NO REGRETS
VIKTOR
C’MON, GUYS. WHO’S GONNA CATCH ME? I SKATE BACKWARDS FOLLOWED BY A WOBBLING, giggling pack of five- and six-year-olds. I stay slightly ahead of the fastest skater, a little girl in a tiny Monarch Mustangs jersey. After one lap of the arena, I pretend to slip, then get mobbed by the gleeful kids.
We got you! they shriek.
Sure did. Okay, let’s go over and get hockey sticks. You get to take shots on a real goalie next.
Wally frowns. Is that what I am? A real goalie, as opposed to an imaginary one?
As I pass out neon plastic sticks, I announce, Boys and girls, this is Connor Wahl, the top goalie in Minnesota Intercollegiate Athletic Conference. He’s going to lead us to the championship this year.
I turn to Wally. Happy now?
Instead he groans. Oh great, put me under all that pressure.
But it’s never too soon to start envisioning our goals.
Last year we made it to the semi-finals.
One fucking goal away from the finals. I’ve relived every scoring chance I missed that game.
But this year will be our year. We’ve got our number one goalie and our top defence pairing back again.
It’s my senior year, and I want to go out on a high.
Besides, I’d rather concentrate on hockey. Or activities like this kids’ program. After the summer I’ve had, I need to keep busy all the time because otherwise I’ll go crazy worrying.
Jack Sinclair, one half of that top D pair, skates over to help me organize the kids for a basic shooting drill.
This is so much fun, Sinc declares, not surprisingly, since he’s a little kid inside a man-sized body. Why didn’t we do it last year?
It’s all thanks to Mats. I point across the rink, where Roy Matsumoto is playing ice soccer with another group of kids. The money he got is helping to pay for this.
Last season, Mats helped to secure a large donation for the hockey program. While half of it is going to facility and equipment upgrades, the other half was voted on by our team leadership group.
We’ve lined up expert help in diet, training, and even skating. Some of the guys scoffed at extra training at this point in our hockey lives, but if we can all improve by ten percent, that could be the difference in winning a championship.
Additionally, community outreach was something that Mats and I both wanted to happen.
The people of St. Viola already support our team and make sure our games are sellouts, so it’s our chance to give back.
Five players have sacrificed their Friday afternoon to introduce to kids to hockey in a fun way.
The donation money covers insurance and admin costs.
I pull out a whistle to signal the end of the skating session and we herd the kids to the benches where their teachers and parent helpers are waiting.
A little guy skates up to me. Viktor, can you sign my jersey? You’re my favourite player.
Thanks, bud. I pat my jacket, but I wasn’t really prepared for this.
Antoine C?té, our other top defenceman, sticks a Sharpie in my face, and I bend down to sign the back of the kid’s jersey.
You always ready for autographs, Coty? I ask as I hand back the marker.
Of course. I want to get some of that sweet, sweet NIL money, he says, referring to the deal giving college athletes money from any team gear sold with their names or images.
But since we’re only a D3 hockey college, it’s not like anyone is making bank.
I made about a grand last year, and Coach told me that was the most any player got.
I don’t think writing my name on the back of someone’s jersey means that Monarch has to compensate me, I point out.
Damn. All the time I spent in the team store is wasted then? Coty is one of the funnier guys on our team. Well, you’re the captain and the leading scorer. You suck up all attention.
Unfortunately, signing one jersey leads to a whole bunch of kids asking for autographs. I realize they’re just stalling to stay longer at the rink, so I breeze through by signing jerseys and water bottles with only my nickname, Big Z.
How about autographing my T-shirt, Big Z? asks one of the moms. She opens her down jacket to reveal a white T-shirt that fits snugly over a large pair of breasts.
I chuckle politely. Don’t get me into trouble here. I hand the marker back to Coty again, and we skate over to help put away equipment.
Is there ever a situation where women don’t hit on Zee? Coty asks Sinc. And while I’m standing right there.
Sinc laughs. Yeah. It’s like talent and good looks count for something.
Coty shakes his head. But I have those things too. It must be your new flow. He musses my hair, and I knock his hand away.
Don’t touch the hair. I push the layers back in place. Am I particular about my appearance? Well, yeah, but as far as character flaws go, I figure it’s a minor one. Because it’s tough being the captain and a role model for the younger players.
Mats joins us at centre ice. That went great. The teachers want to do this again, and the kids loved us.
And some of the moms too, Coty quips.
Leave it alone, I groan. Besides, I would never go out with an older woman.
Mats gives us a puzzled look, then surveys the ice. Man, doesn’t it feel great to be out here?
I nod. I can’t wait until the season actually starts and we can be on the ice daily. I hate this time of the year when our on-ice practice time is limited by NCAA rules.
Why don’t we do a few laps? Sinc suggests. If Coach catches us, he’ll be pissed, but it’s hard to resist an empty sheet of ice. But even Mats, who’s big on following rules, looks tempted. We grab our sticks and start skating.
Almost immediately I slow, unable to fully extend my stride.
Zee, you’re skating like an old man. What’s wrong? Coty asks.
Some woman elbowed me in the balls last night and I’m still sore, I complain.
He laughs. Mon ami, you must learn that no means no.
It wasn’t like that. We were in the library, and I asked her for a book. I startled her and she reacted by— I motion towards my poor testicles.
Now Coty is howling with laughter, so Sinc and Mats skate over to find out what is so funny. Then I have to explain again.
How bad was it? Mats asks.
I was lying on the floor of the library! And I could hardly breathe. It hurt so fucking much, I say.
Sinc chimes in with a story of getting kicked during a soccer game. Then Mats recalls getting hit with a puck so hard that his athletic protector cracked. Hilariously, whenever one of us gets to the painful part of the story, the others automatically wince and cover their junk.
But Zee, isn’t your manhood so impressive that women swoon in its presence? Coty teases.
Not this woman. She was pretty with a heart-shaped face and big grey-green eyes. But she had also been spectacularly uninterested, and I can take a hint.
Wally is already gone, so the four of us head home afterwards.
There are three hockey houses in a row in St. Viola. Coty and I live in the largest one. Three of my roommates are the same as last year: Coty, Wally, and forward Ross Murphy. Forwards Joe Greco and Dylan Johansson just moved in.
Coty and I head to the kitchen and grab a drink once we get home.
Two on-ice sessions with kids, and I’m exhausted. What does this say about my game fitness? he wonders.
No, I’m the same. It was like herding cats. Kids are fun, but they’re non-stop energy.
I think I’ll take a nap, Coty says.
Good idea, I agree. One of the superpowers of hockey players is our ability to take afternoon naps. It’s a great way to refresh before a big game, or just recharge, period.
I close my drapes, strip off my clothes, and slip under my cool sheets.
I grab my phone and begin my new routine: check the family group chat, check the news in Ukraine, check my email.
Nothing new, and the wait for information is agonizing.
The worst thing is allowing my imagination to go wild.
I set my phone aside and close my eyes, willing myself into unconsciousness.
I jerk awake to a painful sensation in my balls. My cock is rock-hard. As I swim back to consciousness, I sense that I’m not alone.
What the fuck? I mumble.
Relax, Vik. It’s just me, purrs a sultry voice I recognize.
Destiny?
Of course, silly. Who else would it be? She pushes herself against me, and I realize that’s she’s naked too. The pain was her tugging on my already sensitive balls as she stroked my cock into an erection.
My stomach roils as I push her hands away. Stop. How did you get into my room?
One of your roommates let me in. Destiny wriggles closer to me, pushing her breasts into my chest. Despite the erection I’m sporting, I’m not turned on at all. I’m furious that she took liberties with my unconscious body. Consent is a two-way street.
She snakes her hands back down to my cock, but I slide away. I stand, swaying briefly as memories hit me in the gut. Then I regain control of myself.
He shouldn’t have done that, I say as I pull on a pair of sweatpants.
What’s the big deal? I told him I was your girlfriend. She throws back the covers and stretches out, trying to tempt me with her naked body. I avert my eyes, feeling only revulsion.
You’re not my girlfriend. We’ve discussed this before.
Oh, come on, Vik. We’ve been seeing each other since school started, and we get along so well—in and out of bed. You’re not still clinging to your ridiculous rules, are you?
Even as my anger rises, I keep my voice calm. I’ve only ever been honest with you. I’m not someone who does relationships. You said you were fine with that.
I just want to have a little fun, Destiny assured me, but now she’s changed her mind. It’s my own fault for continuing to see her, but I’ve been preoccupied.
She just laughs in reply, not believing me.
I’m sorry, Destiny, but I have my priorities: hockey, family, and my plans after graduation. And a serious relationship doesn’t work with that. It sounds like an excuse so early in the year, but I don’t want anyone or anything tying me down—especially someone who doesn’t respect boundaries.
She wriggles her body into an S on the bed, her dark hair spread out on the pillow and her lips wet where she’s just licked them.
Then she lifts her breasts, offering them like a gift to me.
Aww, are you grumpy because I woke you from your nap?
I can make it all better. If you don’t have the energy to fuck, I can blow you.
If you come, you’ll fall right back to sleep.
I am aware that what I’m going to do next would have most guys on campus wondering about my sanity. I pick up her discarded clothing from the floor and hand it to her. You’re going to have to leave.
For a moment, she stares at me in complete shock. Then comprehension clicks in. Her eyes narrow and she grabs her clothing and clutches it in front of her.
Are you serious right now? You’re turning me down? Her eyes are wide and unbelieving.
I can try to defuse the situation, but there’s no sugar-coating the truth here.
I just don’t do commitment. I told you that.
She yanks her clothing on with angry huffs of breath. When she’s dressed, she flings open the bedroom door, then turns back.
You are so going to regret this, Vik.
Her words sound ominous, but if she only knew how many times I’ve heard that before.
She shuts my door with violence. Her stomping footsteps recede, but a few minutes later the front door slams so loudly that I can hear it even two floors away.
I pull on a T-shirt and socks. The nausea returns, and I go straight into the bathroom next to my room to vomit.
I flush the toilet, then rise and grip the sides of the pedestal sink.
I stare into the mirror. There’s sweat on my forehead, and my eyes are bloodshot.
My sixteen-year-old self looks back, scared and uncomprehending.
I shake my head, splash cold water on my face, and brush my teeth.
No chance of getting back to sleep now. I go down to the kitchen.
Joe Greco is sitting at the table, drinking a protein shake and scrolling his phone. He smirks at me. You’re not satisfying your women if they leave like that.
I had my doubts about Grecs moving in this year. He’s a good player but kind of a fuckboy, and not that bright.
Please don’t let any women in to see me without checking with me first, I tell him.
He shoots me an incredulous look. Sorry. I thought I was doing you a favour. She was a smoke show. Did you have someone else up there?
I shake my head. I was taking a nap. And she’s not my girlfriend.
So, let me get this straight. Hot women show up on our doorstep, all ready to fuck? And there are so many that we have to turn them away? Grecs snickers loudly. I think I’m really going to like living here.
Nah, that’s just Zee. Coty enters the kitchen, his dark hair messy and clothes rumpled. Destiny must have woken him up too. He gets oat milk out of the fridge and starts preparing one of his special smoothies.
Oh, only Captain Perfect gets all the perks? Grecs sneers.
Zee is a special case. Coty pauses to run the blender, then finishes his thought. He plays hard to get.
I shake my head. I’m not playing at anything. I enjoy dating, but I don’t want a steady girlfriend.
Grecs nods. Oh, I get you. Variety is the spice of life, right? Don’t want to get tied down when there’s so much pussy out there.
Once again, his words irritate me. But this time I feel the truth of his words.
I act like some scumbag who has to score with new women constantly, so I’m stuck with a player reputation.
Destiny was a nice distraction from all my worries, but I have too many responsibilities to take on any extra demands.