8. Eight
EIGHT
J ax
My skates touch down on fresh ice as I skate onto the rink in an arena full of people. The place is packed with home team fans and the away team’s as well. The Knights are an hour away in Bridgedom City, making our games even in the amount of supporting fans that attend.
Alicia is at every game we play and has been for the last three years. She always sits right behind the team bench, giving her the best view of middle ice. I scan the seats behind the bench, spotting the two of them walking in from the concessions.
With Harley in view, I clench my jaw hard enough to crack my teeth. She’s wearing red and white instead of blue and gray. Her wearing enemy colors in my arena isn’t going to happen. But when she turns her back to the ice, revealing the name and number on her back, white hot rage clouds my vision.
“Second center!” I shout, gaining his attention from the middle of his warm up.
“What’s up, Cap?”
“Go to the lockers and get my practice jersey. It’s freshly cleaned, and I need it,” I tell him.
He skates toward the locker rooms to retrieve my jersey. The stands are already packed full of people. My parents are here somewhere, but I don’t give a fuck.
As soon as the jersey is placed in my hand, I skate over to the bench and hop the boards in one jump. The blades of my skates hit the padded carpet. Stepping up behind the bench, I slap the plexiglass to get her attention.
Harley’s head snaps in my direction. She stares back at me with those wide doe eyes. Her lips are parted, whatever lip gloss she’s wearing glinting in the fluorescent lights from the arena.
“Get over here,” I tell her.
“Are you going to add a please to that?” Harley pops off.
“Davidson,” I growl in warning.
Her eyebrows shoot up, but she rises to her feet and steps down on the other side of the plexiglass in front of me. “What do you want, Zayden?”
I drape my jersey over the divider and snap, “Take it off.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her brows pinching together as defiance flickers through her gaze. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll come do it for you,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
She huffs out a breath, shaking her head from side to side. Her pupils dilate as she locks her eyes with mine and states, “You’re insane.”
“What made you think wearing a rival jersey would be a good idea, doe eyes?” I demand.
“It was the only jersey I had,” she admits.
“Not anymore. Take it off,” I bite out.
Her face is the reddest I’ve ever seen, and despite all the other people in this arena right now, I can hear her increased heart rate and unsteady breathing. Harley grabs the hem of the jersey and lifts it over her head in one swift motion. She pushes onto her toes, and holds my lethal stare as she grabs the jersey draped over the plexiglass.
Bringing my nose closer to the glass, I murmur, “We may be enemies, Davidson, but from here on out you wear these colors, the number seven, and my name on your fucking back. You belong to me, not a scumbag like Leroy fucking Sanchez.”
I don’t give her any opportunity to argue. I’m back over the boards and on the ice just in time to see her pull her head through my jersey. Pride swells in my chest, for no other reason than I know my name is on her back now. I just claimed the girl with pretty blue doe eyes in front of the entire arena.
“Quinton,” I say, skating up to him. “I need a favor. And it’s a little gay.”
He laughs low, catching the puck with his stick just as Jace flicks it over to him. “Let me guess, you wanna impress a pretty girl with curly blonde hair tonight?”
“Shut the fuck up. Will you do it or not?”
He slaps my helmet, “I heard about the little bet and how you won. I also heard that if you lost you had to kiss me. I take it that’s the favor you’re asking. Even though you won?”
“When you say it like that, I sound pathetic.”
“You are pathetic. But I’ll be a little gay for you tonight, Cap.” Quinton winks and flicks the puck toward Ross, who stops it from even passing the goal crease.
A ref blows the whistle, alerting everyone to gather on the ice. The first line of my team and the opposing team get into their respective positions on the ice.
I stand in front of Leroy Sanchez. He’s the first line center for Bridgedom City University. The guy talks so much shit, it’s hard to tell the difference between his mouth and his asshole. He’s a dick and it never fails that someone on the team ends up in the damn sin bin before the game is over.
But hockey is an aggressive sport, and I end up in the sin bin more than I would care to admit.
“Forcing girls out of my jersey now, are we?” Sanchez drawls.
I clench my teeth down on my mouth guard. I don’t need to respond to his taunts, and I won’t. Not tonight. Because me and my boys have this game in the bag. Between the first and second line, there’s no way we won’t take home the win tonight.
The puck drops, the whistle blows, and I smack the puck to my left and in Justin’s direction before Sanchez even blinks. Justin takes off down the left side of our offensive zone, his defenseman on his tail as soon as he crosses over the blue line.
Justin slaps the puck across the ice toward Jace, who in turn smacks it back to me. Checking Sanchez out of my way, I glide into the offensive zone and assess the scene unfolding. Justin has no opening. I turn to Jace and see his stick tap the ice three times. It’s our way of confirming a good pass.
I hit the puck in his direction and watch as he attempts to score. Their goalie blocks it, sending it out to one of his defensemen. It goes from him to Sanchez. My skates move quickly, following Sanchez glide for glide. I’m pushing the two of us toward the boards.
By the time we cross into the defensive zone, I have him close enough to check him into the boards. The hit is hard enough to knock the air out of him.
The ref blows the whistle before dropping the puck into the faceoff zone in front of Quinton.
We end first period with no score for our team. BCU is up by one point, not anything we can’t come back from. Second line hops on the ice to start us out in the next period, leaving the five of us on the bench until we’re called back out.
I hear the knock on the glass, followed by an irritated, “Get your defensemen off your back, Mathews. You’re costing us the game and it’s only the start of the second period.”
Turning, I find Alicia glaring daggers at Justin.
“Shut the fuck up, Alicia,” Jace gripes at her.
“Tell your stupid brother—” she starts to say.
He cuts her off. “My brother heard you and your unwanted criticism. Sit your ass down and be quiet.”
I look over at Justin, whose right leg is bouncing uncontrollably. His head isn’t in it tonight. That’s been clear from the moment we hit the ice. He’s here and his focus is on the game, but his head isn’t cooperating.
“You good man?” I ask, low enough for only him to hear.
He glances over his shoulder, and I know he’s looking at the brunette who just called him on his shit. “It’s fine, man. Just gotta tell myself that it’s just any other day of the year.” Under his breath, he adds, “She obviously can. So should I.”
We go through rotation of lines. When the coaches signal for us to prepare to get on the ice, the five of us stick our gloves back on. I turn, grabbing Justin by the facemask. He already has his mouth guard in.
“Don’t talk. Just listen. Forget about Alicia. Wipe her from your head just for tonight. You can dwell on whatever the fuck happened in the past later. But right now, I need your head in the game, beta. You hear me?”
“Yeah, Cap.” His words are muffled due to the mouth guard.
I press my own guard in and tap my helmet to his. “Let’s go score a fucking hat trick tonight.”
Justin’s answering grin is enough to know he’s accepted the back-to-back three-point challenge I’ve just given him. We hop the boards, hitting the ice with renewed vengeance.
And when Justin assists me in slamming the puck into the net after faking out their goalie, I grin, knowing I’m about to blow my doe eyed girl’s mind.