Page 2 of Puck Shy

I can’t even go to my favorite coffee shop without being harassed by someone. If it’s not a pap, it’s a fan. And if it’s not a fan, it’s a random person who wants to know who I am and why I have cameras following me. Because of it all, I’ve turned into a bit of a recluse since Christmas. I’m either at practice or playing a game, or I’m at my house or hotel room. Which isn’t exactly abnormal during our regular season, but I’m also not a complete homebody.

I like to go out sometimes. And like many people, I enjoy sex. I like the release it gives and how it feels to be inside the warm heat of a woman. But lately, it’s been me and my hand. Sometimes not even that. I’ve just been too angry, too annoyed at the world. And with my poor performance on the ice and my knees hurting more than usual? This week has been work, ice, sleep, repeat.

Johnny’s hand waves in front of my face. “Where’d you go, man? You thinking about pussy?” He chuckles again, and I can’t deny that’s where my mind went.

“You’re the one who fucking brought it up.”

He smiles wide. “I’m twenty-one. I always bring up pussy.” I shake my head at him before he continues. “I know you’ve got shit going on, man. But I’m heading to some masked Valentine’s Day thing my friend invited me to.”

I shake my head. “I can’t go to a party right now,” I say, rubbing my now frozen hands together. I may like the cold, but standing outside with wet hair isn’t doing me any favors.

“It’s not a normal party. My friend, he’s a member of this discreet sex club that hosts adult parties at mansions around the city a couple of times a month.”

My teeth grind. “You want me to go to a sex club’s Valentine’s Day party? Johnny, you’re fucking nuts, man. The press would eat me alive.”

“We can take my car; it’s got tinted windows. We’ll stop at my place and head over together. I’m sure I can scrounge up an extra mask for you.”

“I can’t do that.”

He blows out a breath. “It’s cool, I promise. We’ve gotta sign NDAs before we enter, so nobody will say shit. Plus, you’ll have a mask on the whole time.”

“I don’t think a mask is going to stop some people from knowing who I am. Unless it covers my entire head.”

Johnny smacks me on the shoulder again. “Live a little. Take a page from your brother’s playbook. Who gives a fuck what people think? We need your head straight on the ice. So if you don’t come to this party, at least call an ex or something and fuck her brains out.”

“You’re a classy man, Johnny.”

He shrugs. “So I’ve been told.”

But I mull over what he just said. I’ve been to a couple of sex parties and participated in my fair share of three-ways, but not so much anymore. Lately, my mind’s been drifting to the future, which includes settling down, maybe starting a family. A part of me sees some guys on our team and yearns for what they have. A wife to go home to. Kids to raise. Suddenly, the image of a little boy with blue eyes and a hockey stick fills my vision, and that’s when I know my answer.

With my career going well and acting taking off, I don’t have time for a relationship or to even think about raising a kid. As much as it pains me, maybe Johnny’s right. I’m just in a slump, and I need to have some fun. Is it a risk going to this party right now? Yes. But at the same time, I do need to live my life.

“Fuck it. I’m in,” I huff.

“Hell yeah, Cap. Let’s get you laid.”

Chapter two

Lucas

I pull the gold mask down so that it settles on my nose as we walk in the front doors. I don’t even want to know where the fuck this thing came from or think about why Johnny had an extra one lying around. I sprayed it with some disinfectant, and now here we are.

I’m also wearing a pair of his brother’s black dress pants, which are still about an inch too short, but Johnny’s were worse. At least the button-up white shirt fits. I left the top open so everyone can see the smattering of my dark chest hair.

Apparently, I look “sexy.” I don’t know if I can trust Johnny’s opinion on this, but I know I look good. I sound stuck up when I say that, but my brother and I were blessed with good genes. That’s not to say I don’t work hard for the body I have, and Leo taught me all about skin care so my pores stay unclogged or whatever, but I’ve also never been called ugly a day in my life.

“You ready?” Johnny asks.

I hand my coat and scarf to the makeshift coat check in the foyer. Johnny wasn’t kidding when he said this party is in a mansion. When we pulled up, I felt like I was about to enter Count Dracula’s home. This place is ostentatious and dark, but I kind of like it. It reminds me of the horror movies I used to watch with my friends as a teenager, though there’s nothing horrific about the inside. It’s decked out in red and pink decor that literally screams rich people and Valentine’s Day.

“I told you,” Johnny says to my left, watching me take in the place. “The yearly members pay a lot, so it’s always nice.”

“Here you are,” the woman behind the coat check says, handing us papers. “Sign these, and then you can go in.”

I smile and take them from her, expecting her to flirt with me like most women do, but she doesn’t even bat an eye. She’s wearing all black except for the plain white feathered mask that covers her eyes, probably the uniform they’re told to wear. It makes me wonder if they’re warned not to flirt with any of the attendees.

I’ll admit, it’s kind of nice. Most people have some type of reaction when they see me. And like I told Johnny, I don’t think this flimsy gold mask does much to hide who I am.

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