Page 48 of Redeeming the Villain

Not giving myself any time to second-guess or overthink, I release her neck, pull away, and step toward the door.

In one swift movement, I throw it open and disappear into the hallway.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I stride down the hall, much smoother than the trip to her room the first time, sobering up faster each second.

Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. I should NOT have done that.

What was I thinking?

* * *

It’s been two days since I drunkenly wandered into Alora’s room. Two days since I had my hand on her waist, the other around her throat with her lips brushing against mine.

It’s only been two days, and it’s felt like for-fucking-ever. I’ve been distracting myself from the inevitable awkward encounter, skipping all my classes and staying glued to the ice. It’s helped so far, although I know I can’t do it forever. But another day or so won’t hurt.

Besides, we have a big game tonight, and I need to be on top of it. We’re playing the Titans, one of the best teams in collegiate hockey right now. They are ranked number one in scoring.

Not only will we need to get pucks deep in the net to counteract any of their goals, but we’ll also need to be on our toes to stop them from scoring at all. The problem is, they don’t have two or three players that do the majority of scoring that we can stay on top of; it comes from multiple players on each line.

I know we’re the better team. That’s not a question. But I don’t want to win by one. I want to dominate them from beginning to end.

Before games, I usually mentally lock in by messing around with the guys—either by kicking around a soccer ball or a Hacky Sack to pass the time. Thankfully, that helps keep my mind distracted.

I just need to get out of my head and try to forget about what happened. But, fuck, I don’t think I can.

Which doesn’t do anything to help the hatred I feel any less confusing. How can I want someone so badly and loathe them at the same time? Make it make sense.

After warm-ups, the starters set up for puck drop at center ice.

It’s a blood battle from the very beginning, every player out there working their bodies to the max. By the time the first period ends, no one has scored, but everyone is gassed. The exhaustion doesn’t matter though; it fades quickly, replaced with the desire to win.

The second period starts off just as equally matched. Blow for blow. Shot for shot. Block for block. We need an edge, an advantage to push us over the wall.

This is where I come in occasionally. Not forced by any coach or teammate. A decision made all on my own. One Ilovemaking.

Number thirty-one has been picking on Asher all night. I already gave him a warning. But the next time I see it, I’m crushing him into the ice. I’m making a scene, making him regret ever touching Ash. As a bonus, it will rile the team up and hopefully push the momentum our way. I’ll take the penalty happily, every day of the week.

Finny blocks one of their shots, and it rebounds right near me. Taking it with my stick, I skate around the goal as their team makes a move to change a few of their players.

We take full advantage of the opportunity.

Elias taps his stick on the ice up ahead, and my body moves in sync with my thoughts as I pass the puck through the neutral zone. It glides effortlessly, landing right on the end of his stick, and he sinks into our offensive zone.

Asher flies into the zone on the other side, only one defender between the two Legends.

Elias passes it to Asher, who overexaggerates and pulls back the puck like he’s going to shoot, but at the last second, he fires it back to Elias, who tips it midair past their goalie and into the net.

One of the Titans players is racing toward Elias, who has his arms in the air, celebrating.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I shout, gaining speed and catching up to him.

He checks into Elias and sends him flying awkwardly into the boards. He collides with a deafening thud.

And all hell breaks loose.

Wrapping my arm around the soon-to-be dead guy’s neck, I yank him backward, far away from Elias, who is still lying on the ice. His helmet comes undone and falls off.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that,” I promise him.

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