Chapter 13 Zeke
thirteen
Zeke
Ihaven’t slept with anyone since Avalon. Not since we had an afternoon quickie, and then she made it very clear it would never happen again.
It’s like I’m off my game when it comes to girls. And to avoid the guys asking me questions, I’ve been spending more time at the hospital with my mom. Which isn’t a bad trade-off. Most days, I’d rather hang out with her than sleep around.
The sex just helps with all the tension, but since hockey season is back in full swing, the sex isn’t as necessary. I have other ways to blow off steam, but a guy still has needs. And I’m pretty sure my right arm has more muscle because it’s working overtime to meet those needs.
“So, who do you have lined up?” Fletcher wonders, sending the puck in my direction.
We’re finishing up practice by hitting the puck back and forth, mainly because Coach stepped out to take a phone call, so we’re rejuvenating after that grueling practice he just put us through.
“Lined up for what?” I shoot the puck toward the middle of the ice where Jaxon and Declan are stationed.
“The weekend,” he continues. “Do you still meet up with Whitney when we go to Ohio?”
“Oh, right, um, I haven’t reached out to her yet, but I assume she’ll be at the game.”
“You okay?” He rests against his hockey stick. “You seem off.”
“I’ve just been spending a lot of long nights at the hospital, so I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Is your mom okay?”
The puck flies down from the other end of the ice, where Jeremy and Brooks are chatting, waiting for the puck to return to them. Fletcher stops it easily, gliding it around the ice with his stick before sending it to mine.
“She’s good, same old, same old. A shitload of tests, a bunch of doctors who all do different things, none of which make sense.
I have no right to complain about being tired; they keep her up all night, and when they aren’t in her room, she has machines hooked up to her, keeping her awake,” I reply, sending the puck to Declan.
“You see Bowman? I swear he was here a minute ago.”
“He was here before Coach dipped out to take that phone call,” Fletcher replies. “But I don’t know if he was down there when—”
There are three taps against the ice, and I look toward the far corner where one of our freshmen is standing. He’s been watching the door, and those three taps alert us that Coach is coming back inside, which means game mode.
Fletcher is on top of me, no longer leaving a gap like he was a few moments ago.
The puck comes soaring back toward me, and I hit it around Fletcher and make a mad dash for the net.
Jaxon meets me near the goal, Declan hot on his trail, and with no clean shot, I’m forced to go behind the net, the puck going back and forth in front of me.
Jeremy comes around to where I am, blocking Fletcher so I can skate around the other side of the net, barely making it past Declan. When I have a clear enough shot, I shoot the puck toward Jeremy, who’s standing right at the corner of the net, and he easily tips it in.
“Fuck yeah!” I cheer, skating toward him as a whistle is blown.
“Nice work, men,” Coach Anderson says. “Way to work together. Great work clearing yourself for that puck, Moore. Practice is over. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, so please get your rest tonight.
If you guys play like that at the game, they won’t even know what hit them.
Let’s keep our undefeated record through the weekend, yeah? ”
I follow the guys off the ice and back into the locker room.
“So, are you meeting Whitney tomorrow after the game?” Jaxon asks. “You won’t have time after Saturday's game because we’ll head home early, but tomorrow—”
“I can be out of the room,” Fletcher cuts him off. “Just let me know early enough so I can find other arrangements.”
“Yeah, we don’t want Coach to find Fletcher sleeping on the floor outside your room again.” Jeremy laughs.
“In all fairness, I told him he was welcome to stay.”
“I was not going to stay in the room while you had sex; that’s disgusting.” He rolls his eyes.
“I gave you headphones.”
“You can stay in our room, Fletch,” Brooks begins. “But you’re sharing a bed with Jere. I don’t share my bed.”
“Unless it’s with Olivia,” Jaxon mocks.
“Because she’s my girlfriend… and she’s hot,” Brooks argues. “You guys are gross and sweaty.”
“You’re just mad because the last time we shared a bed, I hogged all the covers,” Fletcher replies.
“And you like to cuddle.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Fletcher’s brows furrow, and I laugh.
“I’m not gonna cuddle with you, Fletch,” Brooks adds. “It’s weird.”
“Why’s it weird?”
“Just let it go, Fletch.” I pat his back.
“What? A guy can’t cuddle with his friend?”
“The only friend I will approve of you cuddling with is Tate,” Declan pipes in.
“Lucky for me, I didn’t ask for your input,” Fletcher grumbles, drying the sweat off his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it wasn’t weird to cuddle your friends?” Declan crosses his arms.
“I know what you’re doing, Sanderson. You’re implying something, and I won’t tell you guys again, Tate and I are just friends.”
“Even though you made out in high school and almost hooked up?” Jaxon’s eyes narrow. “Doesn’t seem very platonic to me.”
“We were both heavily drunk,” Fletcher argues. “Our team just won nationals. We were celebrating, and we kissed. It meant nothing, and when we talked the next day, it was clear we both regretted it.”
“I think a lot more would’ve happened if I didn’t throw up on the couch and ruin your moment,” I begin. “I’m just saying, if you both thought that kiss was awkward, you should be thanking me for not letting it get any further.”
He rolls his eyes, peeling his gear off.
“I’m waiting.”
“I’m not thanking you, fuckwad.” He whips his jersey at me. “I don’t know how this conversation landed on me. We were talking about Zeke hooking up with Whitney. Get back to that. I’m gonna shower.”
“So, Whitney?” Jeremy asks.
“Maybe if you all sex lives of your own, you wouldn’t be so wrapped up in mine.” I slam my locker shut with a smile. “I’m showering.”
“Be careful!” Jaxon yells after me. “Fletcher’s a cuddler.”
Ididn’t sleep with Whitney while we were in Ohio last weekend. I thought about it. I really did. And I guess you could say I tried to. It just wasn’t what I wanted.
Don’t get me wrong, I was turned on, but it felt like something was missing. Whitney didn’t seem to mind; she was cool about it, which I appreciated. We hung out in my room since Fletcher took it upon himself to find different sleeping arrangements.
Whitney did give me a bunch of shit about my heart being ready to settle down, and that’s why I didn’t want to sleep with her. Like, what kind of bullshit is that? Can’t a guy just want to have phenomenal sex?
Not that Whitney and I don’t have a great time when we get together, but fuck, sleeping with someone that your body just seems to connect to is where it’s at.
The most annoying part with this Avalon thing, aside from my body not getting as excited as I used to when it comes to sex with just anyone, is the fact that every home game is going to make me think of her.
If I got her to talk to me again, she’d realize acquaintances with benefits is the way to go. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.
“This fucking game, man.” Jaxon flops down onto the bench.
I wouldn’t say we went into this game thinking we’d dominate. We’re the last two undefeated teams, so a lot is riding on tonight’s game.
And right now, it’s not leaning in our favor. The Mustangs are leading 5-2, and you’d think these refs are so far up their ass with some of these god-awful calls.
One of their players fucking elbowed Declan in the face during the first period on purpose, and the refs did nothing.
“Harris, Holmes, Moore.” Coach points to the ice, and we replace three of our worn-out teammates. Not that our energy’s much better.
With Jax, Jere, Declan, Brooks, and I back on the ice together, I hope we can turn this game around. We have been fighting like hell for nearly two whole periods, especially to give Cam some relief.
It's not long before they get another goal, and from the groans around the arena, I can tell the audience is just as upset as we are.
But we don’t give up. We still have a little time left on the clock for this period, and then we have a third period to turn this game around. I’ve seen teams come back from worse.
I skate toward our goal, the puck gliding perfectly with me, but before I can reach the end, one of their players comes out of nowhere, shoving me into the glass and stealing the puck.
I skate like hell to beat him down there, but luckily, Jeremy’s waiting on the other end to steal the puck back. And he does, shooting it back in my direction, but my focus isn’t on the puck. It’s on number 65—
O’Connell.
Who’s still charging in Jeremy’s direction even though he no longer has the puck. And before I know it, Jere’s flying into the glass and hitting the ground.
O’Connell laughs. I can see the smug smile as he taps Jeremy with his skate as if he wants Jere to get up and throw a punch.
Jeremy doesn’t get up, though.
I don’t even hear the whistle; I just see Declan skate over to O’Connell and push him against the glass. I don’t even think he’s doing it to fight the guy; Declan knows getting in a fight could cost him at least two games. He just wants him away from Jere.
Who still hasn’t moved.
Our medical team reaches Jeremy as the refs reach Declan and O’Connell.
I still haven’t seen Declan throw a punch, but he’s taken a few. I can see the blood trickling down his face, but all he’s doing is holding O’Connell against the wall.
One of the refs grabs the back of Declan’s jersey and yanks him off, pointing toward our benches.
Jere finally sits up, and there’s a wave of relief as they help him to his feet. He’s pissed, I can tell. That kind of hit, with his back history, could’ve cost him his career.
And O’Connell would’ve known that.
The refs send both teams back to their benches as they get Jeremy off the ice.
But they don’t call a penalty. Even though that hit against Jeremy was a dirty one. An unnecessary one.
“What the fuck?” I mutter. “Coach, they aren’t gonna call that? That piece of shit O’Connell should be sitting in the box for that one. Hell, he should be out of the game for throwing a punch at Declan.”
“I think the asshole broke my nose.” Declan runs a towel under his nose to soak up any blood.
“And they could argue that Declan started it,” Coach says.
“Coach, this is bullshit. They’ve been ignoring penalties against the Mustangs all game. He could’ve seriously hurt Jeremy, and he laughed,” I argue.
“And then he quite literally kicked Jeremy while he was down,” Fletch adds.
“I know these refs are fucking idiots,” Coach begins.
“But we can’t do anything about that. We can’t force them to make calls.
What we can do is get back out there and see them not kicking Declan out of the game as a blessing.
You guys have it in you to win this game.
So, forget about that piece of shit, O’Connell, and go win this game for Jeremy. ”