“Fuck off.” I laugh and toss a roll of hockey tape at him. He catches it and tosses it right back at me.
Max Franklin raises his hand from where he’s sitting on the other side of the aisle. “Speaking as someone who’s been on thereceiving end of Gavin’s shoulder checks, he’s not the crazy one in the situation. He had me debating retirement last year.”
“Agreed,” Nichols says. “I couldn’t remember my own birthday for a week after my team played the Blizzards over Christmas.”
“You’re all exaggerating,” I say. “I don’t hit that hard.”
Connor levels me with his gaze and raises one eyebrow. “Don’t play innocent, king of penalty minutes.”
I smirk at him. He’s got me there.
“Yeah, yeah,” Coach Chris says. He looks right at me. “Don’t worry. I have a water bottle in there with your name on it. Just make sure any time you spend in the sin bin tonight Latvia pays for more than we do.”
I nod my head at him, then finish getting dressed.
Connor
This game would have been a bloodbath even without Gavin being outed. Latvia plays dirty. We all know it, and on a regular day, they might have been able to get one over on us. But not today. Our team is angry, and Latvia, purely by chance of the tournament, has landed in the position of being our punching bag.
They’re not helping their case. They keep trying to clip Gavin between his legs with the blade of their sticks, and twice I’ve seen him take shots in the ribs with a stick handle. He’s keeping his cool. Well, as much cool as you can expect out of Gavin, who’s currently taunting some giant Latvian forward as he drives down the lane.
I can’t hear what the Latvian player says to him, but I do see Gavin dip down, lowering himself so he can slam into him with his shoulder. It’s a brutal hit that takes the Latvian skater off his feet and has the refs blowing their whistles as Gavin and another Latvian player toss off their gloves. The refs break up the fight that’s about to ensue, pulling both players away from each other, and skating them in opposite directions.
“Say it again!” Gavin yells across the ice. “Say it again onemore time and I’ll let you pick the hand I use to beat the fuck out of you with.”
I gulp. I’m beginning to understand why Gavin’s worried about us playing against each other when this is over. Because now I’m horny.
The Latvian player makes a jerk-off motion with his hand.
“Yeah, that’s what your dad should have done instead of making you,” Gavin says as he’s locked into the box.
I skate past him and give him a wink, then get ready for the next face off.
Gavin
Ah, yes. My home. It feels good to be in here. This game is exactly what I needed to blow off this excess steam and residual anger that I’m feeling. I hate to say it, but it’s working better than the sex I had last night with Connor.
Not to say it wasn’t good sex. It was. Exceptional, even. But sex with Connor is not a place where I can rid myself of pent-up rage. That’s what the ice is for. That’s what carving deep edges, and marring a pristine smooth surface is for. That’s what smashing the other team into oblivion is for. I almost feel sorry for them. Almost. It’s still Latvia and everyone on that team is a massive prick, but they had no idea what they were getting into when they stepped out on the ice with us today.
They likely thought this was going to be an easy win. That we were going to be distracted by the shitstorm my being outed has created. They might have banked on the revelation of me being gay splintering our team. They were wrong. If anything, it has made us closer. No one is taking any shit.
In fact, both Max Franklin and Bradley Warren have taken penalty minutes for shutting people up with cross checks and blunt-force takedowns. And not once has Latvia been able to take advantage of the power play. Bouchard is locked in tonight. Possessed in a way I’ve never seen him before.
Connor
This game isn’t even close. We’re nearing the end of the third period, and we’ve scored six goals. Latvia hasn’t managed to score one. As it stands, Bouchard is four minutes away from securing the first shutout of these Olympics. He’s focused and blocking shots on goal with the same tenacity the rest of us use to block the Latvian players from getting their homophobic jokes off.
Bouchard makes another impressive save with his glove, then flings the puck down on the ice. We circle around our defensive zone while the refs set up another face off.
I look at Gavin across from me in the circle. His face is slightly red from exertion and his dark hair is coming out the sides and back of his helmet, dripping in sweat. On the shoulder of his jersey, there’s a splash of blood. Not his. That belonged to the giant Latvian forward who thought calling Gavin a cocksucker was a good idea.
All in all, Gavin has done well tonight. Sure, knocking that guy’s front tooth out did give him a second trip to the sin bin, but like Coach requested, it cost Latvia more than it cost us, as their star forward hasn’t been back in the game since.
The ref lifts his hand, and we all prepare ourselves for the puck to hit the ice. He drops it and I win the face off, sending the puck out of the circle and right to Max Franklin. We take off down the ice and I have Gavin following me, keeping me from taking a hit each time I have the puck in my possession. When we get near Latvia’s net, I take an opportunity. I fake left and make space for Gavin to move to my right. I look at him and wink, then pass the puck to him. He chips it into the hole Latvia’s goalie left wide open on the right side of the net when he thought I was going to shoot left.
The lamp lights and the goal horn blares, and Gavin turns to look at me with his arms raised over his head. The smile on his face is large and exhilarating. I wish I could kiss him.
Gavin
