Page 93 of Seven Year Itch
Puck Drop
Calder
The ref blows the whistle signaling our first intermission is over, and I skate out onto the ice, girding my nut sack for another beating. The score is three to nil, and I’m a sweaty fucking mess as I hunch over and stare at the guy I’m facing off with. This is supposed to be a beer league, and I haven’t seen one of these athletic assholes on the other team crack a single drink.
“God, I’m tired,” the guy croaks from behind his plastic shield.
Finally! A human moment from one of these dudes. “Me too, buddy. Me too,” I lament.
He stands up straight and flips his helmet up. “I’m seventy-two-years-old. What’s your excuse?”
My face falls as I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling truly humbled by an old man.
“Can you just drop the puck already?” I snap at the ref, and before I can even get my stick on it the old man rams his shoulder into me and passes the puck off to one of his teammates.
They tear down the ice toward our goal, so I recover and bend and tuck, busting my ass to try to catch up to them, picking up a little more speed than I’m used to. When I reach the old man, I miraculously manage to steal back the puck and attempt to volley it behind our goalie to pass it off to my teammates. But a body checks me, and I feel myself hurtling toward the boards, unable to brake. I brace myself for impact, but my eyes catch sight of a familiar blonde right before I splatter across the glass.
“Dakota?” I murmur, my face smushed against the clear barrieras three guys press into my back, their sticks thwacking the ice by my feet, trying to steal the puck from me.
“Go, Killer Calder!” She claps her hands in front of her and cheers like it’s totally fucking normal for her to be here right now.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is muffled by the barrier as I get ass-fucked by a seventy-year-old who really wants this puck... and my dignity.
“I’m here to cheer you on! You’re doing great.” She shoots me two very enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Go, sports!”
Finally, one of my teammates sweep the puck out from beneath my skates, and I topple backward onto my ass as the pack breaks away to the other side of the ice.
“Hey, Dakota!” Luke skates over and stops swiftly, spraying a cloud of ice shavings over my helmet.
“Oh hi, Luke! I didn’t know you played too,” Dakota says as Luke awkwardly helps me up off the ground.
“Yeah... they wouldn’t let Calder on the team if I didn’t join.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I shove my brother, and he chuckles before skating away to rejoin the game.
“This is the third ice arena I’ve been to in Denver,” Dakota says, chatting animatedly like I’m not in the middle of a game. “You were not easy to find.”
“That’s because I didn’t want to be found!” I seethe, irritation simmering in my veins.
It’s bad enough Luke sees me suck ass on the ice, I don’t need the girl I’m currently banging to witness my humiliation. I’ve considered quitting multiple times, but I keep thinking one of these years, I’m going to get better. It’s just a shame everyone else seems to get better too.
“I gotta go,” I bite out, skating away and hating the fact that I feel like I have to try harder, skate faster... suck less. This is why I don’t do well with girlfriends. I don’t like them to see me when I’m not at my best. And unfortunately, my best has never been hockey. It’s too bad sex isn’t a competitive sport. I’d nail that competition.
Irritation niggles at me as I trip and flounder on the ice, sucking like usual, and by the time the whistle blows for our second intermission, rage is simmering in my veins. The guys all haul ass to the bench for a beer, and I catch Dakota’s eye and point to the hallway that leads to the locker room.
I unlatch the gate at the ice and make my way down the rubber-matted hall in an attempt to get out of earshot. When Dakota finally joins me, my temper boils over. “Why the fuck are you here?”
“To watch your big match!” She whacks my arm playfully, trying to be funny, but I do not find this funny.
I scowl back at her. “You know I don’t like anyone to come to these things.”
“Oh come on... this is fun! There are other spectators here.”
I look up and see we’re drawing the eyes of everyone around us, and I even spot Luke peering over, trying to eavesdrop on our conversation.
With a low growl, I tuck one of my gloves under my arm with my stick and grab Dakota’s hand to pull her through the hallway until we’re in the locker room. When the door closes and we’re encased in the cold, smelly concrete space, I turn and narrow my eyes at her. “Why are you fucking with me?”
“I’m not!” She leans her back against the white brick wall, and I can’t help but notice the low cut of her sweater under her long coat. She’s wearing a plaid skirt and little ankle boots, and she looks fucking sexy, which just pisses me off more.
