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The team piles on top of me as the buzzer confirms the win. That’s ten in a row. A league record and guarantees playoffs this year. But somehow, tonight, all of that seems insignificant.
I race down to the locker room, slapping high fives for the kids wearing a replica jerseys with my name on the back. The boys around me are buzzing, chest bumps and manly bear hugs filling the hallway outside of the change rooms.
I push past, finding the locker with number sixteen on it. I sit down in front and remove my skates. There are a few more slaps to my head with excited teammates overjoyed with the victory. I’m bruised and a few cuts sting as the sweat rolls down my cheeks. A beer is thrown to my lap after I remove the protective tape I wrap around my wrists, and when I look up, I feel my insides constrict in a way that they haven’t done for the past three years.
“Good win, dipshit,” Ellie says. She’s got a can of beer in her hand and as she holds it out for a cheers, I look past her to the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen inside the Vikings changerooms.
“Hazel?” I say, my voice croaky.
Oh god dammit. She’s fucking amazing.
I should crack the can of beer and slurp it down in one, because the nerves rising up my throat are making my fucking mouth dry.
I’ve spent the last two hours on the ice, dodging seven-foot men with sticks and clenched fists, hatred in their eyes and wishing I was dead, and not once did I feel scared or threatened. But now, as I sit in front of Hazel Harris, my body is shaking so bad I can’t even do what a gentleman should do, and stand up to greet her properly.
“Oh, yeah… Hello Ellie… Thanks for coming to cheer me on…” My sister’s voice splits the air, but I barely notice.
“Hey Noah…” Hazel says, her voice like an angel has come down from heaven and kissed her lips. “Good game out there.”
“Ah, thanks,” I shrug.
I shift nervously on the bench. Ellie’s gawking around the changerooms, and luckily for me, she doesn’t notice me taking in her best friend’s gorgeous curves. Hazel’s just staring down at her toes, and when Ellie looks back to her, she snaps back to me and looks down at the unopened can of beer in my lap.
“Are you going to drink that, or can I have that one, too?” Ellie says, and when I look up at her I see her cheeks are flushed in the same way mine do when I’ve had a few too many beers.
“Do you really need it?” I say, pinning my sister with a hard look.
“Do you really deserve it?” Ellie says, her brows rising. “You played like shit, bro. What was with you tonight?”
I love my sister. She’s my blood and nothing will ever change that. We’re tight and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember.
But she’s also a pain in my ass. She’s my number one fan and my harshest critic, and though I should be grateful for that, sometimes it gets on my fucking nerves.
“Fuck off,” I say, instantly grabbing at my mouth and looking at Hazel. “Shit.” I wince. “I mean! Argh!” I shake my head, hiding my embarrassment.
You shouldn’t swear in front of a lady. Not in moments like this anyway. There’s a time and a place, and this certainly is one of them.
“Sorry, Hazel.”
Ellie frowns and looks at her friend with a scrunched look. I feel my heart rate increase as Hazel chuckles, the sound of her laugh making my fingers tingle and my insides burst with happiness. I look up at her through the tops of my eyes, gazing up and down her body, taking in her generous curves in a way that has my dick twitching.
I’ve got everything a man could ever want. I make tonnes of money. I play hockey for a living. And I’m so famous that I can’t walk in downtown Vancouver without being hassled every two minutes by a fan begging for a signature.
But with Hazel standing before me, her auburn hair sleek, smooth and flowing below her shoulders, all of that feels unnecessary.
“Oh, look! There’s Miles Johnson!” Ellie says, her eyes searching the room like they always did when the boys started to hit the showers. “And he’s shirtless. See.” She waggles her brows to Hazel. “I told you it was good down here. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Ellie grabs Hazel’s wrist and begins to pull her in the direction of my captain. I feel the sudden urge to reach out and stop Hazel from leaving, but it’s too late. They’re halfway across the locker room before I can even mumble a word, and when Ellie reaches Miles, her hand is rubbing his upper arm in a way that makes my lip curl into a snarl.
At least it’s not Hazel rubbing him.
I breathe a deep sigh and collect my towel from my bag. With a final glance over at Hazel, who’s now laughing alongside my sister, I hit the showers.
I crank the steam right up. My mind is already foggy with the return of Hazel, but I need to clear it out. I played a terrible game tonight. My focus was all over the show. And if we’re a chance to get to the Stanley Cup playoffs, I need to be on my game.
I let the hot water run down my back, allowing my thoughts to drift. I replay the game in my head, just like I always did. Only tonight… It’s different. Instead of repeating misplaced passes or thinking about my stick technique, flashes of deep cleavage and thick legs distract me. A pair of crystal blue eyes flicker across my mind, and when I look down, I see a raging boner pulsing and begging to be relieved right here in the shower.
“Yo, Edwards?” A voice yells out in the shower room causing me to jump.
“Yeah?” I say, looking down at my hard on, hoping to hell the guys don’t choose this moment to play one of their dumb tricks.
“I’m heading out with Ellie…” It’s Miles. He’s always taking my sister out, but she swears there’s nothing going on there. I don’t have a problem with Miles, he’s a top guy. But I just hope she’s careful with him, especially after seeing how red her cheeks were tonight. I know she’s had a lot to drink. “You coming to the bar?”
“Yeah, bro. I’ll meet you there once I’m done in here.”
I look down at my cock and hear the door slam. If Ellie is going to the bar, surely that means Hazel would be too? And dammit, if Hazel is going to be at the bar, I need to make sure I’ve got a clear mind.
“Well, buddy,” I say quietly, looking down at my throbbing length. “Let’s get this under control.”
With flashes of Hazel’s cleavage serving as stimulation, I don’t last long before white ropes of pleasure shoot on the wall of the Vikings shower room. Shit. Guilt pulls at my neck for the sticky hot mess smoothly flowing down the tiles. I wouldn’t want to be a cleaner here. Those are the poor bastards who should be getting million-dollar contracts, not me.
I dry myself down and pull on a pair of underwear before heading back out. Thankfully, my head is clear and even if Hazel is at the bar tonight, I know after my shower exerts, I won’t be a mumbling horny mess like I was half an hour ago.
As I turn the corner, the room is much more subdued. The wild cheering and buoyant screams are gone, but the smell of sweaty jerseys and old jockstraps remains. Most of the guys would be halfway to the bar by now, so when I throw the towel over my shoulder and make my way around the bend, I’m left gaping at the beautiful woman sitting in front of locker sixteen.
“Hazel?”
