Chapter 8 Shark Bait
Chapter Eight
Shark Bait
ELI
Over two hundred pounds of muscle and gear slammed into me.
I hit the boards with a loud grunt and a frustrated “fuck!” The puck—which had been in my possession seconds ago—was now being passed between the opposing team.
Sharpened blades sliced across the ice. The hometown audience groaned loudly.
I didn’t have a chance to pass the puck to Gabe, who had been in a prime position to rush it toward the goal.
My first game with the Bobcats, and I was already fucking it up.
Great.
I half expected to be called back to the bench, swapped with someone else. But Coach didn’t make that move. He left me on the ice. I had to lock in. This game would set the tone for the rest of the season.
We were in the third and final period. The Sharks were up by two against our goose egg.
Not a single fucking goal.
I pushed across the center ice, gliding toward Gabe, who had regained possession of the puck.
He was a force on the ice, like a rumbling storm that crackled with lightning and thunder, overflowing with kinetic energy.
Dylan flanked him, guarding him from an overzealous Shark who tried poking at the puck.
Gabe curved it around him. I glided back, positioning myself for a pass.
I found myself in a position that felt promising.
I had the goalie in sight. I could drive the puck past him; I just needed it in my possession first.
Gabe held on to the puck, smacking it away from a Shark trying to steal it.
Pass it. Pass it. Pass it to me.
He sent it to Chris. But before Chris could take possession, another Shark checked him, sending them both sliding across the ice.
I exploded into action, trying to steal it, but was too slow.
My stick was slapped out of the way. I grunted in frustration.
The opposing team intercepted the puck and immediately brought it across the blue line, driving it toward the net.
Shit, shit, shit—three to zero. They scored. Air horns blasted through the rink, but the crowd wasn’t nearly as loud. Everyone out there wearing Bobcat colors seemed to have the same energy as funeral attendees.
“Did the Bobcats trade a fucking coma patient onto their team?” It was number fifty-four—Viktor Ivanova, the team’s captain and a known instigator—as he skated a smooth circle around me.
I wanted to smack him with my stick. Instead, I settled for something that wouldn’t net me a penalty. “Fuck you.”
“Nah, not into that gay shit.”
My anger boiled hot enough to melt the ice.
He must have done more than just a preliminary search on me, even though it wasn’t too difficult to find an article or two featuring me as one of the few out and proud players in professional hockey.
Most of the people I interacted with were respectful (at least to my face) at the minimum, a lot of guys not giving a fuck about who I chose to date.
But that didn’t mean everyone was cool with me being gay. Hockey was a sport that often attracted hypermasculine men, and those were the ones with the most fragile egos and an even weaker assurance in their own masculinity.
Which meant I knew exactly where to hit. “Why, scared you might like it too much?”
Apparently, Viktor knew exactly where to counter.
“I’m scared I’m going to catch something.”
Red. The curtain that dropped over my vision was a thick, crimson red. To imply that just having gay sex would get him sick was the kind of bullshit that hit hard. I didn’t want to let his words affect me, but they did. Times had gotten better but were nowhere near perfect.
Clearly.
I pushed him. It was a decision made mostly out of bitter anger and maybe should have been reconsidered, sure.
But the fucker deserved more.
He slid back, his blades kicking up a cloud of icy powder. I heard a whistle underneath the pounding of blood in my skull. I could see the same anger I felt reflected back to me in his beady black eyes, pupils dilated underneath the helmet. He exploded forward, and I braced myself for the hit.
A hit that never came.
Gabe had appeared, practically out of nowhere. He looped an arm around the guy’s chest and dragged him back, pinning him against the boards. The impact shook the scratched-up plexiglass. “Don’t fucking touch him.”
“I won’t, I won’t. Shit, sorry, sorry.”
I didn’t have any time to process what had just happened. Another one of the Sharks decided to join the fray, jumping on Gabe’s back.
So I jumped on his.
More whistles. More bodies locking together, fists flying at helmets.
The crowd cheering. Fans wearing our black and blue jerseys filmed from their seats, phones aimed directly at us.
The referees trying to break it up, but the two of them unable to fully control the twelve or so men currently wrestling and fighting on the ice.
They like to fight. Don’t fall for it.
Gabe’s exact words to me yesterday.
So much for that.
The guys were pissed. All of them. The team, the coach, even our general manager—Harrison Glass—had steam rising up out of their ears.
And even though there were five other guys out there on the ice with me, I couldn’t help but feel like tonight’s embarrassing loss fell squarely on my shoulders.
“What the absolute fuck was that out there?” Coach Julian shouted. He had taken off his suit, the white undershirt soaked in sweat. A vein bulged and snaked over his temple. “Seriously? Anyone? A three-to-zero loss, first game—first home game—of the season.”
“It was an upsetting loss,” Emmy said. He had a towel wrapped around his neck, and he held on to each end. “I think we can all agree we shouldn’t have fought with them, either, Coach. I think we made a lot of offensive mistakes and also slacked on the defense after that first period.”
“I fully fucking agree. Anyone want to add anything else?”
Harrison put a hand on Coach Julian’s shoulder.
He still wore his suit and looked the most composed out of everyone in the room.
I’d only spoken to him a couple of times since I’d been traded.
He had an intimidating presence that was made even more intense by the crooked scar that ran across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose.
“I think everyone needs to control themselves tonight. Emotions are high. I’m not happy, either, but I also recognize this is the first game of the season.
There is plenty of time to course correct.
We can look over the footage tomorrow and discuss some options. ”
Harrison’s icy blue eyes settled on me for a moment before looking around the room.
My gut twisted itself into a knot. He likely wanted to keep me benched.
I had one shot to prove myself, and I messed it up.
I had taken multiple missed shots at the goal, I’d been intercepted more times than typical for me, and, maybe the worst of all, I’d been the instigator to that fight.
Such a stupid fuckup.
It was like a broken record playing in my head, over and over again.
Sometimes these kinds of thoughts got stuck in a loop, and it was difficult to break free from them.
I took a few deep breaths and leaned back against the cool steel of the locker.
Gabe, standing across the room from me, gave me a concerned look.
Was it that obvious that I was a little shaken up?
I focused on making sure my inner thoughts didn’t reflect on my outward expression, keeping neutral and focusing on Harrison.
“Next game is against Raleigh,” he said loudly so that his voice echoed through the locker room.
“I want you all to leave here tonight envisioning a win. And tomorrow, I want you back here training so that you can fight for that win. We will make the playoffs. We will come out on top.” There was a heavy pause.
His eyes scanned the room, as if searching for something.
“I don’t care who we have to cut off at the knees to get there. ”
A few of the guys straightened. Shared looks. Nerves?
The controlled exterior cracked as we all saw the ruthless engine that fueled him.
There was a reason why the Bobcats were constantly making the playoffs year after year.
He worked his team like it was a chemistry equation, each guy a different variable he could tweak or trade.
He had a reputation in the league for cutting guys midseason, with very little warning.
The stakes were high. I had to make sure I improved, that I kept my cool. I didn’t want to be the new guy who couldn’t even make it through an entire season. I also didn’t want to let the team down.
No. I had to get it together.
Such a fuckup.
“Alright,” Coach said. “Just finish up in here and get the hell to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
Bed. Interesting. I glanced over to Gabe, who had already changed into a clean pair of black Nike shorts and a white tank top.
He was talking to Dylan and Emmy, appearing pretty animated but voice low.
I may have forgotten the advice he’d given me about not starting fights, but I certainly didn’t forget about that bet we had made.
A loss meant I’d be licking my wounds over in Gabe’s hot tub.
That wouldn’t be a terrible way of getting over such a shitty night.
Plus, there was that moment on the ice I wanted to ask him about. How he protected me without even blinking an eye. At the very least, I had to thank him for that.
And I had a couple of ideas on how I could show him my gratitude.
Was hooking up with him entirely irrational and possibly not the smartest idea I’ve ever had?
…Sure.
But I couldn’t deny that, one, Gabe was incredibly hot and intriguing, and we both liked the same things, and two—maybe most important of all—I was just horny, and I was ready to sleep with someone again.
I was a twenty-seven-year-old man at the prime of his life who’d had his heart broken after making it through a pretty fucked-up long-term relationship.
It was time I thought of myself and ignored the consequences until later.
Gabe’s clear interest in me only helped embolden the choice to have a wild and guilt-free night with him.
Maybe losing wasn’t exactly that bad.
I pulled on my sneakers, shut my locker, threw on my duffel bag, and looked to find Gabe.
He had his back to me and was still locked in that conversation, except it seemed to have gotten more intense, and now Chris and Soren had joined the group.
I didn’t want to interrupt or look like I was eavesdropping.
The rest of the guys were beginning to filter out of the locker room.
I decided to join the flow, walking out into the wide hallway, lit by a row of bright white fluorescent lights.
I said bye to a couple of the guys and slowed down to a stop, leaning against the wall and casually scrolling through my phone, waiting for Gabe to finish up.
I made the mistake of scrolling past a couple of photos of some hot guys, ramping up the hunger that was flowing through me right now, the heat that grew more intense as my thoughts grew dirtier and my briefs grew tighter.
Gabe on his back. Me on his lap. His biceps flexed. His hairy chest flushed. His cock pushing inside me. My toes curling and my heart racing and my hand stroking and my lips crashing against his and my nose filled with that intoxicating scent of his and—
The door to the locker room opened, and out walked the remaining guys, Gabe leading the pack. “Eli, shit, I’m sorry. You been waiting long?” he asked me, waving the other guys to go ahead. Dylan gave us a curious look as he said good night and walked away with Soren, Chris, and Emmy.
“No, not really. Wasn’t sure if I should wait, but figured that we had a bet to settle.”
Gabe’s hand went to the back of his neck, and his ocean-blue eyes dropped down to the floor. Immediately, I could sense something was off.
“Shit, Eli, listen, about that.”
I winced, already knowing what was coming.
“Something’s come up. I’ve got to rain check it.
” He looked over my shoulder, likely checking to see if we were alone.
“But trust me, I want you to come over. I want to spend a night with you.” He reached for my hand, and part of me wanted to give it to him, but a much louder part of me had me stuff it in the pocket of my shorts.
This was already messy. This was already a disappointment. I couldn’t handle any more of that. And a hand hold would feel far too intimate. It was something my ex would hold over my head as a sort of “treat.”
“It’s okay,” I said, smiling even though I was gritting my teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow for practice.”
“I’m sorry, Eli. Truly.”
“It’s alright. I knew I never should have gambled in the first place. I’ve got too many vices already.”
I walked away, hiding a wince.
Vices? Jesus Christ, since when do I say that?