Maybe it’s because at practice, he’s always sweating and yelling, right in my face, all pissed off. I’d watch those little droplets fall down the side of his temple, volume turned off—couldn’t tell you why I was being yelled at.
Turned me on.
I guess I have an authority kink. Or maybe I just like the idea of him telling me what to do in that deep voice while looking at me like I’m two seconds from ruining his entire life.
So, whatever, I noticed he's hot.
That's fine. That's allowed. That's just eyes working as they should. Jamie Nash is objectively, aggressively, almost offensively attractive and I have been close enough to him to confirm this and apparently somewhere between hating him and being told to stop hating him I dropped my guard long enough to let that actually seep into my subconscious.
That's it. That's all this is.
We got along for an hour. He was decent to me for an hour and I wasn't a complete asshole and we had one practice where the ice between us felt like something other than us wanting to choke each other out and my stupid brain decided to reward that by noticing the way he looks and the feel of his hands and the laugh lines I've never seen before because he's never smiledat mebefore.
I keep telling myself he’s just another problem to survive. But he smiles at me one time and I suddenly forget every good decision I’ve ever made.
Maybe we can find a happy medium. Put hockey between us like a wall and figure out how to coexist without wanting to kill each other. Everyone’s tired of our shit anyway. I know the team feels it every time we’re in the same room. But I cannot, under any circumstances, notice Jamie Nash like that again.
Number one: he’s straight.
Number two: he hates me.
Number three: it’s a horrible idea.
Number four: he’s the captain.
Number five: he has zero personality.
And yet, somehow, I think I’ve completely forgotten how to count.
Chapter 8
Rhys — Past
"Alright, play nice and welcome our new teammates!" Coach Mercer yells, sharply, with a hint of humor. "Don't scare them, boys." He disappears down the corridor and I'm suddenly left alone in the pit of vipers.
Being on the Eldridge hockey team is both a dream and a nightmare. The locker room is filled with intimidating, broad-shouldered giants — it's impossible not to feel smaller when literally no one is less than six feet tall. The best of the best in the state. I knew it would be competitive. I knew I'd have to fight tooth and nail to earn my place.
What I didn't know is how lonely it would feel already.
There are only two other guys starting fresh with me. Louis and Dylan. Both of their brothers are on the team, which means they walked in already belonging to something. I’m the only one on the team who doesn’t know everyone; the only odd man out. The only person in the locker room who doesn’t already know where to sit. The only one nobody’s looking for after practice. The only one walking back to the dorm by himself every night.
And telling everyone I was gay when they already looked at me like I didn’t belong here never crossed my mind, not even once. Didn’t want to give them more reasons.
It's fine. I came here for hockey and chemistry only. Head down, numbers up. That's the plan.
I repeat that to myself forty times in the first two weeks.
Then another week goes by. And another.
The aching in my chest starts to feel a little worse. Just this dull, hollow feeling that follows me everywhere. The emptiness of not having anyone to talk to just quietly threatening to swallow me whole. It’s a different kind of loneliness when there are people everywhere and nobody reaches for you. Like there’s space in the room for everyone exceptyou.
But I keep reminding myself. Hockey. Chemistry. Best team in the state. It's enough fuel to keep me going.
I transferred here straight from college, so it’s my first year at university. Technically, I’m a junior. But realistically, it feels like I’m more of a freshman.
I demolish in our first few games playing center. I thought maybe showing the team I could handle my own would get me somewhere. If anything it made things worse — I went from invisible to inconvenient. All of the senior teammates didn't appreciate a new guy coming in on center and catching scout attention. Everything I did was wrong, wrong, wrong. I decided then to stop trying. Stop reaching out. Just show up, play, leave.
Marcus Hale was the captain.
