile. It doesn’t feel like one. “Do you have time now?” No point in putting this off—I’ll only spend the night dreading it, and meditation definitely won’t work then.
On the other hand, I’m definitely going to need some zen after one-on-one time with Ari.
“I do. Thank you.” He doesn’t look any more enthused than I am. “How… That is, where do we start?”
Great question. I scratch my chest and think about it, then duck as someone’s socks go flying past my head. “Let’s go to the players’ lounge,” I suggest. “It’ll be more comfortable.” And there’s less chance of being hit by stinky hosiery.
Ari steps back so I can stand, then says, “Lead the way. I’m still learning my way around.”
Okay, that’s a good starting point and delaying tactic. “Have you been given a tour of the facilities down here?” I’m sure he’s been shown everything in the corporate office already.
He shakes his head. “No, just the offices.”
Great! “Okay, well… welcome to the dressing room. So named because it’s where we get dressed and undressed.”
“How creative,” he says, deadpan, and I’m not actually sure if he’s making a joke or just has no personality. I make a noise that should work for either scenario.
“Through there,” I point, “is a more traditional locker room where we keep our stuff—wallets, keys, coats in winter, any bags we might have brought with us.” I shrug. “I can show you, but it’s boring as fuck.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” His expression hasn’t changed, and I’m starting to get annoyed. Just a little longer.
“Showers are here,” I lead the way to the showers, mostly because I want to needle him now, and Kircic will still be in there.
He likes to put on a show, so he’s usually the first in and the last out, being as exhibitionist as possible without actually crossing any lines that would get him a meeting with HR.
Being the quirkiest person on a team that’s half hellhounds is a big feat, and Kircic is determined to take that title.
“As you can see, there’s nothing fancy.”
“I’m sure—Oh. Uhhh…”
I turn away to hide my grin. Guess I owe Kircic a thank-you. He normally irritates the shit out of me, but today he’s done me a solid… so to speak.
“The bathrooms are this way. Don’t go down there if you can avoid it,” I warn.
The whole facility has that special kind of ingrained funk that can only come from years of use by professional athletes who put effort into sweating as much as possible, but the bathrooms have their own unique—dare I say, next-level—stench.
It doesn’t matter how extra-strength the bleach is, it doesn’t stand a chance.
Ari glances down the hallway, his nose twitching slightly. Elves don’t have as good a sense of smell as shifters, but the way his mouth sets and his complexion goes a little green tells me it’s good enough. “Thanks for the warning.”
I mentally kick myself. I could have “accidentally” given him the wrong directions and sent him down there. That’s a real missed opportunity.
“Around here”—I lead him to the other side of the dressing room—“is where the ice baths are. There’s also a nook thing where the trainers can work on us, but their main area is off the weight room. And there’s the equipment room. Stay out of it or risk wrath.”
He nods. “Noted.”
Glancing around, I decide there isn’t anything else in here I can show him, not without it becoming obvious that I’m procrastinating. But speaking of procrastination… “Any questions before we move on?”
“About the showers and the locker room? Why don’t I just save all my questions to the end?
” The snide edge to the words makes me seriously regret not giving him the full tour of the bathroom…
and maybe shoving his head in a toilet. My hands itch with the need to form fists, but I flex my fingers and shake them out.
If I could resist decking my idiot teammates during practice, I can keep myself from belting this arrogant ass of an elf.
“Let’s go, then.”
Out in the main hallway, I set a brisk pace, pointing out the coaching offices, the video room, the weight room and trainers’ domain, and the players’ lounge. I hesitate at the door as something occurs to me. “Have you seen the rink?”
“No. Just the offices and this… tour.”
Fuck the lounge, then. I turn around. “This way.”
“I don’t need to see the rink,” he protests from behind me. “It’s not really relevant to what I’ll be doing here.”
I stop dead and spin to face him. Is he fucking serious? “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you here to try to interest more people in hockey?”
He shrugs, and for the first time, I see a hint of awkwardness. “Yes.”
“Then trust me, the rink is relevant to what you’ll be doing. Seeing as it’s where the whole damn game is played.”
Ari doesn’t reply, but his jaw tightens a little, and I take that as a victory.
“Can you skate?” I ask as we continue toward the rink. He doesn’t answer, and I glance over at him. “Ari?”
The second his name touches my lips, I regret it. I don’t say it out loud if I can avoid it, and it tastes strange and forbidden.
And delicious.
My hormones, which have been mostly in check and, more importantly, focused on rage all day, slam my libido to life. I really hope Ari doesn’t glance down, because my dick is so hard, there’s a possibility it’s going to burst through my joggers.
What is wrong with me? It’s just his fucking name!
“No,” he says, and for a split second I think he’s telling me nothing’s ever going to happen between us. Which I know, obviously, and how fucking egotistical is he to assume I even want that? It’s just a boner, right?
Except he’s not talking about that at all, and he hasn’t even noticed my hard-on (which doesn’t offend me, even if my hormones think it should). He’s answering my question: No, he can’t skate.
“You should learn,” I say, my voice a little hoarse. There’s no actual reason why he should learn to skate, but I need a second to pull myself together.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Some of the stuff Erik was talking about doing for this outreach program will take place on the ice. If you’re trying to encourage people to get involved with hockey, shouldn’t you lead by example?”
He stiffens so fast, I look around for danger. “I’ve never claimed to be the leader.” The cold vehemence in his tone has my steps faltering.
“Uh… sure. I mean, I wasn’t saying… I just meant that seeing you take part in the activities you’re promoting would set the tone.
” I’ve obviously hit a nerve, and part of me wants to try to do it again, but I’m still trying to be on my best behavior.
Even if my cock currently is leading the way to the rink.
Hopefully the colder air there will settle things down.
And it does. I stare out across the ice, something inside me unclenching the way it always does when I’m here.
“This is it?”
Annnnd there it goes, clenching right back up again.
“What were you expecting?” I snap.
“No, I wasn’t… I thought there would be more seating.”
Oh. I look up at what passes for the stands. “We don’t get a lot of spectators here. This is only our practice facility. Most people who watch us here are working—press, staff, occasionally an open practice or charitable event or something like that.”
Ari’s frowning. “Oh.”
Dread creeps over me. Lurlene said he didn’t know anything about hockey, but… “Have you ever watched a hockey game? Either our league or the human one?”
For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, “No.”
“Okay, so… what do you know about the sport?”
He shrugs. “You skate around on the ice and use sticks to move the ball.”
My breath stalls in my chest. “That’s… uh.” I turn back to gaze at the ice, unseeing, my brain racing. This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
“Is that wrong?”
I look over at his ridiculously attractive face and wish he had an even slightly better personality. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Is the bad news that I’m wrong?”
“The good news,” I continue, ignoring his question, “is that you got part of that right. The bad news,” I grimace, “is that we’re going to be spending a lot of time together until you understand this game.”