2. Hunter
2
Hunter
I was getting old. I wasn’t the oldest player by any means, but doing this for over ten years had my body starting to feel the effects of it. We just finished playing in Vegas last night and now we have a game in Philly against my old team tomorrow.
It was nine in the morning and our flight took off in a few hours. A few of the guys were heading down to eat breakfast and I tagged along. Being one of the oldest on the team had its perks, the coaches gave us some slack, but I still felt like an outsider sometimes.
It didn’t help that I had been irritated since pre-season started because this team was a hot mess. Our coach and our players were great. We just hadn’t been able to click and we desperately needed to click. Which is why I was coming to breakfast with some of the guys. I was trying to be nice.
The guys were loud as we made it down to the restaurant. Our Captain, Jeff Ravino, shook his head as our goalie talked about some chick he found on Tinder.
“Sometimes I miss being young and only worrying about hockey and who was warming my bed at night,” Cap said.
“Now it’s Facetime with the missus and spawn, shit diapers and whether or not you will get some pussy while you're in town.” I winced at our goalie, Clark, for saying pussy too loud.
“Pretty much,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t think I would be married while playing hockey, but don’t think I would have it any other way.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to say to that since it felt like an impossible task to have a relationship while playing. Being a hockey player was demanding with the long seasons and only getting about two to three months off before having to do it all over again.
“You don’t have a lucky someone waiting for you at home?” Cap asked, as the hostess looked for a table to fit the six of us.
“No, I don’t have time to devote to someone and I don’t think it's fair to ask someone to stick this out with me,” I said, hating this conversation I felt was on repeat for the last few years. “No offense.”
“None taken. It takes a special woman… or person,” he said quickly. “Sorry I didn’t mean…”,
I chuckled. “Cap, it’s fine, you don’t have to freak out about saying women.”
“I just don’t want you to think that this team will…”
“I know,” I said, nodding, looking at a few other players here. “You’re a good man Cap and everyone has been fine.”
He nodded like he wanted to say more but he lifted his menu and started looking it over. I know being bisexual was not common in hockey and while I had been outed by the press, I had learned that I was not going to change who I am for anyone. I hadn’t had any issues with the teams I had been with, but I knew teammates always talked. I swear, men gossip worse than women do sometimes. It also helped that Webber was bisexual too and more men were coming out in every sport.
The waitress came over to take our drinks and our obscene food orders. Poor girl looked overwhelmed, but I don’t think it was just the orders. She kept glancing at our goalie, Clark, and our left-wing, Gomez. I wanted to roll my eyes at her lack of professionalism when she kept touching them.
Clark soaked it up while Gomez looked a little uncomfortable which was odd, usually our younger players reveled in being chased by the puck bunnies. Once she left the guys ragged on Gomez saying he could have dessert before his breakfast and this time I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling.
“Oh, come on, Riggs, you remember what it's like being twenty-two and having every woman shooting their shot,” Webber, our center said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Maybe he doesn’t remember, you know it's been a while for him,” Gomez said with a little smirk.
I wanted to get up and wipe that damn smirk off his face.
Ever since the coach put us on the same offensive line, we had been butting heads. He had been playing like shit and he knew it, the team knew it, but no one wanted to tell him he was our weak link.
“It still happens, little boy,” I said, taunting him because out of everyone, he was the one who got on my nerves the most.
“Sure, grandpa, we all know your time is running out so you might as well soak in the few puck bunnies who give you attention,” he clipped.
Gomez and I stared at each other, I could see the fire he was lacking from last night's game shining in his eyes. I had heard he was a talented player, but since the pre-season he had yet to impress me. A few lucky goals didn’t mean shit.
“Better soak in the hockey life because playing like you have been for the last few games, it might not last long,” I said with a glare.
“At least I have room to grow, it looks like you might be washed up and…”
I stood up immediately, ready to put him in his damn place as he stood up too. We were evenly sized, even if I was a little broader.
“Guys.” Captain also stood up, eyeing us.
“You need to start getting along or else this team won’t work,” Webber said with an annoyed huff. “We all need to work together, so you need to pull your head out of your asses so our offensive line can work. We could be fucking great.”
I glared at Webber, hating that he was playing Switzerland because he knew Gomez wasn’t pulling his weight.
Gomez and I glared at each other, neither of us willing to back down.
“Who had the steak and eggs?” The waitress broke the tension looking at us with wary eyes.
“That would be me,” Clark said, winking at her, breaking more of the tension.
We sat down at the same time, not taking our eyes off each other until the waitress set down his food. This little shit thought he could intimidate me, but when he looked up at me, he smirked with that stupid adorable dimple. You’d have to be blind not to realize he was a good-looking man. That was the worst part of arguing with this kid, he was distracting and damn him for being so fucking good looking. He would look great on his knees too.
It was the third period with ten minutes left, and we were down by two. I was skating as fast as I could, chasing the puck, as we had an advantage. I hit it to Webber as I came around the net, he passed it to Gomez, and I was completely open. I had a clear shot and he panicked as he passed it to me, and overshot it.
Philly got the puck, shot it down the rink and before we knew it, they had scored again. I was fuming as we did a line change and it took everything I had not to say something to Gomez. I chugged some water, watching Philly take control of the puck again and again, antsy to get back out there again.
“Riggs, Webber and Gomez.” Coach called out our names and I was waiting for the others to return. As soon as they got close, I took off, seeing a perfect opportunity to take the puck, hoping one of these fuckers saw what I was doing. I stole the puck, almost slamming into another player, when I saw Webber open and flicked it his way.
Two guys were on me as I skated to Webber who passed it to Gomez and it was like I saw the hit in slow motion. He got knocked back so hard, he ended up on his back. Webber was closer than I was, pushing the guys back and Gomez didn’t get up right away.
“What the fuck was that?” I yelled, recognizing a guy as Trevor, one of the defensive players on my old team.
“He’s just being a pussy,” he said, and I saw Gomez launch himself at Trevor.
He got a hit in, knocking Trevor’s helmet off and they went at it, but Gomez was throwing punches like his life depended on it. I saw the other defenseman coming close and I shook my head at him, but secretly hoped he started shit so I could get in on it. I was in a shit mood and I could use an outlet.
The refs pulled Gomez and Trevor away, who had a busted lip. They were both sent to the penalty box and even though I was still irritated with Gomez, I clapped his back, respecting his throwdown. He shrugged me off, not even looking at me. The urge to say something was at the tip of my tongue but I swallowed it down.
The rest of the game was awful, and we didn't score again. Someone pushed me into the boards right before the game ended, making my shoulder ache. I was pissed off at our lack of cohesiveness as I yanked my helmet off. I thought by now we would have gotten a little better instead of floundering around like we were all rookies.
I needed food, but the trainer pulled me aside to sit in an ice bath. I knew it was good for me, but I fucking hated sitting in an ice bath. I saw the trainers inspecting Gomez. His back was bruising badly; the sight of it made me wince, knowing he was going to feel that tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, I sat in the ice as I heard a groan.
Gomez's face was red as the doctor moved his arm around. They spoke for a few minutes before they sent him to sit in the ice bath next to me. He had a scowl on his face as he sat down. I wanted to ask him how he was feeling when he growled, “Not tonight, Riggs, I don’t need your bullshit tonight.”
I scowled. I was going to be nice but screw him.
“Well… too bad because you played like fucking shit,” I snapped, getting up as the trainer came over, giving me a disapproving look.
“Fuck you, Riggs. You don’t play perfect, so get off that high horse and fucking come down to reality,” he growled, looking down my body like he was checking me out.
“I like it better up here where I can look down on you,” I clipped with a smirk, as he realized I caught him checking me out or at least I thought he was because I was pretty fucking sure Gomez was straight.
“Fuck you,” he snarled, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“Nah, you're not my type,” I said, grabbing my towel, seeing his cheeks turn pink.
He glared at me before leaning back and closing his eyes again. I don’t know why we were always at each other's throats. Now that I had caught him checking me out, a part of me wanted to see him do it again even though I really didn’t fucking like him.