“The police just arrested her best friend, Ivy Bloodworth,” he says, and my eyes widen.
“Oh shit, that’s insane. Her best friend,” I say as the rest of the team comes out on the ice.
“Yep, wild shit,” Zimmerman tells me as he heads into the locker room to gear up.
“Alright, boys. Let’s do some sprints,” I yell out, looking around for Bash but don’t spot him anywhere. I smile underneath my helmet knowing his ass is still where I left him and excitement flows through my veins knowing when he does arrive, Coach is going to chew him out for missing practice.
I skate laps with the team, and it's not until we decide to run through the game plan for the next scrimmage that Bash busts through the doors, heading for the locker room.
“Corbit, go handle Vos,” Coach yells out, and I smirk. Gliding across the ice, I rip my helmet off as I pull the locker room door open, stepping inside. Walking down the rows of lockers, I finally spot him throwing his jersey over his head. I chuckle, and he stops–his eyes collide with mine, and I lick my lips.
“You’re late, Buttercup.” I smirk, and he growls.
“Was it hard for you to wake me up before you left?” he snarls, causing me to laugh harder.
“Was it hard? Yes. Did I care? No! Set your own damn alarm, Vos!” I spit, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fucking dick!” he mutters under his breath.
“The fuck you say?” I ask, walking closer to him. His body stills then whips around to face me.
“I said you’re a fucking dick. Are you hard of hearing?”
“Nah, I heard you perfectly fine. I just wanted you to say it to my face, Buttercup.” I grin, and he gets right in my face.
“Fucking dick,” he whispers, licking his plump lips.
“But you love this dick,” I fire back, raising a brow.
“Not as much as you love mine,” he counters, then grabs his stick and walks away.Oh, he’s feisty today. I take that as a challenge.I give him a minute to get on the ice and let Coach hand him his ass before I adjust my cock and head back out to the team.
Swinging the door open, Coach’s voice echoes around the arena, bringing a smile to my face. Skating over to them, I wait for the ass chewing to be done then I crack the whip.
“Let’s scrimmage,” I shout, but point to Bash. “Not you.” I laugh, and he growls.
“That’s bullshit,” he fires back, and I shrug.
“Next time, be on time to practice. Run them laps until I blow the whistle,” I order, and he huffs, skating to the opposite end of the rink and chucking his stick over the railing. Turning back to the team, I smile.
“Alright, let’s get it. Show me what you got, boys,” I yell out as me and Zimmerman face off with the puck. It’s usually me and Bash, but, oh well. There’s plenty of time for that. Coach blows the whistle, and I gain the puck with ease, gliding down the rink. I weave in and out of my teammates and shoot the puck into the goal.
“Faster, Vos, move those feet,” I taunt, laughing as I skate by Bash. We continue the scrimmage until the coach blows the whistle, letting us know it’s time to head for the showers. I sit on the bench as the others disperse and watch Bash go up and down the rink getting slower by the minute. “Come on, pick up the pace. Stop being a bitch. You want to be the best of the best, but all I see is the worst of the worst. Pansy,” I yell, and his eyes collide with mine. So much malice and anger behind them which only makes me chuckle.
“Fuck you, Zan!” he yells breathlessly.
“The slower you go, the longer you will be here. Come on! PICK IT UP!” I yell, and he roars, sliding against the ice, losing his footing, and falling to his knees. I laugh. “Pathetic!” I tell him, skating over to him. “You fucking suck!” I spit before I skate off the ice and head into the locker room. The door swings open and everyone heads out. I walk to my locker and start stripping from my gear. Ripping the whistle from my neck, I blow into it and smile as I place it on the shelf.Maybe he heard it, maybe he didn’t… oh well.
Grabbing my clothes, I walk over to the showers and turn one on to the hottest it can go. Once steam starts to cloud the space, I stand under the spray and let the hot water ease my muscles. I do my thing then shut the water off and wrap a towelaround my waist. Drying off, I slide sweats on and throw a shirt over my head. I walk back to my locker to grab my things and see Bash stripping from his gear.
“Did you really have to be like that in front of everyone?” he asks, and I laugh.
“Yes, I’m the captain. You know this,” I answer, and he snarls.
“It’s bullshit. You fucking set me up and you know it!” he snaps, and I chuckle.
“Whatever you say, Buttercup. Be grateful it wasn’t worse.”
“Always a dick!” he mutters.
