Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
The room rumbled with a ground-shaking, “Hell, yes!”
I nodded in approval and held my stick out. My teammates circled me, tapping their sticks to mine. “On three…Bears!”
Someone counted, “One!”
Someone else counted, “Two!”
“Three!”
Every single hockey player on our roster yelled in unison, “Bears!”
My ears rang, and pride swelled in my chest. I’d never been one for navel-gazing, but with every win came the harsh realization that this might be the last time I stood in this locker room with this group of guys. It was enough to make me feel a little emotional, but I’d save that for later. We had a game to win.
The first period was a clusterfuck of inane mistakes, missed passes, and terrible shots on goal. Miraculously, I wasn’t one of the worst offenders. In fact, I was playing decent hockey. I even drew a penalty that gave us a brief advantage.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t turn it into a score. Northwestern had immobilized our biggest threat, double-teaming Ty and making it impossible to get the puck to him. We had to rely on Brady, Regan, and God help us…me. Needless to say, we were tied at zero till the middle of the second period when Northwestern’s star forward deked around me, then Pritchard, faked a pass, then proceeded to bury the puck in the net.
Coach called an immediate line change. I was sure he was going to skewer me with his patented “Don’t be a dumbass” glare as I stepped onto the rubber mat, but Coach’s lips twitched at one corner.
“Keep it up, Langley. We need your energy out there.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of that. I flopped onto the bench, sucking down water as I scanned the crowd. I spotted Walker and his friend, Robin, cheering like maniacs. Ty’s folks were here, and Jett and Malcolm, and…Rafe.
He didn’t bother pretending to watch the game. He was staring at me, and the moment he realized he’d been caught, I could have sworn I saw his blush from across the arena. He was with his friends, no sign of Eli. Thank fuck.
Just Celine, Jackson, and the girl who always reminded me that her name was spelled with an i. I never had the heart to tell her I’d forgotten her name again. Which was odd, ’cause she was a pretty girl, vivacious, and fun, and she stood out in a crowd.
Rafe, on the other hand, seemed to do whatever he could to blend in, and yet, I’d never been more aware of anyone in my life.
He’d come to other games in the past, but everything felt different somehow. We’d shared some pretty significant trauma, bonded over groceries and reruns of Dr. Who, and damn, we’d had some incredible sex.
Side “sex” note: This morning Rafe had clutched the bathroom counter, swiping at the steam fogging the mirror from the shower while I’d fucked him from behind. No condom. We’d been tested for our sports within a day of each other and had quickly connected the dots.
Well…Rafe had.
“If we don’t have sex with other people, we don’t have to use them,” he’d explained, fiddling with his glasses, his gaze trained on his cell. “To clarify…I haven’t had relations with anyone but you and I don’t intend to, but if you want—”
“I don’t. And you don’t have to clarify anything. It’s the same for me.”
“Oh. Okay. If you change your mind or you meet someone and—”
“I won’t.”
Rafe had frowned. “You don’t know that.”
“Shut up, Johannsen. I’m watching this show, and you’re ruinin’ it for me.”
That was it. He’d dropped the subject and soon after, we’d retired to his room to see what sex without a condom felt like. For the record…it was a-fucking-mazing.
Using condoms had been so ingrained in me that even in my messiest, drunkest state I wouldn’t forget to suit up. I could probably trace that fear directly to familial disapproval. My mom would have flipped her damn lid if my brothers or me had made her a grandmother out of wedlock. And yes, she still used words like wedlock.
Rafe was my first. To feel him with no barrier between us was extremely intimate. Weird observation since having your dick in someone’s ass was the definition of an intimate exchange. A little naked writhing mixed with shared personal experiences had catapulted us into something resembling a relationship. Not the lasting, hearts and flowers kind, but it was still pretty fucking cool.
Coach bellowed for another line change, jolting me into action.
The third period started out promising. Northwestern was getting sloppy, which led to a couple of power plays. Unfortunately, we couldn’t score to save our lives. Our shots flew wide, hit the bar, or in one case, careened against the glass. I did my best to shore up any gaps in defense and make myself available on offense, but I wasn’t sure I helped.