Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ferris
“You seem more worked up than usual. You good, bruh?”
I could barely hear the sound of Cosmo’s voice over my music. My pregame playlist was eclectic—not really loud, but the volume enough to drown out the din of locker room chatter. Most people didn’t talk to me during my pregame ritual because I didn’t speak to them.
It began with not being able to—the anxiety wrapping around my vocal cords and making me go nonverbal. Then, as I relaxed, not speaking became a habit. And then a pregame superstition.
Once—and only once—I had one two-word conversation before a game, and we lost with the worst score we’d had all season.
I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
I looked up at Cosmo briefly, but I could tell he wasn’t expecting a real answer.
He was busy tightening the laces of his skates.
Everyone had their own routines. I didn’t pay close attention to anyone else but myself.
I was already strapped tightly in my gear.
The only thing left was my gloves, but I wouldn’t pick those up until I was ready to hit the ice and skate to the net.
For now, I let my fingers curl around the yarn and hook as I worked my way through a chubby little panda.
It helped keep my mind focused and present because otherwise, it was going to be elsewhere.
It was going to be back with Quinn in that hotel room.
It was going to remember a little too well what it felt like to have his warm hands on me and his tongue in my mouth. And his dick in my ass.
I’d spent way too long staring in the mirror, trying to see if he was wrong. To see if I looked any different now that I wasn’t a virgin, but I didn’t. Hell, I didn’t even really feel different. The only change was that I now knew what it was like to orgasm from someone else.
It was better than doing it by myself, of course, but part of that was probably because it was Quinn.
He’d spent all evening studying me, and by the time he kissed me, he seemed to know exactly what I wanted before I even asked for it.
He played every single inch of me like I was his perfect instrument.
He knew where to touch and how. He knew where to kiss and where to bite.
He knew the perfect angle to make me see stars.
Walking away had been the smart choice. It was the only choice, really. But it also felt like the worst one too.
“Come on, bud. That’s our cue.” Cosmo elbowed me gently, so I reached up and dropped my headphones on the bench, along with the ball of yarn, hook, and nearly done panda. It would be waiting for me when I got back.
The walk to the ice was long, but I was used to it.
The hardest part about hockey had always been keeping my balance on my skates when I was off the ice.
I kept close to Colt and Matty in case I felt like I was going to fall, but before long, the surface beneath me was slick and forgiving.
I skated several circles, warming my body up to the sounds of the arena playlist.
The stands weren’t very full. They never filled up unless we were playing Boston College. Any Green Line game was packed. Those games were more fighting than trying to get a shot on goal, and usually, half the guys on each team spent more time in the sin bin than they did in gameplay.
The fights always extended to the stands too—people drinking too much and mouthing off and getting all riled up. And for what?
I never did understand it. But then again, my place had always been apart from everyone else. I loved being a goalie, but it was hard at times. Lonely more often than not. Isolated. I was never part of the strategy except to protect the goal and stop the puck. The guys were protective of me though.
They wore murder on their faces and watched me like a hawk.
I got hit a lot—that was the risk of being in the net and having people come flying at me at top speed, but it was rare when the hit was deliberate.
And there was always retribution when that happened.
Luckily, tonight, we were playing Northeastern. The visitors’ stands were almost completely empty, and I was willing to bet less than a hundred people were on our side. It was a Tuesday, after all. And a little too close to midterms for anyone’s comfort.
I didn’t mind the quiet.
Warm-ups seemed to last forever, but it wasn’t long before I was skating over to the net.
My stick felt weak in my grip, and my glove was ill-fitting.
Or…was that just me? Was I just distracted?
I couldn’t let this fuck me up. I had a whole life to live, and I couldn’t sleep on this team just because I’d signed a contract with the Bruins.
I was a rookie. I had so far to go to prove myself.
The memory of Quinn needed to live in the shadows for a while.
I crouched low when Cosmo skated up for the face-off. I saw his back moving with his deep breath. I saw the ref staring at them both.
And then the puck dropped, and my entire focus became one thing, and one thing only.
Don’t let anything get past me.
We’d won with a shutout, and it was worth it. But it had come at a cost.
“Whoa. Dude.”
I knew exactly what Myles was referencing. I’d taken a stick to the face, the edge of it slipping just under my mask and getting me right in the jaw. It hadn’t been on purpose, so my team didn’t kill anyone, but it was painful, and eating sucked.
“Game last night,” I muttered.
Myles grimaced and reached over, giving me a gentle, quick pat on the arm. “Sorry, man. That’s horrible.”
It really was horrible, and I appreciated the sympathy. And I appreciated the company. I liked Myles a lot.
I’d met him weeks ago at a party. He’d been hanging around Colton, and I didn’t entirely know what to make of their relationship, but I was also afraid to ask. They seemed to hate each other, but also, Colton looked at him a lot like the way Quinn had looked at me, so…
And if Colton did like Myles, I could see why. He was gorgeous, and he was kind. There weren’t a lot of guys on campus like Myles.
If anyone were to ask me, I’d say he was a weird fit for Colton, but Colton needed a guy like Myles to mellow him out. He’d been a lot less antagonistic over the last few weeks, which I appreciated.
“Did you win?”
“Uh…” I set down my book next to my untouched plate of crêpes and met his gaze for a quick second. “Yeah. We won. Shutout.”
“That’s good, right?”
I shrugged. “The other team didn’t score against us.” The game itself was fairly pointless. Playoffs were a while away, but we always made it, and even if we had lost, our position was still good.
“You, uh…you got drafted, right?” Myles asked after a moment of silence.
I nodded and fiddled with my crochet hook so I didn’t start stimming the way I wanted to. The way that made everyone who didn’t know me well feel weird. “Mhm. A couple summers ago.”
“They let you finish up school?”
“They figured it was better that way. I was doing well here, and I could work on my game while finishing my degree. Better than being sent right down to the farm.”
Myles nodded. I wasn’t entirely sure if he understood what I was saying, but he didn’t ask me to clarify. “So…have you seen Colton around?”
I almost asked if there was a reason he was looking, but I didn’t actually want to know. Their business was their business. I shook my head. “Not since this morning. He left before me. He had an 8:00 a.m. class.”
Myles sighed and pushed himself up to his feet before hesitating. “You want me to stick around and keep you company?”
“No, thank you. I want to read and think.”
He blinked, then laughed. “I love the way you say what you mean.”
I wanted to play ignorant and pretend like I didn’t understand what he was talking about. But I was too tired and sore for it. “Easier that way.” I reached for my book and smiled a little when he gave me a pat on the shoulder.
“See you.”
When he was gone, I did my best to focus on the words in the book, but it felt impossible. My mind kept drifting to Quinn. I wondered what he was doing now. Was he happy? Sad? Busy?
Did he think about me at all, or was I just a notch on his belt?
Did he even have a belt?
“You’re looking a little better,” came a familiar voice from my right. One of my other frat brothers who was also nice to me appeared, looking about as tired as I felt, though I knew his was from his intensive degree program, not from sports.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as Eli heaved his bag down beside me and sat.
It was weird to see him outside of the house, not curled up and schmoopy with Cosmo.
But it was clear he’d just come from the physics building, and though it wasn’t exactly summery hot outside, there were little sweat droplets on his temples.
“I don’t feel better.”
He grimaced and reached across the table for my water bottle, peeling the label off. I knew what was coming next. It was similar to the compulsion I had, only instead of crocheting animals, he folded labels into origami animals. I liked the swans best, and I think he knew it.
He often left them all over the house, but by morning, for some reason, they were always gone.
“Long class?” I finally asked. He was probably expecting some kind of small talk.
“Yeah. We have a pretty sweet project going. There’s this supermassive black hole that had been dormant for basically ever, right?
But it’s started waking up. We got to check out the VLBA data for it.
This astronomer in Bologna was the one who’s been leading the research.
I cannot tell you how badly I want to go there.
He was responsible for this other project, too, that I—”
And that was where I zoned out. Most of the time, I loved listening to Eli talk nerdy about all his science stuff. It wasn’t my thing. I was never good with math—much to my parents’ dismay. I liked astrophysics as a concept, but my brain could never focus.
“…might be able to get a job there when I’m done. But I’ve been stressed.”
I blinked at him and tried to focus. “About working?”
“Leaving everyone.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t know being in a fraternity would feel good. I thought it was going to be a bunch of douchebag jocks.”
I pragmatically didn’t point out that our frat was a bunch of douchebag jocks with a handful of jocks who were less douchey than the rest. Eli was definitely in that category.
I tried for a smile, and he laughed, pushing the little swan toward me. “I need to head out. I have a lab, but I saw you sitting here, so I wanted to check on you.”
It was kind of him to do that. “Thanks.”
He hesitated like he thought maybe he should say something else, then grabbed his bag, stretched his back, and shot me a wave before he ambled off. When I was alone again, I poked at my crêpe, which was entirely inedible now that it had been sitting and gotten kind of crusty.
But that was fine.
Eating was terrible anyway.
I picked up my phone and felt an inexplicable urge to text Quinn.
To tell him about the game—about the victory and my injury.
To tell him about how I found the courage to speak up during my Women in Islam class when one of the baseball dickheads started spouting off with some red pill Reddit bullshit.
I opened up the group chat, which was lively, and I scrolled down a few pages before my heart dropped to my feet.
Quinn has left the chat.
Was that my fault? Had the night really been that bad?
Our private DMs were quiet, the way they had been after he dropped me off at the house.
There was nothing left between us, just like the way we planned. I just hadn’t realized he would completely disappear from everywhere I was. But it was fine. Really.
I would go on my way to the NHL and live my life, and he would go on to his physical therapy practice, and it would be like we’d never met. Except he’d kept something of mine from that night, and it wasn’t just my virginity. My heart felt fractured in half.
My chest ached a little, and I breathed through it, then turned my attention back to my reading. I had a life to get on with. I had one problem solved, so I was going to call it a win. Things were looking up.
I could only hope they stayed that way.