Coty shakes his head.But I have those things too.It must be your new flow.He musses my hair, and I knock his hand away.
Don’t touch the hair.I push the layers back in place.Am I particular about my appearance?Well, yeah, but as far as character flaws go, I figure it’s a minor one.Because it’s tough being the captain and a role model for the younger players.
Mats joins us at centre ice.That went great.The teachers want to do this again, and the kids loved us.
And some of the moms too,Coty quips.
Leave it alone,I groan.Besides, I would never go out with an older woman.
Mats gives us a puzzled look, then surveys the ice.Man, doesn’t it feel great to be out here?
I nod.I can’t wait until the season actually starts and we can be on the ice daily.I hate this time of the year when our on-ice practice time is limited by NCAA rules.
Why don’t we do a few laps?Sinc suggests.If Coach catches us, he’ll be pissed, but it’s hard to resist an empty sheet of ice.But even Mats, who’s big on following rules, looks tempted.We grab our sticks and start skating.
Almost immediately I slow, unable to fully extend my stride.
Zee, you’re skating like an old man.What’s wrong?Coty asks.
Some woman elbowed me in the balls last night and I’m still sore,I complain.
He laughs.Mon ami, you must learn that no means no.
It wasn’t like that.We were in the library, and I asked her for a book.I startled her and she reacted by—I motion towards my poor testicles.
Now Coty is howling with laughter, so Sinc and Mats skate over to find out what is so funny.Then I have to explain again.
How bad was it?Mats asks.
I was lying on the floor of the library!And I could hardly breathe.It hurt so fucking much,I say.
Sinc chimes in with a story of getting kicked during a soccer game.Then Mats recalls getting hit with a puck so hard that his athletic protector cracked.Hilariously, whenever one of us gets to the painful part of the story, the others automatically wince and cover their junk.
But Zee, isn’t your manhood so impressive that women swoon in its presence?Coty teases.
Not this woman.She was pretty with a heart-shaped face and big grey-green eyes.But she had also been spectacularly uninterested, and I can take a hint.
Wally is already gone, so the four of us head home afterwards.
There are three hockey houses in a row in St.Viola.Coty and I live in the largest one.Three of my roommates are the same as last year: Coty, Wally, and forward Ross Murphy.Forwards Joe Greco and Dylan Johansson just moved in.
Coty and I head to the kitchen and grab a drink once we get home.
Two on-ice sessions with kids, and I’m exhausted.What does this say about my game fitness?he wonders.
No, I’m the same.It was like herding cats.Kids are fun, but they’re non-stop energy.
I think I’ll take a nap,Coty says.
Good idea,I agree.One of the superpowers of hockey players is our ability to take afternoon naps.It’s a great way to refresh before a big game, or just recharge, period.
I close my drapes, strip off my clothes, and slip under my cool sheets.I grab my phone and begin my new routine: check the family group chat, check the news in Ukraine, check my email.Nothing new, and the wait for information is agonizing.The worst thing is allowing my imagination to go wild.I set my phone aside and close my eyes, willing myself into unconsciousness.
I jerk awake to a painful sensation in my balls.My cock is rock-hard.As I swim back to consciousness, I sense that I’m not alone.
What the fuck?I mumble.
Relax, Vik.It’s just me,purrs a sultry voice I recognize.
