Chapter 13
Nash
The sunlight breaks through the curtains, and for a fleeting moment, I cling to the blissful ignorance of the morning, cocooned in warmth.
But the sharp pang of realization hits me, and I bolt upright, panic surging through my veins.
I glance around, and the memories of last night flood back, igniting a flush of heat across my skin—both exhilarating and terrifying.
Kissing Leo.
Showering with Leo.
Having sex with Leo.
I find myself in an unfamiliar bed, the sheets tangled around my legs like a cocoon.
It’s all too much to process at once. I’m naked, my body slick with remnants of what I can hardly wrap my mind around.
Next to me lies Leo, equally bare and seemingly serene in sleep, his features softened by the light streaming in from the window.
A heartbeat of tension coils inside me, squeezing tight as the events of the previous night come crashing back.
Kissing. Touching. Laughter. I feel a flush spread across my cheeks as flashes of us entwined in shared intimacy fill my mind.
Desires awakened amidst the alcohol and tension that’s hung between us for what feels like forever.
The warmth of his body against mine; the way we melted into one another—it all feels surreal now, too good to be true, and yet terrifyingly real.
What have we done?
A surge of panic rushes through me. I need to escape—escape this bed, this situation.
I carefully extract myself from the warm sheets, shifting with caution as I glance at Leo, my heart pounding as I make my move.
I slip quietly from the bed and pad towards the bathroom, every soft footfall echoing the urgency thrumming in my chest.
The cold tiles shock my bare feet as I step into the shower, the water hitting me like a cascade of clarity.
I press my hands against the cool tiles, letting the stream wash over me, a desperate attempt to rinse away both the physical reminders of last night and the tangled mess of feelings coiling in my gut.
My breath quickens, and I’m drowning in the weight of uncertainty; guilt lingers like fog, clouding my thoughts.
What does this mean for us? I grip the soap in my hands, letting it slip between my fingers as thoughts spin out of control.
I cannot ignore what’s happened, how this night has altered everything between us.
There’s a tantalizing thrill that pulls at me, but along with it is the choking fear of what would happen if anyone found out—if the team ever discovered that Leo and I crossed that line.
Once cleaned and mildly steadied, I step out of the shower, the steam swirling around me. The towel wraps around my body as I gingerly make my way back to the main room, half hoping to find the bed empty, half fearful of the sight that awaits.
Leo sits stiffly at the desk, his back to me, staring intently at something on his laptop. He doesn’t turn as I enter, and there’s a moment of tension thickening the air.
“Hey,” I offer, my voice surprisingly soft, as if afraid to shatter the silence that buzzes with electricity.
“Hey,” he replies, but it’s a clipped response, and I can sense the awkwardness suffusing the room.
I try to focus on anything but the storm raging inside, settling instead into a fragile calm. “So…” I start, searching for something—anything—to bridge the chasm of silence. But it feels as if the words are stuck in my throat.
“You know we can’t let anyone know about this, right?” Leo says abruptly, breaking through my thoughts. His tone is direct, blunt, and somehow grounded. It pulls me out of my spiraling mind, and I can feel my heart racing.
“Yeah,” I murmur, the breathless agreement hanging between us, filling the silence that follows. I feel an urge to draw further into this conversation, to figure out what this means for us.
“It was just the alcohol,” I state, trying to convince myself even as the implications of last night twist in my gut. “And the tension.”
“Right.” He meets my gaze, his expression a careful mask, but I can see the hint of conflict beneath it. “We need to stay strictly professional. For the team.”
“Agreed,” I say, a weight settling in my chest, thickening the air. I look away, not wanting to see the mirrored thoughts that must be racing through his mind.
“We’ll never speak of this again,” Leo adds, a note of finality in his voice. And it’s as if he’s drawn a line in the sand, and part of me wants to cross it, wants to feel the thrill that lingers beneath the surface, but another part understands—understands the risks involved.
“Deal,” I say, though the weight of the promise hangs heavily in the air. The pact feels like both a relief and a crushing blow, our laughter and shared warmth suddenly dulled by the harsh light of reality.
***
The pre-game buzz electrifies the air, but beneath it all, my thoughts flutter back to last night, twisting my focus as I lace up my skates.
Leo’s cocky smile invades my mind, a reminder of what we’ve shared.
The energy builds around me, but every flicker of camaraderie threatens to unravel the secret tether tying us together.
As I pull on my jersey, the fabric feels heavier today, imbued with unspoken emotions that hum beneath my skin. I catch Leo across the locker room, and I steal a glance.
I hear the guys laughing and watch as Jack high-fives Leo, while telling him he’s the man.
“Yeah, her tits were fucking amazing,” Leo roars out, and more of the guys laugh and begin sharing their own elicit stories.
My heart sinks in my chest and my stomach churns. I know that what Leo’s saying is more than likely a lie. I mean, I’m sure he’s fucked women, but he’s talking like this is something that happened last night.
Most of the guys on the team are either married or have puck bunnies in every city. My closest friends on the team are Jack and Sean. And I guess, Leo, too.
“I bet they were fake,” Marcus jokes, holding out his arms like he’s cupping boobs. These guys are like horny, immature teenagers sometimes.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Leo says.
“Hey, Nash. You get laid?” Dylan Peterson calls out to me. Out of the guys on the team, Dylan is one of the most annoying. He’s loud and obnoxious.
“Shut up,”I yell, but they ignore me.
“Aww Nash is our little virgin baby. He never kisses and tells,” Dylan cackles.
Leo laughs, too,and then starts heading my way.
I try to busy myself digging through my bag.
“You ready for this, Nash?” Leo’s voice snaps me back to the present, a taunting grin on his lips as he takes a step closer. “Or are you still recovering from that ‘alcohol’?”
When I don’t say anything, he gives me a strange glance. “What’s wrong?”
“What was that back there?” I whisper.
Understanding shows on his face. He sits on the bench next to me, checking his skates. “That was just guy talk. You gotta join in or they start to ask questions.”
I know what he’s saying. You have to pretend to be straight in a room filled with straight guys or they might start to make assumptions. I let my own emotions go.
“So, you need any help with your blocking skills?” he teases.
“Shut up,” I respond, unable to keep a smile off my face. “It was one shot that got past me.”
“Right,” he laughs, and in that moment, the weight of everything feels lighter, laughter rising to cut through the tension between us.
Our teammates bustle around us, excited and energized, yet I feel strangely disconnected.
The chaos enveloping us blends into a familiar rhythm, but my focus remains anchored on the flickers of Leo’s presence as we navigate through our pre-game routine.
There’s an adrenaline-fueled anticipation thickening the air.
As we board the bus, the chatter bounces against the walls, but my thoughts spiral back to last night—the intimacy shared, the secret pact solidified.
I sit in the middle of the bus as we leave the hotel and head to the arena, the familiar sound of the engine humming beneath us, as teammates share laughs and banter.
But my thoughts turn inward, drawn to the weight of the pact Leo and I forged—the reality of what we’ve done, yet still fighting to keep our connection at bay.
Every brush of his knee against mine sends a jolt through me, and every stolen glance feels like a spark, reigniting those unacknowledged feelings.
As we arrive at the arena, the energy shifts—electric and intoxicating, echoing through the corridors as we gear up for warm-ups.
I glide onto the ice, and the coolness rushes over me, heightening my senses, sparking something fierce.
I glance over at Leo as he skates effortlessly, confidence radiating off him like a beacon, and I can’t help but admire the way he moves, making everything else fade away.
The crowd goes wild as the teams are announced.
I see women holding signs plastered to the glass, proclaiming their love for us.
Some hold signs asking Leo to marry them.
I even see one where a woman wrote in red glitter- Nash, have my babies.
We all smile and wave to the fans, enjoying their love and support. A lot of the guys will hook-up with some of those ladies after the game, but not me.
Leo takes his position in front of me, and we prepare for a drill, the chaos of warm-ups swirling around us like a living thing.
It’s more than just a game; it’s a test of every nerve ending, of every emotion coiling within me.
As he whips past me, the puck gliding along his stick, I find myself anticipating his every move, drawn in by the rhythm of his energy.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he challenges, and I feel a rush of excitement course through me.
The game unfolds, and with each play, we discover a unique synergy building between us, a trust that transcends the silence of our earlier pact.
It’s intoxicating, driving the momentum forward, an intricate dance between rivalry and something more profound.
From my position in front of the net, I watch as Leo glides over the ice, a huge smile playing over his face. He has a breakout and soars past the other team, scoring.
Another opponent breaks away from our defense and sends the puck flying toward me. Stretching out, I block the puck and end the game with us winning 2-1.
Leo skates over to me, lifting his helmet so I can see his face clearly. “Great block,” he winks.
The rest of the team joins us, celebrating our win. I’m pulled into the commotion, and Leo throws his arm around me.
“When we get back to town, I want you to come to my apartment,” Leo offers, as he skates off the ice and heads toward the locker room.
I stay back, shocked, but excited.