Page 3 of Bitter Pucking Rivals

Cato eggs on the pseudo-criticism. “Ooh,” he says, “what a burn. You’re not just gonna stand there and take it, are you, Dom-man?”

My loud and brash teammate shuts up for a couple of seconds, feigning shock. He then brings out his phone and starts playing a song I vaguely recognize. “Well, if you want me to step it up, Mr. Jared Pullman… you should have just said so.” Dom emulates the low and sultry voice of a seductress as he strips off his jacket, wearing the white tank top he’s wearing underneath. Slowly, he starts to dance to the rather sensual jazz song that’s playing—although calling itdancingis a bit of a stretch. Admittedly, Dom is stiff as a board, but he’s making up for it by showing off his muscles. And Dom’s got some really nice and toned ones if I do say so myself…

I feel my eyes go wide as I process where I’ve just let my thoughts roam.I’m not… I’m not checking him out, am I?Then again, it’s kind of hardnotto check Dom out when the rest of the team is encouraging his dancing, as sexy as it may or may not be.

“Yeah, Dom-man! Woot woot!” Evan’s now along for the ride, and the more seniors who cheer for this whole charade, the more it gets chaotic. Now even the quiet kids are whooping for Dom’s lunacy.

“Take it off,” Declan jokes. “Take it off!” He can’t keep his chant up for long, though, as he’s overcome with laughter and bursts out into what can only be described as a cackle.

As for me? Well, I can’t help but be overwhelmed. I’m not here to spoil anyone’s fun, but I literally just woke up and now Dom’s dancing like a stripper as he moves forwards and backwards down the aisles of the bus. Usually, I’d just ignore Dom. But when you’re stuck on a moving vehicle with him, he’s pretty hard to ignore. And not to mention that his figure is a sight for sore eyes. I try to avoid lingering stares in the locker room, but the sight of Dom’s sculpted physique makes me flash through images of my teammates. Their ripped abs. Their defined triceps. Their strong quads. The way their biceps flex when?—

I shake my head, needing to rid my mind of these thoughts. This isn’t like me. I’ve never looked at any of my teammates that way before, and I shouldn’t look at them that way now. Yes, they’re objectively handsome. If the whole team made a thirst trap calendar, the puck bunnies on campus and throughout the city would likely sell the copies out in one day. But I’m not attracted to their bodies; I’m only stating facts. Yeah, that’s it.Facts. By admitting how good looking some of my teammates are, I’m just telling the truth.

Tuning out of the show ahead of me, I turn to the window and watch the endless roads spanning out in both directions. Those roads remind me of possibilities. Of choices. Of new directions.

CHAPTER FOUR

12:01 pm

HAYDEN

We’re aroundfive hours into this long ass trip, and there’s this place that Coach Edmund scheduled for us to stop at for lunch: Hattie’s Diner. Hattie’s is the actual epitome of a middle-of-nowhere-hole-in-the-wall; it’s quite literally a giant gas station with a huge diner attached, every inch of which is decorated in garish memorabilia that looks like it’s from the 1950s. The floor is a checkered black and white, while the counters, tables, and booths are all a bright red Formica. On the walls and ceilings hang bright neon lights, which makes this place look dated and charming—at the same damn time.

We all take up several booths as we get our fill. Our collective energy is boundless, but my personal vibe is a little low at the moment. I’m rattled by the thoughts I’d had back on the bus; I can’t begin to process the heaviness of it right now. I just hope the other guys don’t notice.

“Well, you’re a lot less snarky today, Hayden,” Declan says. There goes my hope of flying under the radar. “Is something up?” Declan is sitting right next to me, so it’s not exactly a surprise that my being quieter than usual has gotten his attention.

I take a sip of my milkshake. It’s dense and probably contains more sugar than I typically have in a week, but I couldn’t come to a retro diner andnotorder one. “No, yeah, I’m fine,” I lie without a second thought.What was I supposed to say? That I was thinking about their bodies for a good five minutes back in the bus?I don’t even know how they’d react to that, much less what they’d think going forward. So, the best course of action here is to just make something up. “I think road trips just burn me out.”

“I feel that,” Declan says, not seeming to pick up on my fib. “Sitting around on a bus for hours and hours gets to you.”

“You should get some air while we’re stopped. That should help give you a second wind.” Ansel’s suggestion is perfectly kind and valid, but it only serves to make me feel even guiltier for the way I’ve just lied.

I find myself staring outside the diner, seeing the cars pass by as the wind blows through the trees. I haven’t seen this much greenery in a while. “You know what,” I say after a moment, "I just might.” I take a final sip of my milkshake before standing up. Without making much of a fuss, I quietly exit the restaurant, leaving the rest of the guys to eat their waffles and sundaes in peace.

As I step outside, the air is crisp; it’s the very epitome of autumn’s cool embrace. The leaves flutter in shades of oranges and reds as they hang on by a thread, the trees themselves nearly ready to shed for the year. I walk around a little bit, being sure not to stray too far away from the bus that’s parked next to the “convenience” store that really looks more like a supermarket complex. It’s a pleasant surprise when I find a bench I can sit on a little ways from the diner.

“Well, Hayden, look how far you’ve come,” I say to myself as I sprawl out on the bench. After a deep inhale and an even deeper exhale, I feel my body release some of the tension that has been building. And not just today, since my intrusive thoughts on the bus, but also the tension that’s been building as I realize my college career is over. When preparing to become a college athlete, plenty of people told me that it would be physically and mentally taxing. But what people didn’t adequately warn me about was just how much it would fly by in the blink of an eye.

The thought of being considered a full-fledged adult in just a few months is daunting. Just when I truly feel settled in this phase of life, a different phase is right around the corner. I would never say this to my teammates, but I’ve grown fond of waking up every day and looking forward to hockey practice, and then coming home and seeing Ansel at his desk, racking his brain as he does his homework. Right next door, Dom and Evan are always either eating something gross and unhealthy that they will share with us, or maybe they’ll barge in through our door just to show us a funny video they saw on the internet. I guess it’s kind of a small life, but it’s one that I’ve come to love. I’m not quite ready to give this routine up.

The cold air billows through my air, reminding me of what a privilege it is to be here right now. The bad news is that I can’t stop the passage of time. The good news is that I can allow myself to be a little sad about that. The best news? Well, I can make the most of my remaining time in college—before this chapter of my life is done forever. However, there’s always been a little regret about my college career, if I’m being honest. Seeing Ansel and Dom be so happy in their new relationships has highlighted how I’ve never pursued a serious relationship with anyone I’ve been with. There were a few girlfriends here and there, of course, but even then, I never really felt that connected to them. They were spectacular ladies, but I just didn’t love them in the way that Ansel loves Aria or Dom loves Maisie.

The guys, as rowdy and obnoxious as they are, are more emotionally intelligent than a stranger might think. They try to cheer me up sometimes, saying that there’s someone out there for me, insisting I just have to be open to it. And maybe they’re right, but I’m tired of hearing that. Sometimes, love just sucks for people, and I feel like I’m meant to be one of those people who is unlucky in love.

“You look like someone just kicked your dog.” An unfamiliar voice calls out to me from behind. Immediately, I turn around, thinking it may well be a stranger who’s up to no good. Standing a few feet away from me is a guy with a devious smirk, staring me down as if my contemplative moment is the most amusing thing he’s seen all day. I’m right that the guy is up to no good, but he’s no stranger. “What are you doing all the way out here, away from the protection of your Seagull friends, Hayden Parker?”

It’s the goalie of the Wildwood Wolverines, the one who’s blocked every single one of my shots thus far in the season. I only really know his last name from his jersey as I’ve never bothered to look him up. Clearly, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him, considering he already knows my name. There’s a dangerous glint in his blue eyes that instantly sets me off, almost like he’s looking down on me.

“Careful out here, Sanders. You might be roadkill if you don’t look where you’re going,” I reply with the driest tone I can muster. Come to think of it, up until now, I haven’t been that snarky today. Dom’s usually my target for any sarcasm I need to get out of my system, but the universe has provided me with a fresh target on this lovely autumn day. “Where’s the rest of your weasel friends? Tucked their tails and ran home already?”

To my surprise, Sanders lets out a chuckle and sits down on the opposite side of the bench with me. “Your mouth’s always so venomous, you know that?” He crosses his legs by putting his left ankle on his right knee. “Makes me wanna shut you up real nice.”

I roll my eyes at his retort, not buying it whatsoever. I look back to the convenience store the size of a chain mall and see some of his teammates messing around with each other. I’m pretty sure that their team captain, Xavier, just slid an ice cube down one of their newer recruits, which is currently causing them to erupt with laughter. I look back to the guy right next to me, not really knowing what to say. This is the first time we’ve talked to each other outside the rink. Coach Edmund did say that this training camp is a chance for all the teams to establish friendships with one another, so maybe dialing up the snappiness isn’t the right play here.

I let out a breath, trying to collect myself. We’re not in the rink, so there’s no point in trying to trash talk this guy. “Sorry,” I say. “This has just been a really long trip.” I’m not sure that my apology will buy me any good favor, and I want to scratch my eyes out when Sanders lets my words hang in the air for an awkwardly long beat of time.

At last he chortles, his body relaxing as he pulls his hood off and reveals a mop of dirty blonde hair. From the side, I can clearly see the outline of his jaw, with its sharp lines that complement his nose and—Wait, what the fuck am I thinking about right now?

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