I head out onto the ice. We’re three on three because there are so many fricking penalties. The clock’s down to five minutes because it took me so long to get out of the box with how the rules work. I give Merc a quick glance—this one’s for you babe—and stare into the face of Colton Renner.
I will end you, mother fucker.I go in with that attitude and ignore the spicy look he’s giving me. When the puck drops, it’s mine. I pass back to Jacob. Renner puts his fucking stick out, but I’ve been practicing yoga and doing my eye exercises, dirtbag. That’s right, eye exercises. My joints have more reach, and my reaction time is faster because of them. I catch myself before I fall flat on my face, recovering enough to catch the pass from Jacob without being offside.
I fucking gun it, reaching the speed of flying, where if I give it any more juice, I’ll be outta control.
One two three, one two three, over the puck with my stick.Whack!Is it in? Is it … it’s in! “Yeah!” I round the boards and bend the knee, gliding as I pump my fist in celebration.
Our team goes as wild as we would have if we’d won in sudden death overtime, when really, it’s the one goal we scrapped out all fucking game. They bound over the boards, and we spend way too much time congratulating ourselves for the one goal. I skate backward across our side of the bench with a smile for Mercy.
“Don’t get cocky, Leslie. Get out there and do it again,” he says. Whatever. I can tell he’s warm and bubbly inside because he knows that was for him.
I don’t score another, but Jacob does, and we walk away with a two to four loss instead of a big ol’ goose egg.
“Suck it, Sutter.” That’s from Casey to Sutter from across benches since neither coach is stupid enough to have them on the ice anymore.
We head to the locker room alive with fire. We didn’t win, but we stuck it to them and some games with Boston that’s all we can hope for. I’m ripping the tape off my socks when Mercy storms in, his blazer flying behind him like a cape.
He’s not Mercy right now though, he’s Coach and he’s livid. He kicks at the air and slams his hand against the wall, standing with his back to us as he gathers the fortitude to tell us we were toddlers.
I know what he’s thinking. He lost it too and I know how much he hates losing his firm grip on control, but I’d say it wasn’t quite the same. We—the players on both sides—were the instigators and he was left to finish it.
He takes a perceptible breath and turns around. “When I played, we had team rivalries too, so I get it, I really fucking get it. I get blowing off steam. Hell, I’m a fucking fan of hockey fights and I’ll die on the hill that keeps it as part of the sport, but that out there was bullshit. Alderchuck,” he says. Both Alderchucks turn. “That’s nothing but unresolved sexual tension with Sutter. Either fuck him or find a way to contain yourself to one fight a game with him or I’ll bench you when we play them.”
“We don’t have—”
I shake my head at Casey. Now’s not the time to argue and maybe they do just need to fuck. There’s nothing like hate fucking to resolve your problems.
He continues with his lecture, which is addressed to all of us. Is this gonna be one of those “if you earn a lecture at school, you earn a punishment at home” kind of situations? Yeah, my mind’s going there now. It’s hot and gives me the good squirmy feeling.
When he’s done his locker room dressing down before we finish dressing down, he exits with a loud slam against the heavy blue door. I expect the “Leslie, I’ll see you after class” style comment, but it never comes.
What the fuck? I wasn’t that bad so I know it can’t be the brawling that has him acting this way. He’s struggling with whatever happened before the game. He might need some time to think things through and I get that.
Somberly, the team cranks off their standard post-game thirty on some kind of cardio equipment to burn off the lactic acid. Then we hit the showers and I opt to shower in the locker room since so many of the others are and I’ll have to wait for them anyway unless I take an Uber.
I wash up beside Casey. “So, do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Wanna fuck Sutter?”
“I didn’t think so, but Coach is seldom wrong and it’s annoying.”
Yeah, he has no idea how wise he is. I might be crushing on him in addition to lusting after him. Now I wanna fuck him, but he’s off-limits for the night. Guess it’ll be me and my hand, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tease my best friend.
I step forward until my dick is an inch from Casey’s. Casey laughs, shoving me away. “Be careful how close you get when you’re naked, dude. I don’t feel like digging my own grave just so Coach can throw me in it.”
“I wasn’t gonna do anything. Besides, it’s not like we’re boyfriends, Case.”
“Close enough.”
That rankles me a little. Just because I’m aware that our agreement becomes more of an illusion every day, doesn’t mean I want to acknowledge it. Narrowing my eyes, I step under the hot water. “I know what we are. We have an agreement.”
“Your agreement’s shit.” He shrugs.
Yeah, okay. I guess I have to accept that on some level, I’m a taken man. Baby steps.
“Jack,” a voice says from the back of the locker room.
