Being on the ice was second nature, but it was like that for most of us. I slipped behind Theo, and eyed each Westin player slowly as a victorious, cheeky grin crept onto my face. Fuckers. Success coursed through my veins when we skated to center ice to celebrate.
It was a rough game, which was expected because it was our first. Practices had been top-notch with minimal mistakes, but when you put a real opponent on the ice for the first time, things were bound to shift. Our team was able to adapt and overcome, though, even with my irritation directed toward Sully. He was a good right wing. I knew when to admit someone’s attributes and when to focus on their bad qualities all the same.
When we were on the ice together, our quiet rivalry was hidden, and that was exactly how it should be if either of us wanted to hit it big with the NHL.
I glanced up at the crowd, and the waving of the black-and-silver jerseys was more gratifying this season than last. We were destined for the Frozen Four this year, and we had some of the strongest hockey players on our team.
After dropping my stick and watching the rest of the team climb over the wall to rush us on the ice, I shouted in our captain’s ear over the roaring, “You’re coming out with us tonight. Don’t even say no, Theo.”
“I always go to parties after games,” he shouted through the back pats. “No need to beg me.”
“No one is begging you,” Emory joked. He inched his head toward the side of the rink, and we followed after him. He mumbled something about puck bunnies, which pulled at my stomach. I was a big fan of rewarding myself after playing a good game, and what better way to do that than with a girl who appreciated your hard work on the ice just as much as the team did.
I hadn’t talked to Liv since the night Riley came stomping into our apartment with hardly any clothes on, and I was still kicking myself for bluntly calling her out, because without any context, like knowing that she was absentmindedly encouraging Sully to achieve the team bet, I acted like the world’s biggest fuck boy. Now, she and I had this quiet cat-and-mouse game going on. She threw jabs at me—when she wasn’t pretending I didn’t exist—and I snapped right back at her. If I happened to pass her on the way to the elevator, or vice versa, I almost always skimmed my gaze down her body to see how revealing her clothes were.
They hadn’t been revealing at all, but I still couldn’t help but stare.
I was optimistic that the bet was a long-lost thought, though I knew it was highly unlikely. Coach’s threat lingered in the back of my head like a grating reminder, and each time he pulled me into his office and asked about Riley—like he couldn’t just pick up the fucking phone—I was reminded of the position he had put me in.
I was a bit resentful.
Theo and Emory’s conversation pulled me back to the present. They were talking about the party, and I was hoping that none of the Westin players decided to stick around and show their faces. They played dirty. Their shit-talking was up to par, and if Coach knew what they were saying, he would have been thrown out of the game.
I thought I had it under control until a familiar voice hit the back of my neck as I rounded the corner of the locker room.
“You may have won the game, but I’m going to be winning later.”
Is this guy serious?
I was the first to admit that I had a bit of a temper when I was younger. I struggled with controlling the raging testosterone flowing throughout my teenage body, but after my high school coach showed me how to channel my anger on the ice, I knew how to cool my jets.
But I had my limits, and I was reaching the end of them.
I stopped walking, letting Emory and Theo get farther ahead before I spun around. “We’re off the ice, man. You can stop with the mind games.” You lost. Time to go home.
Just the sight of the Westin jersey made my fingers twitch. Each defenseman that I had the pleasure of going up against had been making remarks about which Bexley U girls they were going to fuck after they won.
It was a shame they didn’t.
It was an even bigger shame that I was about to put him through a wall.
“I’m not playing any mind games.” Sweat swiped down the side of his forehead, and I noticed that there wasn’t a hint of humor on his red face. “I just wanted to know if you had Riley Lennon’s number.”
My jaw flexed. Is this a joke? I calmed my tone, but my arms were tingling. “What kind of player would I be if I gave you my coach’s daughter’s number after you and your teammates talked about running a train on our girls?”
I had a pretty big hunch that Riley wasn’t the type of girl who would let one of these players take her behind the arena to fuck her brains out like they had been indicating. I would bet my life that she was just as uptight in the bedroom as she was out of it. Unfortunately for me, though, I instantly became engaged when her name was mentioned.
I could thank Coach for that.
“Is Riley your girl? You were awfully concerned on the ice after I said her name.” He laughed, and my neck cracked. “Can I borrow her for the night?”
That isn’t happening.
“If you lay a finger on her, I will break it off—with my coach’s permission.” He was right. I was concerned. I was riled up. Too riled up. “If you were talking about asking her out on a date like a real man, maybe I’d have no issue.” Keyword being maybe. “But you and your teammates are a bunch of disrespectful dicks talking about her like that.”
Number nine shook his head, and his grin boiled my blood. “Riley Lennon has been untouchable since being on the arm of Gray Loretto, but word has it that they’ve broken up, and with the way he talked about her during the preseason, I think everyone wants a piece of that pussy.”
The hallway caved in. I pushed away the edging thought that maybe this whole thing with Riley was going to be harder than I thought. Assumptions had been made on my part, and admittedly, I didn’t think she was going to cause me too much trouble. But here I was, standing inches away from a Westin player with my blood pressure flying through the roof.
“This is why you lost the game.” I grinned, but it was a sick one. “You’re focused on a girl, whereas I’m focused on winning.” I stepped so close to him I could smell his sweat. “But now that we’ve won, I have no issues focusing on putting you through the fucking wall.”
I watched the flare of anger burn in his eye, but before he could do anything, I wrapped my hand around his throat, relishing in the way his windpipe was being held hostage against my palm. For a split second in time, I was pulled back into the past, remembering the last time I had someone’s throat in the palm of my hand. It’s always over a fucking girl.
Things happened quickly. Theo’s voice hit the side of my face, and Emory’s hands dug into my jersey. He shoved me into the silent locker room where I came face to face with Coach.
Whoops.
“What the fuck was that? Can we get through one fucking game without there being some conflict? You’re lucky we weren’t on the ice when you pulled that shit.” Theo turned to Coach and waited for his reprimand to follow.
His bellowing echoed throughout the locker room. “You better give me a good fucking reason, son. Or your ass is going to be running suicides at practice on Monday.”
Anger rushed through me. This is his fault. “You sure you want to know?”
Murmurs traveled throughout the locker room, and I was damn lucky that someone spoke loud enough for Coach to hear, because if it were up to me, I would have told him, word for word, what the other players were saying about his daughter.
“For fuck’s sake.” Coach threw his hands up and stalked over to his office. “This is why I cursed the moment my wife told me I was going to have a baby girl.”
His door slammed so loud the metal lockers rattled. My teammates wasted no time talking among themselves about how dirty the Westin players were on the ice.
I shut my locker and turned around half-dressed. “Those Westin players deserved to have their fucking faces bashed in.”
I was hoping that some of my teammates had a guilty conscience and realized that it was just as bad to have a bet over who could fuck Riley as the shit-talking was from our opponents. If so, then maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about their intentions with her.
After inhaling deeply, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I wasn’t going to let the last few minutes ruin the rest of my night. We won our first game, and I was heading to the football house to celebrate, and the chances of Riley being there were slim to none.
My mood lifted after Theo and I entered the party. I didn’t envy the football players for having their own house, but I was thankful for the parties they threw. My shared apartment, even if Ford continued to couch surf and use up all my toothpaste, was perfect. Well, it was until a mouthy blue-eyed pain in my ass moved across the hall.
Nearly everyone was half-tanked when we arrived. Rush walked down the stairs with a girl following him that had clearly been fucked minutes before with the way her hair was tangled. He exchanged some words with Theo as I scanned the party for any Westin players. Admittedly, I was still tangled up over what had happened outside of the locker room.
“Beers on the house for you guys.” Rush nudged my shoulder. “Oh, and I banned Westin players, bro. I heard about the fight. This is a chill environment. No fighting here. Our team can’t afford it, and neither can yours.”
“Solid.” I nodded, throwing up a fist.
Bexley U’s football team was number one in their division, like us. Although football at Bexley U had gained admirers for years, they still continued to pull in fans from all over the United States. Rush was a pretty decent guy too—especially for a quarterback.
“Problem solved,” Theo muttered, giving me a side look as he caught a beer from Emory.
I was next, catching a cold can in my hand and popping the tab as I dragged my eyes through the crowd. I adjusted my backward hat and licked the foam spilling out from the top.
Theo hated the attention we were getting.
But I didn’t mind it.
I grinned at a few puck bunnies as we continued walking through the party. Theo kept his gaze straight, not wanting to feed into the frenzy of hot admirers and back pats from some of the football players.
He leaned in, and I turned to listen. “You got a hard-on for Coach’s daughter or something?”
I paused, feeling like I was just caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Anger quickly rushed to the surface and replaced the feeling of guilt. “What? No.” It was true. I didn’t have a hard-on for Riley. Finding her attractive wasn’t a crime. In fact, I kind of detested her. Theo was unaware of Coach’s demand that I watch out for her, because knowing Theo, he’d swoop in and try to help, and he had enough going on with his new roommate situation. Not to mention, if he caught wind of the bet, he’d go ballistic. It would create a wedge between the captain and the entire team, and that was the last thing we needed.
“Good, because that would be a hard no.”
Obviously.
The antagonizer in me wanted to poke at my best friend and ask if he had a hard-on for his new roommate, because I saw the way he looked at her the other day at The Bex, but I kept the remark to myself. Instead, I slugged back my beer and headed straight to the beer pong table because I had no desire to be questioned about Riley.
She wasn’t at the party, so there was no need for her to take up any space in my head.
That was how the saying went—out of sight, out of mind.
