Page 17 of Goalie interference

They got me on the rebound because I didn’t have a fucking defenseman again.

Frustration boiled over, sending my stick hard into the goal post with an angry yell.

I knew what happened next–the play would start, I’d get pulled, they would still find a way to fuck it up with a man advantage, and this would still end up being my fault on the bus ride home.

The lack of fucking awareness and passion on this team killed me.

The play started, and Reed made his signal, calling me in. I raced over, climbed off the ice, and sent out Dunham to finish the game, but I was pissed.

Reed knew to leave me alone, let me steam, but when I started to storm down the tunnel, Thayer didn’t back off.

“Ash!” he said sternly, clapping a hand on my shoulder for a second before I shoved it off and kept moving to our temporary locker room.

The horn blared and pissed me off just a little bit more, but I was used to this part–Reed would send Tommy out. He knew I was pissed and wouldn't bother trying to get me back out there for sixty seconds of shameful sitting in my net.

“You have a goalie to coach–leave me alone,” I muttered, pulling off my helmet and throwing it into my bag on the floor.

“Ash–”

“Leave. Me. Alone,” I said firmly, locking eyes with Thayer for a moment before angrily pulling off my jersey.

Thayer didn’t leave, but glared at me as I got out of my padding. I could feel his eyes burning holes in my back, and I didn't even want to think about the weird feeling I had in my stomach with him watching me, losing one layer of clothing at a time.

There were a lot of confusing things surrounding him, and I was already pissed–that wasn’t helping.

“Ash–”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, snatching a towel from a stack and marching past him in just my boxers.

Before I made it even a step, a large, warm hand clamped onto the back of my neck, pinching slightly and making me freeze. My jaw unclenched, and my shoulders started to drop.

All the anger that had been simmering in my body started circling the drain, leaving a weird hum in my chest as my eyes started to lull shut–what the fuck was happening to me?

There was no describing this feeling–it was weird. I was hanging on to the last scraps of anger, but they slipped through my fingers too fast, like I couldn’t hold onto them even if I wanted to.

All my brain could focus on was the pressure at the base of my skull, steady and firm, forcing everything in me to go quiet.

The world dulled around me–the noise from the rink, the movement, all of it fading out until there was nothing left but the heat of my skin and the weight of his hand.

My body went loose without asking me first, my head tipping forward into his hold like it belonged there.

And I didn’t stop it.

Didn’t even try.

“Go shower and calm down,” Thayer said slowly, his deep voice rumbling in my ear and reigniting that same strange feeling low in my stomach.

He released my neck, and my head popped up, suddenly weighing so much more than it did before and leaving me…naked?

That wasn’t it, but it was the closest I could compare it to–I felt naked.

My teammates started spilling into the locker room, bitching and moaning about aches or pains, but I felt stuck. I forced my feet to move, carrying me to the shower, but as soon as the water hit and my brain caught up, I was freaked out.

Whatever had just happened to me was weird, but the weirdest part? I was now fighting the most aggressive hard-on I'd had in years–it was like teenage horniness at its peak.

There were plenty of times being hard was bad, but I'd have to put in a communal shower with my hockey team as one of the worst.

I quickly shot the water to cold, sinking my teeth into my lip as hard as I could to stop the scream that wanted to come out.