Chapter 8 Maverick
maverick
I fly down the ice on one leg, punching the air in excitement. This is my last year playing with this team, and to win our first game back is a high I’ll never forget.
Coach Alvarez claps every helmet as we make our way over the boards and off the ice.
“Shower and change, but don’t leave yet. I’ll meet you in the locker room in fifteen,” he calls out.
Our strength and conditioning coach, Sage, starts loading her hundred-pound equipment bag onto her shoulder, and since I’m the last to leave the bench, I snake it from her.
“Thanks.”
“Good lord, what do you got in this bag of tricks, Sagey?” The weight of the bag burns my already smoked shoulders.
“You’ll find out Monday,” she calls over her shoulder with a wave as she heads down the hall to the coach’s office.
There’s a clap on my back and I slow my step in line with Coach Alvarez. “Great game tonight, Hall.”
“Yeah, it was gettin’ chippy out there for a minute,” I say, adjusting the strap on my shoulder.
“But you focused on what needed to be done and came out on top,” he replies, leveling a pointed look at me. “I’m proud of you, kid.”
He’s never said it, but I know I let him down when I got ejected from that game last year.
It doesn’t matter that some duster was ganging up on my guy, Noah.
I know the rules, and I broke them anyway.
After having to meet with the dean of students, I expected Coach to light my ass up, but he recited the rules, doled out a two game suspension with an ‘I’m sorry’ tacked on the end, and that was that.
It’s imperative that I make it through this season with a squeaky-clean record, now.
When I got drafted this last summer, it was by the skin of my fucking teeth.
Brian, the player development coach for Toronto, had called me no less than five times this summer, disguising it as a bi-monthly check-in.
When in reality, he’s been sent to remind me of what’s on the line this year.
Silas is already showered and changed by the time I make it back to the locker room.
His toweled dry hair hangs over his eyebrows, and he lifts his fist, tapping the side of mine.
I head for the showers, dropping the equipment bag on the way.
As I hang my towel, the boys behind me start to get louder.
A mix of whistles and shouts, but I just assume someone got rat-tailed, so I step into the spray anyway.
“Hall!”
I pause, mid lather and twist over my shoulder, finding Chloe—or someone who looks like Chloe, just with a much more pissed off expression on her face—standing with her hands on her hips.
“Coop!” Noah shouts in surprise from the stall beside me. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“I need to talk to you.” She ignores him, keeping her attention on me while I resume lathering my body.
The sound of Noah’s water abruptly shuts off, and not a second later, he’s sliding behind Chloe with a towel wrapped around him.
He looks at me like I’ve got some balls not cowering to the five-foot-four little stick of dynamite before me.
Which is crazy, considering his girlfriend actually hated him when they first met.
“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.” I smile, having no shame when I turn around to face her.
She doesn’t falter, though. In fact, aside from a slight tilt of her head, she doesn’t move at all.
“Why the fuck would you tell Nathan we were dating?”
Because you might have been avoiding me since that night, but when I close my eyes, I still hear the crack in your voice, and see the salt-laced tear rolling over your cheek.
Her eyes widen, and her chin juts forward as she waits for an answer.
“Is he interested in you now?”
“Yes!” she screams.
“Well, there you go. Congratulations.” I rub the loofah across my chest, and it’s the first time her gaze has strayed.
She shakes her head once, bringing her attention back up to my eyes. “No, not congratulations. Now he thinks we’re dating. I can’t also date him now.”
“So, tell him we broke up.” She’s already mad, so I don’t tack on the duh that’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Then I look unloyal. Like the first guy that shows interest in me, I’ll just ditch my current boyfriend for.”
“Does it really matter?” I ask, not to challenge her, but out of pure curiosity.
“Yes, Maverick! Loyalty is important to me. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you, but it means something to me.”
I ignore the dig and refrain from mentioning that she doesn’t seem to care if someone is loyal to her. Someone forgot to teach this girl that loyalty is a two-way street. I believe her when she says it means something to her, I just find it odd that she’s not expecting it in return.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Her shoulders lift, and if I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have missed the shake of her head, but then she pins me with a face that looks like the answer should be obvious.
“Say you’re my boyfriend.”
I bark out a laugh that echoes through the otherwise empty showers before setting the soap down. “Sorry, babe. I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing it’s not real.”
I rub my ear and reach behind me to turn off the shower. “I don’t even think I would be a good fake boyfriend.”
She takes a step back, crossing her arms. “Well, maybe that will teach you to not run around and tell people we’re dating.” Her scowl should really be making me feel bad, but all it’s doing is stirring my cock. “I assume you’ll be at Creekside tomorrow?”
All I can do is nod, because I can’t wrap my head around any of this being that serious.
“Good. We’ll hammer out the details then.”
I lean forward, reaching just past her shoulder for my towel.
Her swallow is audible when my face hovers mere inches from hers, and I smirk as I grip the towel behind her but don’t pull back.
Her eyes bore into mine, and we stand like this for what feels like an eternity, but in reality is likely only seconds, neither of us willing to back down.
“Chloe, honey!” Coach Alvarez's voice cuts through the tension, enough to make her jump, and I use the distraction to wrap the towel around my waist. “What are you doing in here?”
Chloe turns toward Coach’s outstretched arm as he mutters something about how these girls are going to kill him.
I watch her walk out until she’s at the edge of the showers, and I want to tell her to forget whatever plan she has up her sleeve, because it’s never going to work. As if she can hear my thoughts, she puts a hand on the corner of the wall and turns, facing me once again.
“It’s good to see that you can rise to the occasion.” She smirks, and I look down at the tent in my towel.