Sin Bin Bully

1. Sam

No hockey game is exactly the same. Each time I come out here, there’s no relying on routine.

You have to be sharp. You have to expect the unexpected at all times. You have to be ready to knock some teeth out at any given moment, whether you’re a left winger like me, or any other position. But especially if you’re me.

I suppose that’s why I love it so much.

I glide along the ice, my eyes skimming the rink, debating my next move. We’re so close to winning, I can practically feel the ice vibrating beneath us.

I block out everything. The crowd, my shouting teammates. The opposing team. The sound of skates on ice. None of that exists to me right now.

“Come on,” I growl to myself.

We’re reaching the end of our first overtime. We’re tied right now, three to three.

It was our game. At fifty-seven minutes, we led three to two. And then their center snuck a shot past us, straight to the back of the net.

I see the play in front of me. A breakout pass. All our left defenseman has to do is pass the puck to me, and I can score the last point for us.

“Come on,” I repeat, more urgently.

Left defenseman Matthew sees it too. I ready myself, all focus trained on this one moment. He glances up at me and I nod. This is it, right here. These next three seconds are everything.

The pass is right in front of him. He has time. But Matthew hesitates.

He fucking hesitates .

“Fuck!” I shout.

The puck is stolen. The pass was practically handed to us, and Matthew didn’t take it. I know he saw it. I know he did.

Pushing past my anger, I refocus, looking for the next opportunity. We have to score now, or we’ll go into another overtime, giving them more time to take the lead.

I won’t let that happen.

I accelerate, moving across the ice with expert precision. My stick feels like an extension of my arm as I reach out with it for the puck.

The opposing defenseman blocks my path, but I don’t give him more than two seconds of my time. My right shoulder sends him skittering as he tries to keep his balance.

“Arrogant piece of shit,” I mutter. If this weren’t such a crucial moment, I’d spend a little extra time on him.

I dash forward, and just inside the faceoff circle, I see my opening. The goalie spots me, but I’m too fast. I quickly drag the puck from the toe of the blade towards me, before sending a snapshot right to the top shelf of the net.

The sound that follows is deafening. Screaming- no, roaring, fills the stadium. My team is celebrating all around me, and I feel several of them shoving me in appreciation.

But unlike them, I’m not ready to celebrate just yet. My eyes are on Matthew, who has enough sense in him to stay away from me. He’s standing near the back of the team, avoiding my gaze.

My hands are shaking in my gloves. I know I should be happy. We’re inching closer and closer to the Stanley Cup, and at this rate, cinching our spot in the Finals in no time.

I slap some of my teammates on the back, momentarily joining in on their fun. I’d be lying if I said this feeling wasn’t usually incredible. But right now, I just can’t enjoy it.

Eventually, we make our way to the locker room, screaming fans on all sides of us. We smile and wave at them, but few of us are actually stopping. After a game, the last thing we want to do is stand around signing shit and taking pictures.

At least, not until we’ve showered.

In the locker room, everyone is quick about cleaning up. I tune into the conversation just as my name is mentioned.

“Isn’t that right, Sam?” Brandon asks.

“What’s that?”

“You rented out Fabiano’s for us again tonight, right?”

“Oh yeah, they’re expecting us. Whole place to ourselves for the night.”

“Great, we’re going to invite the new ice girls to come out with us.”

“New ice girls?” I lift a brow.

“Yeah, we never really gave them a proper welcome. We figured tonight was the night to do it since the next game is an away. We wanna show them how we roll, Washington D.C style.”

I nod, grunting in response. But even at the mention of the latest fresh meat, my mind is elsewhere.

Ten minutes later, the team has left, all making their way to the luxury restaurant that’s become our go-to celebration hangout. I remain in the locker room, packing up the rest of my things.

I’m not slow, I’m just waiting. Just like out on the ice, I’m scoping out the best opportunity. And it’s just arrived.

Matthew walks into the room, using a towel to dry off his hair. As soon as he spots me, he freezes. I grin, closing the distance between us in just a few strides.

My hand closes around his neck, which I use to slam him into the lockers behind him. I squeeze slightly, watching the veins in his neck pop out.

“You fucked with our game, newbie,” I spit out. “That comes with consequences.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chokes out.

His hands grip mine, trying to pry them off. I let him go, only to shove him back against the lockers. When he moves his head forward, I push it back, letting it slam into the blue metal door.

“What the fuck!” he shouts.

I spit directly in his face.

“Mess with our fucking game again, and I’ll be doing a lot worse. I know you saw the pass. Why’d you fucking hesitate?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t-”

“Save it. I know what I saw.” I lean in, lowering my voice as I speak into his ear. “Do it again, I dare you. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, I let him go, grabbing my bag as I walk out of the locker room. At last, I can go celebrate with the rest of the team.

Because that snapshot I made? It was fucking beautiful.

“Here he fucking is! The man of the hour!” Derek’s voice booms throughout the room as I walk in. “Sam motherfucking Warwick, scoring the snapshot of the season!”

I grin, waving them off as I take my seat at the table. A drink is set down in front of me immediately, the sound of the ice hitting the sides of the glass like music to my ears. I pick it up and gulp it down before turning to the rest of my team.

“We should’ve never let them send us into overtime. Their defensemen are benders for god’s sake.”

Derek nods his agreement. “Hey, we can discuss that at our next practice. For tonight, we ride out this high. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling it.”

A few of the men cheer, and a fresh glass is set down in front of me just as they all lift theirs for a toast.

“Welcome ladies, glad you could make it,” Mark, our goalie, says.

I look to where his attention is focused, my eyes skimming a group of women standing at the end of our table. They look like the typical group. Petite, basic, the same soulless look in their eyes.

I’m about to dismiss them as nothing but quick fucks, until my eyes land on her. She has the most angelic face I’ve ever seen. Rich brown skin, big brown doe eyes. Full lips that are just begging to be used and abused. This Black girl is absolutely drop dead gorgeous…and going to be worth every second I want to spend on her.

She stands out not just because of her beauty, but her aura. It’s unlike the others, who are just carbon copies of every girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She seems… aware.

My eyes trail down to the rest of her, noting the slim waist and wider hips. Breasts that sit high on her chest, almost bursting out of her tight black dress. My mouth waters just looking at them.

She meets my gaze, before quickly averting her eyes. I feel one corner of my mouth twitch.

This should be fun.