It was stupid.
Immature.
And it hadworked.
Because the insult wasn’t just about a name—it was a reflection. A twenty-eight-year-old man reduced to playground jabs. The other team was rattled. So was he.
And Jett Acton?
That guy was straight-up unhinged.
He had to be, right?The crazy ones always knewexactlywhat they were doing – and as Liam watched, he was more convinced that Acton might be the smartest guy on the team or literally insane.
“Puck?” Jett replied simply – one word – just as the referee dropped the black disc, and thank heaven for Boucher. The man shot forward like a missile, slinging the puck with precision into the net, right between the goalie’s legs.
The first score of the game.
“Whoop! Whoop!” Jett crowed, skating past the boards and blowing Liam a kiss. “Captain Pimples for the win; aren’t you glad I’m here? Watch me tear it up, Cap, I got you. Much love, bruh – much love,” the man continued and then made a heart with his hands that set the crowd to laughing once again.
Liam cursed, putting his own hand on his face in disbelief, causing the coach to react. He leaned forward, slapped Liam on the shoulder, and gave him a look. “That’s your boy, your mess. You keep him in line. I don’t care what he calls you so long as we win, got me,Captain Pimples?”
“Coach… not you too.”
“Seriously, look at them?” Coach Starnes pointed, and Liam’s eyes followed. Sure enough, Jett was skating and weaving between the other players, heckling and chirping with enthusiasm that was causing a boisterous riot on the ice, and Salas scored in the midst of it all.
“Ex-Squeeze me,” Jett was saying loudly, singing it. “Ice it, dice it, splice it, and then slap a Band-Aid on that big blond, overgrown ‘boo-boo’ on your greasy faces… and what do you get? Cap-tain Pimp-les!” he crowed, enunciating the new nickname.
Liam cursed again, wincing, and then saw his face on the big monitor, hearing the announcer’s voice.
#50 – Captain Pimples, Liam Savage - Wolverines
‘Perhaps there is something there, Dave? Maybe Savage is smarter than the rest of us and going for endorsements with skincare?
‘Could be. Goodness knows the ladies like him…’
‘They sure do, Dave. They sure do!’
The announcers were having a field day –at his expense.
“Hey! Hey!” Acton skated by with that signature grin plastered across his face, eyes dancing with mischief and triumph. “You’re famous, Cap…”
Liam exhaled slowly, trying not to let the mortification show too clearly. His cheeks were hot beneath his helmet, and his ears were definitely burning. The nickname. The chaos. The sheer absurdity of it. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he asked, still trying to find steady footing beneath the wave of disbelief.
Three points in the first five minutes. That was the stuff of legends. Or lunatics. And Jett Acton was somewhere squarely in between.
“Mebbe…?” Acton purred, coming to a smooth stop in front of Liam, grinning like the darn Cheshire cat. He leaned casually against the boards, elbow propped up, lashes fluttering dramatically like some lovesick cartoon character. His arrogant charm could've irritated Liam if it weren’t so utterly infectious. “Do you still love me?”
Liam let out a disbelieving laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. How could anyone stay mad at this guy? He was a human hurricane of chaos wrapped in a jersey.
“Oh my gosh,” Liam muttered, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and camaraderie. “Can you just go score a point?”
“Say, please?” Acton teased, his voice sing-songy.
“PLEASE?” Liam shot back with no hesitation. He was still laughing. At this point, what else could he do?
“Just for you, buddy,” Acton replied. “I gotchu, bruh… watch this.”
And then he was gone, tearing down the ice like a man on a mission.
