Chapter 8 Jay
JAY
When we skated out onto the ice, music blasting from the speakers, my gaze should have been focused on the upcoming game.
On my teammates. My coach. Anything but Nova fucking Thorpe, seated in the first row of the stands, right in my line of vision.
Her blonde hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders, her lips curving into a tiny smile as she tracked the movements of her brother.
She was beautiful. I couldn’t fucking focus on anything else.
“You got her in your jersey before the engagement’s locked in? Nice.”
“It was a done deal two years ago. The engagement is just a formality.”
I gritted my teeth as Volkov and Wells skated past me, my gaze dropping from Nova’s face to the jersey she was wearing. I couldn’t see the back, but I could see the number on the sleeve.
Thirty. Anton Volkov’s number. She was branded as his, and I—
It didn’t matter to me.
“Jay! Focus!”
Shit. I’d fallen behind. Nodding to acknowledge Ryker, I took my place on the ice, lining up with the rest of the team opposite the Southampton players. It was time to get my head in the game.
When the puck dropped, it was as if a switch flipped.
Nothing else mattered. Nothing but my skates gliding across the ice and my stick connecting with the puck.
I deked around the Southampton player coming at me, grinning as Ryker feinted a pass in my direction.
It was something we’d been working on, and he took advantage of Southampton’s momentary confusion to pass to Dan, who was ready and waiting to smash it straight into the net.
“Goal by number eighteen, Daniel Hoyton, assisted by number twenty-three, Ryker Thorpe!” the announcer boomed as I slapped Dan’s back, grinning as he fist-pumped the air.
Things soured in the sixteenth minute when Southampton scored, and Volkov and Worthington ended up in altercations with the opposing team. Worthy ended up in the sin bin with a two-minute penalty, and Southampton had the power play. We managed to stop them from scoring, but it was close.
“Volkov. Worthington. You act like that one more time, and I will bench you both,” Coach Lazovsky boomed, pacing up and down the locker room during the intermission between the first and second period.
He whirled around, swinging out his clipboard to encompass us all.
“You are a team. Act like a fucking team. Use the yard to work your shit out. Go for couples counselling. I don’t fucking care.
You don’t bring that shit to the game. Am I clear? ”
Part of me took pleasure in Volkov’s chastisement, but it didn’t seem to even affect him. He simply nodded. “We will do better,” he said, shooting Kane a warning glance, who gave a sharp nod back.
Somehow, we made it through the second two periods without any more penalties, scraping a narrow win with a rebound shot from Kane.
As soon as the buzzer sounded to signal the end of the game, Volkov skated over to the side of the rink towards the place where Nova was waiting.
Beautiful, untouchable Nova. Gritting my teeth, I turned away, skating in a zigzag across the rink.
Anything to waste time so I didn’t have to be confronted by things I could never forget.
“Jay! You getting off the ice anytime soon? I wanna be out of here before bellend Bellingham appears. I know he’s been watching us.” Dan appeared in front of me, helmet and stick dangling from his hand, his sweaty hair plastered to his head.
“Yeah. Coming.” I kept my eyes fixed on his back as I followed him off the ice.
Or I tried to, but the masochistic side of me couldn’t help my gaze from sliding to Volkov and Nova.
He’d taken his goalie mask off, but unlike Dan, his dark blond hair wasn’t plastered to his head.
No, it was artfully tousled, gleaming under the lights.
As I watched, unable to look away, he placed his hand at Nova’s waist and then dipped down to brush a kiss over her lips.
Slam.
“Attwood! Watch where you’re fucking going!”
I pulled myself upright, rubbing at my chest, where I’d apparently collided with my teammate Toby Wells’s shoulder. “Sorry, mate. I was—” Cutting myself off with a shrug, I sighed. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s not like you to be blind to your surroundings. We—” His eyes widened as he glanced over my shoulder. “Fuck. Hoyts. Sort him out before Coach sees.”
Following the direction of his gaze, I groaned, getting off the ice as fast as I could so I could get in between Dan and his personal nemesis, Lincoln Bellingham. They both completely ignored my approach, too caught up in trading insults.
“Back to your little prison masquerading as a uni after this, are you?” Bellingham got all up in Dan’s face, a mocking sneer curving over his lips. “I’ll think of you, shivering in your single bed, while I’m stretched out in my comfy king-size bed with a woman or two.”
“Here watching me for tips, were you?” Dan shot back. “Maybe you should’ve stuck to lacrosse instead of hockey. Then again, neither of those sports have managed to teach you how to use your stick. I feel sorry for any woman that ends up in your bed.”
“At least I can get women.”
“At least I don’t think of you while I’m in my bed with those women. You’re fucking obsessed with me.”
“You fucking wish,” Bellingham snarled. “You’re the one stalking me.”
“You came to my fucking game!”
“It’s the Whelford rink. It belongs to us.”
“Daniel!” I shoved at Dan’s arm, and he stumbled, his head whipping around.
He blinked rapidly, seeming to realise where we were, mouthing, Shit, as he took a step back from a now smirking Bellingham.
Ripping off my glove, I gave Bellingham the finger as we made our way towards the locker rooms. Fucking pretentious asshole.
Yes, we had to share the rink with his university, and no, none of us were happy about it.
It wasn’t as if we could change that fact.
Our universities were both too small to separately support that kind of infrastructure, despite no lack of money between us.
Technically, I was supposed to remain neutral around Bellingham, only because several of his mother’s friends were clients of my family’s clinic, but he made it difficult.
Very difficult. At least him being here to taunt Dan had taken my mind off the way Volkov’s hand had spanned Nova’s waist, his mouth connecting with the softest fucking lips I’d ever kissed, his—
Enough. Fucking enough.
“Jay. You wanna play Fortnite?” Neo held up a controller, and I nodded, throwing myself down on the sofa next to him. He shifted over, his thigh pressing against our housemate Toby, who grinned at him.
“Tryna get close to me, Clayts?”
“Yeah. Always.” Neo punched him in the bicep. “Can’t get enough.”
Eyeing the two TV screens mounted next to each other on the wall, I pushed the joypad. Okay. My screen was the one on the left. I thumbed the controller, navigating to the lobby as Toby did the same on our second PlayStation.
“You two have a strange relationship.”
“Who two?” Dan swiped the free controller from the coffee table and then sat down on top of it. The wood creaked under his weight. “I’m playing.”
“Who do you think?” I jerked my head at Neo and Toby.
“Clayts and Wellsy? Yeah. Best friends who share everything. Even women, or so I’ve heard. C’mon, who’s gonna spill the beans?”
Neo rolled his eyes. “Are we playing, or not?”
“So the rumour is true.” Dan nodded. “Thought so.”
Neo passed his controller to Toby and then leaned forwards, shoving Dan’s shoulders. He went sprawling to the floor with a cry.
“Stop laughing,” he growled, pulling himself upright. “You’re all wankers.”
I ducked my head, hiding my mouth behind my palm in an attempt to hide my amusement. “Sorry, mate, but you had that coming. Just like you did with Bellingham earlier.”
He glared at me. “Don’t speak to me about that wanker.”
Holding up my hands, I attempted to get my laughter under control.
Moments like this were far too rare. Right now, I could pretend we were just normal uni students hanging out together, with nothing more to worry about other than beating our opponents in a game.
No shady dealings, no potential threats on the horizon, no fucked-up agreements.
Blonde hair filtered into my mind. Soft, pouty lips. Wide grey eyes. My smile dropped. Who was I kidding? I could lose myself in other activities all I wanted, but nothing would stop me from thinking about her.
“King. You there? Ready up.” Neo spoke into his headset, and I forced a grin back onto my face. If I faked it for long enough, maybe I’d believe it myself.
Alone in the privacy of my room, I threw back the curtains. The high prison walls stood just a short distance away from my window, silhouetted against a backdrop of inky skies lit by pale moonlight. Beyond those walls was Nova. Volkov too.
I turned my back to the window, grabbing my bathroom supplies before moving the short distance down the hallway to the bathroom I shared with a few of my teammates.
There were enough bathrooms in the house that we were able to split them, so a maximum of three people shared one bathroom.
A couple of lucky people even got their own en suite.
Locking the door behind me, I turned on the shower, and while I waited for the ancient pipes to heat the water, I got my shaving supplies ready. Dragging the razor over my stubble, I avoided my own gaze. Now I was alone again, my mind was filling with intrusive thoughts.
Fuck this. I needed to relax. To empty my brain.
Under the shower spray, I closed my eyes as I ran my hand down my body.
It had been too fucking long since I’d had someone else’s hands on it.
It was time to change that. Tilting my head back, I purposely imagined long, dark hair.
Curves. Dark eyes meeting mine as she knelt in front of me, mouth open.
Biting back a groan, I slowly stroked my leaking cock, rolling the foreskin back to expose the head. Precum beaded on the tip as the image solidified in my mind.
The woman changed, morphing into someone taller, her hair lightening to a shimmering blonde. Eyes changing from brown to grey.
“I want you,” she whispered, and my hand moved faster, my breath coming in pants as Nova wrapped her lips around my cock.
“Fuck. Fuck.” My cock jerked in my grip, my cum painting the tiles in front of me. I slumped back against the wall, breathing heavily.
I was fucked. I couldn’t even fucking come without thinking about Nova Thorpe.
I had to get over this. Fast.
Because she was about to become engaged to Anton Volkov. And she would never be mine.