Page 14 of Nodus Tollens
“You good?” Mal questioned over Cruz’s horrendous attempt at singing ‘We are the Champions.’ He gave me a light shove to capture my attention, but my stare was intent on remaining unfocused and elsewhere.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I responded when suddenly I was pelted in the chest by a flash of white. I had a feeling I already knew what it was, but I still found myself peering down at my feet. A white lacy thong was sprawled out partly on my shoe while the other half was on the stage. The old me would have probably picked up the panties and shoved them into my pocket. Our female fans weren’t exactly subtle with their attempts to attract us, and for most of the guys, it didn’t take much to capture our attention. With the flick of my ankle, I had the fabric tossed a few feet beside me, where Locke caught the sight of it and, of course, picked it up.
“Christ.” Mal muttered under his breath. “Come on, you look tense as hell.” Mal went on as he slowly dragged me by the shoulder towards the back of the stage. I willingly went with him until we were far enough back the roars of the crowd dimmed. “What’s goin’ on with you?” His dark gaze met mine as my stare took in the jagged scar that ran through his eyebrow. It’s been a couple weeks since he was struck in the face, but finally, it seemed like it was almost fully healed.
Sighing, I drug a palm through my hair, realizing I wasn’t going to get away with shit around Mal. He knew me better than I knew myself, and right now, I could sense the confusion in the way he was observing me. Tonight wasn’t just about partying and getting shitfaced. It was put in place to get our blood pumping and our energy high for our upcoming season. It was a way to stir up the fans and get them ready. Their main goal was to hype us up and boost our egos. So obviously, it was easy for Mal to recognize that something was off with me. Especially, when in the past, I was known to go a little overboard on stage. But tonight, none of what my teammates were doing appealed to me. Instead, I just felt lost.
How were they not getting sick of doing the same shit over and over?
No one really knew who we were individually, and hockey certainly made sure of that too. There has always been a stereotype about the college hockey player. We were seen as the alpha male type, who could get any woman we wanted, hot heads, egotistical, you name it. It was as if everyone else concluded that’s how we were, and no one really tried or cared to get to know us. The real us. For once, I didn’t want to be known as Decker, the hot shot center who was going places. I wanted to be a normal, average guy who others could make their own assumptions about without having hockey as a means for them to judge me. Maybe then I could finally find what I’ve been missing.
“Is it your pops?” Mal questioned, catching me off guard and causing a painful jab to expand throughout my gut. The wound was still fresh, and I constantly tried to burrow my worries deep inside myself. For the most part, I’ve done okay with not overthinking, but with each passing day, my uneasiness about it all was worsening. Maybe that was a reason for my sudden withdrawal from a sport I used to not be able to breathe without. Maybe the day my dad lost a part of himself, I lost a part of myself, too.
“No, it’s not him. I’m just not feelin’ it tonight, you know?” I explained with a shoulder shrug and a sudden urge to flee off this stage and drive back home. Ever since his diagnosis, I hadn’t been the same. It’s been a fight every day, trying to find the joy in things when your mind is elsewhere. My desperate attempts at finding distractions were like putting band-aids over a bullet hole. Nothing was working, and even now, all I could think about was how I could be spending this time with my dad instead of being here, surrounded by people who only admired my game and not the real me.
“Yeah, I’m not really feelin’ it tonight either.” Mal agreed, though I could sense a slight buzz fluttering in his eyes as he awkwardly shoved his hands into his jean pockets. Before the diagnosis, before my sudden aversion to hockey, I was someone who was considered outgoing. I was social, friendly, and part of that was still true, but even at my worst, I would never compare to Mal. The broody motherfucker was about as antisocial and reclusive as they come. His size didn’t exactly make him appear approachable either, but it definitely didn’t help that his face was kept permanently in a scowl. He was the biggest guy on the team, and on the outside, he seemed like a force to be reckoned with, but unbeknownst to him, I knew he was secretly a softie on the inside. “Fuck… Someone really needs to take the microphone away from Cruz.” Mal groaned as his head shook in more embarrassment than amusement. His singing was getting sloppier, and the way he butchered the chorus made me inwardly cringe. To my surprise, though, the crowd couldn’t get enough of it. They loved it, and soon, a few more guys joined in, creating one big massacre of ear-splitting singing. My mouth twitched slightly when Locke’s usual deep tone tried to hit a higher note, and it came out more like a dying animal. It was comical, for sure, but my head just wasn’t in it tonight. Laughter seemed like a rarity these days, and even then, it appeared forced.
“You know how he gets.” I shrugged while peering back at Mal, who lifted his ratty hat off his head and combed a hand through his overgrown hair.
“You mean is...” He added in his tone that would easily run a lion off. Fucker was intimidating as hell. “Bout time you replaced his ass.” He grumbled.
This wasn’t the first time Mal brought this topic up. You see, Mal was a complex guy and not everyone got along with him. Granted, he wasn’t exactly welcoming, but there was much more to him than what lingered beneath the surface that no one ever saw. What Mal struggled with was always butting heads with the alpha male, leader type of guys that he came across. Cruz was no different, and for some reason, he always had it out for Mal. He rode his ass every practice and singled him out whenever there was a fuck up on the ice. Mal didn’t take shit from anyone, but he was smart enough to know that pissing off Cruz wouldn’t be good on his part. Though, you knew he was silently raging like a feral beast on the inside, he never once retorted back. Malachi Villareal wasn’t fazed by someone trying to tear him down. If anything, it made him play harder.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “With all the shit you put up with, I think you’d make a better cap than me.”
“Ha.” He snorted. “Can you imagine? Me, the fuckin’ captain? I’d rather take a puck to the dick.”
“So, you’re saying if coach came up to you right now and said Cruz was out and he wanted you to step up, you’d say no?” I lifted a brow, and noticed the shift in his expression as if my question was slowly sinking in.
“Fuck… I don’t know. I’m not really cap material.”
“And you think I am?”
There was a zero percent chance of me ever being captain. One, I wasn’t cut out to be a leader. Two, I didn’t want to be captain. Even before everything, I knew I’d never be good enough for that role. I didn’t need the added burden of carrying the whole team, let alone being the face of the Vipers.
No thanks.
“I think if you wanted to, you could.” He responded with a tilt of his bearded chin and glanced over my shoulder briefly. “At this point, anyone, and I mean fucking anyone, would be better than that.” He gestured to the scene behind me, and before I even turned, I heard a loud commotion of screams. I wouldn’t even call it screams because, to me, it sounded more like a fucking orgy of feminine cries. On the stage, a kneeling brunette was practically breaking her neck, peering up into Cruz’s eyes, who was now shirtless and gripping the girl’s ponytail in a tight grip.
Jesus Christ. What the fuck is he doing?
Using her hair as leverage, he energetically yanked her up higher onto her knees, where her mouth was now in line with his belly button. Her body, now taut and vibrating in anticipation, she placed her tiny palms onto his knees for support. Why was no one shutting this shit down? Surely, I wasn’t the only one thinking he was about to whip his cock out?
With the microphone in one hand, he took the other and slowly pried open her mouth with his fingers until her jaw was spread into the shape of an ‘O’.
“You thirsty, baby?” He rumbled in a voice that was reserved for the bedroom. The girl at his feet practically began to foam at the mouth as she arched herself further into Cruz. If her eager movements weren’t enough to convince you she wanted whatever Cruz was about to give her, then the sight of her tongue dipping across his lower belly sure as hell would be. His head tipped back on a grin, and as if on cue, the crowd went crazy.
“CRUZ!!” They all bellowed while gradually turning his name into a frenzied mantra. I then scanned over the rest of my teammates to see their reactions, and I found most the guys watching the scene with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. At least I wasn’t the only one thinking that. Either he was seconds away from filling that pretty girl’s mouth, or he was just really good at teasing the crowd. Whatever it was sparked an infectious flame in everyone until Cruz finally motioned Locke to go over to him. As if he already knew what to do, Locke lifted his can of beer until it was barely grazing right below his neck and, with a slight tilt, had the liquid cascading down his chest.
“What the fuck am I watching right now?” Mal growled beside me. Neither of us were saints. We both had our fair share of wild sexescapades and were well versed in the scene before us. Only difference was we weren’t flaunting it in front of a hundred of fans. Though Cruz technically wasn’t having his dick serviced at the moment, it definitely was close enough to cause a chastising from the coach and other board members. We had a certain image to maintain, but when you have high-strung hockey players, who are still reeling off a previous championship year, there’s no telling what kind of crazy shit will transpire.
The puck bunny at Cruz’s feet impatiently lifted herself higher with the tops of her toes while dragging her bottom lip up his stomach as if she couldn’t get enough of the stream of beer falling into her mouth. She sure as shit was putting on one hell of a show for everyone. Even Mal wasn’t immune to watching an overly-eager woman, and despite the way his eyes fought to look away, they ultimately glued themselves back onto scene in front of us. She knew what she was doing. Her hips slowly swaying as she rocked herself up and down on her toes, lapping wildly at Cruz’s chest. Girls like her demanded our attention. They’d do anything, and I mean anything, to get us reeled into their web, and from the way Cruz’s corded neck fell back on a throaty groan, you knew she had him hooked. It wouldn’t be long before he’d cut the night short to steal the tiny, little brunette away for a little one-on-one time.
Tearing my eyes away from them, I began walking off the back of the stage. With Mal on my tail, I knew I wouldn’t get far, but I was tired of this life. Why did everything seem so fucking meaningless now?
“Woah, Hayes, slow down.” Mal yanked on the collar of my jersey and jerked me back. Times like these, I hated how much bigger than me he was. Built like an ox, he rarely used his size against me, but when he did, I felt like a fucking child.
“I don’t need you following me everywhere I go. I already told you I’m fine.” I tried to stress that to him, but concern was etched all over his rugged face. With his dark brows hovering closely over his eyes, he dropped his hand from my jersey.
