Page 149 of Stick It
Teeth grinding, Kyle glares first at the top of Ethan’s head and then at me, before storming off with his tray in hand. At the far end of the table, beside Fletcher and Monroe, he drops it with a loud clatter before glaring at his food until conversations start up once again.
Sighing, Finn ducks his head, elbows resting on the table.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, so quietly that I nearly miss it. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He never used to be like that. Competitive, sure, what hockey player isn’t, but not to the point of going after a player off the ice.”
“Some men just can’t handle the fact that a woman is better than they are.”
Finn looks up at me, brows furrowed low over his eyes. “I don’t think?—”
“You said it yourself,” I cut him off. “He’s never gone after any other player, then suddenly a woman shows up who is better than him. Sure, the stakes are higher—it’s college and you’re in your senior year—but even if I hadn’t shown up, Kylestillisn’t good enough to go pro. Best he could hope for is a farm team, but you and I both know he doesn’t have the skill, the drive, or the passion to make it big.”
Finn purses his lips, but he doesn’t disagree. If anything, Ican tell he’s really thinking over what I’ve said, perhaps seeing Kyle in a new light—seeing therealKyle instead of the preteen version he knew once upon a time.
The overhead lights cast long shadows across the ice, the silence of the empty stands pressing in around us. The arena is ours for the taking.
This has become my favorite part of the week. Something that I used to partake in alone. Then there was Griffin—at first a silent witness to my self-directed practices, then as an ally on the ice. Now, it’s all of us.
Five bodies moving across the ice, five players working in sync. No one keeping score. No one holding back. Just us, training, refining, and bettering each other.
Every night after dinner this week, we have come out here. When the guys first suggested it, I’d been nervous. This wasmything. My quiet time away from the world. Sure, Griffin had wormed his way into it, but Griffin is quiet. He keeps to himself. I knew the others wouldn’t be like that, and I was right. Ethan immediately went into captain mode, ordering everyone to warm up before putting us through drills.
Even though my previous solitude has become loud chaos, I find myself stopping frequently to watch Jax and Griffin walk through plays, Finn showing off, and Ethan frowning while he completes a move. Often with a small smile on my face. Solitary practices weren’t my norm growing up. It was always me and my dad—maybe another kid or two skating about. They were loud, filled with laughter amongst the teachings. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that while playing hockey, I was supposed to be having fun.
These nights, these practices with just the five of us…they are the most fun I’ve had in years.
“Come on, Menace. Try and get past me,” Jax calls as he skates past. Grin on my face, I race after him. He flips so he’s skating backward, smirking cockily as I close the distance between us.
“What do I get when I win?” I ask, deliberately holding back, moving the puck side to side as we glide across the ice.
He smirks. “You can touch me anywhere you want.”
Despite the cold, my body heats. He’s been doing that all week—taunting me, teasing, saying dirty things that he knows get a reaction out of me. However, he has yet to actually follow through. Instead, he gets me all worked up to leave me hanging. Sadistic asshole.
I scoff. “Like you’d protest to my hands on your body.”
He winks, and I love this playful side to him. He keeps it carefully tucked away, only really bringing it out when we’re alone or with the guys. I never see it on campus, when we are surrounded by students or the rest of the team. It makes it that much more special. Makesmefeel special.
“All right,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “And what do you get if you win? Which you won’t, but hypothetically speaking.”
“Hypothetically speaking, I get to touchyouanywhereIwant.”
A shiver rolls through me, before I smirk coyly. “Too bad you won’t be winning.”
I put on a burst of speed. Dropping my shoulder, I explode forward, faking right before cutting left, slipping past him before he can react.
“Fuck,” I hear him curse before spinning to chase me down. My triumphant laugh turns into a squeal as I push faster. Despite his size, Jax is lightning on the ice. I’m fast, but somehow he manages to catch up. I feel the whisper of hisfingers against the back of my jersey before his arms band around me from behind, lifting me off the ice before slowly setting me back down. He keeps his arms wrapped around my waist, his skates framing mine as we glide across the ice together.
Reaching the boards, he turns me to face him, backing me against the glass. “I won,” I say, breathless, and not just from the burst of exertion. Tapping my gloves against his, where his hands are bracketing my hips, I whisper, “That meansIget to touchyou.”
Unfazed by his loss, he smirks, letting go of me only so he can plant his hands on the glass above my head. It only serves to bring him closer, his stance widening as his body comes within inches of mine. His cedarwood and mint scent invades my space, and for the first time ever in hockey, I find myself wishing I’d lost. That’s how insane these boys make me.
Ducking his head, his breath fans across my cheek as he brings his lips to my ear. “Go ahead, then.Claim your prize.”
I shiver. The notion of Jax as a prize, a present to unwrap…it has me clenching my thighs. I blink up at him through my lashes. I must look anything other than sexy in my oversized hockey gear and wearing a helmet, sweat glistening on my skin, but he looks at me like I’m all he sees. Like I’m the only thingworthseeing. It momentarily stalls the air in my lungs and makes my brain glitch.
Lifting my hand, my glove hovers inches above his chest. His gaze shifts to watch, his chest rising and falling heavily, like he’s as anxious to feel my touch as I am to touch him. We’ve been playing video games, talking, spending time together all week, but neither of us has initiated anything physical. None of them have, except Griffin, who avails of every opportunity to drape himself over me, kiss me publicly, and tease me whenwe’re at home. I’m pretty sure he’s getting a kick out of pissing the guys off.
Holding my hand there, I flick my gaze to his, waiting until he looks at me. “Hmm, I don’t recall there being a time limit on this deal.” Ducking under his arm, I spin to face him, grinning impishly. “I think I’llclaim my prizeanother time.”
