Most of the guys on the team are either married or have puck bunnies in every city. My closest friends on the team are Jack and Sean. And I guess, Leo, too.
“I bet they were fake,” Marcus jokes, holding out his arms like he’s cupping boobs. These guys are like horny, immature teenagers sometimes.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Leo says.
“Hey, Nash. You get laid?” Dylan Peterson calls out to me. Out of the guys on the team, Dylan is one of the most annoying. He’s loud and obnoxious.
“Shut up,”I yell, but they ignore me.
“Aww Nash is our little virgin baby. He never kisses and tells,” Dylan cackles.
Leo laughs, too,and then starts heading my way.
I try to busy myself digging through my bag.
“You ready for this, Nash?” Leo’s voice snaps me back to the present, a taunting grin on his lips as he takes a step closer. “Or are you still recovering from that ‘alcohol’?”
When I don’t say anything, he gives me a strange glance. “What’s wrong?”
“What was that back there?” I whisper.
Understanding shows on his face. He sits on the bench next to me, checking his skates. “That was just guy talk. You gotta join in or they start to ask questions.”
I know what he’s saying. You have to pretend to be straight in a room filled with straight guys or they might start to make assumptions. I let my own emotions go.
“So, you need any help with your blocking skills?” he teases.
“Shut up,” I respond, unable to keep a smile off my face. “It was one shot that got past me.”
“Right,” he laughs, and in that moment, the weight of everything feels lighter, laughter rising to cut through the tension between us.
Our teammates bustle around us, excited and energized, yet I feel strangely disconnected. The chaos enveloping us blends into a familiar rhythm, but my focus remains anchored on the flickers of Leo’s presence as we navigate through our pre-game routine. There’s an adrenaline-fueled anticipation thickening the air. As we board the bus, the chatter bounces against the walls, but my thoughts spiral back to last night—the intimacy shared, the secret pact solidified.
I sit in the middle of the bus as we leave the hotel and head to the arena, the familiar sound of the engine humming beneath us, as teammates share laughs and banter. But my thoughts turn inward, drawn to the weight of the pact Leo and I forged—the reality of what we’ve done, yet still fighting to keep our connection at bay.
Every brush of his knee against mine sends a jolt through me, and every stolen glance feels like a spark, reigniting those unacknowledged feelings.
As we arrive at the arena, the energy shifts—electric and intoxicating, echoing through the corridors as we gear up for warm-ups. I glide onto the ice, and the coolness rushes over me, heightening my senses, sparking something fierce. I glance over at Leo as he skates effortlessly, confidence radiating off him like a beacon, and I can’t help but admire the way he moves, making everything else fade away. The crowd goes wild as the teams are announced.
I see women holding signs plastered to the glass, proclaiming their love for us.
Some hold signs asking Leo to marry them.
I even see one where a woman wrote in red glitter-Nash, have my babies.
We all smile and wave to the fans, enjoying their love and support. A lot of the guys will hook-up with some of those ladies after the game, but not me.
Leo takes his position in front of me, and we prepare for a drill, the chaos of warm-ups swirling around us like a living thing. It’s more than just a game; it’s a test of every nerve ending, of every emotion coiling within me. As he whips past me, the puck gliding along his stick, I find myself anticipating his every move, drawn in by the rhythm of his energy.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he challenges, and I feel a rush of excitement course through me. The game unfolds, and with each play, we discover a unique synergy building between us, a trust that transcends the silence of our earlier pact. It’s intoxicating, driving the momentum forward, an intricate dance between rivalry and something more profound.
From my position in front of the net, I watch as Leo glides over the ice, a huge smile playing over his face. He has a breakout and soars past the other team, scoring.
Another opponent breaks away from our defense and sends the puck flying toward me. Stretching out, I block the puck and end the game with us winning 2-1.
Leo skates over to me, lifting his helmet so I can see his face clearly. “Great block,” he winks.
The rest of the team joins us, celebrating our win. I’m pulled into the commotion, and Leo throws his arm around me.
