Page 57 of Off Sides

“Stop being perfect.”

Nick bites at my lip and kisses the tip of my noise. “I’m only perfect for you.”

22

Joey

We’re on our Saturday game against Vegas and we’re struggling. Something has Oiler and Johnson distracted. Albrooke is confused, which means I’m not the only one, and Carmichael is hell-bent on making sure we all know how much he hates us tonight.

During a break in the game, Willis slides up next to me sweaty and panting. “What the fuck is his problem tonight?”

“No idea. Ignore him.”

The puck drops and the game takes off. Normally I love the fast pace of the game. There’s no time for anything but this. Watching the puck, anticipating where it will go next, who will try to block or steal. If your head isn’t in the game, it's obvious. To everyone.

At the first break, I smack Oiler and Johnson upside the helmet as we head toward the locker room.

“What was that for, Carp?” Oiler looks over his shoulder at me.

“I don’t know what is going on with you two tonight but get your shit together. It’s clear you aren’t in this game,” I snap and shoulder past them.

Shit. I’m not normally one to yell. I’m calm under pressure, keep my head in high-stress situations, but I just lost my cool.

I drop down in front of my cubby and take a long drink from my water bottle. I’m sweaty and sore from yesterday’s game but I’ve got another fifteen minutes of game time to do tonight. Closing my eyes, I force myself to take a deep breath. And then another.

The room is loud around me, Coach is yelling while also giving a pep talk, and all I want to do is curl up in bed with Nick.

Focus on the game.

When I look around the room again, Bryce is watching me with a strange expression but doesn’t say anything.

As we make our way back down the hallway, I realize that I don’t find freedom in hockey like I used to. For years, I lived and breathed this game. I did everything I could to make sure I could play. I played sick, I played hurt, I played exhausted, I played while my siblings were sick in the stands. Hockey was my life.

Now as a senior in college, it’s just something I do.

Something I used to love.

I love the guys on the team and I’m glad I’m able to play with them, but I’m not hungry for it like I used to be.

I’m just…tired.

Carmichael spends the next ten minutes of playtime yelling at everyone, until I snap and yell back.

“Carmichael, fuck off! You aren’t helping!” He’s right behind the glass in the stands and if looks could kill, I would be bleeding out right now. If he wants to be mad at me, fine, go ahead. I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m over his shit.

“Poor Jer Bear is in for a long night,” Oiler sighs and shakes his head.

“What?” I turn to look at him and Albrooke winces.

“Yeah, thanks, Cap.” He looks behind me, probably at Carmichael, then back to the ice. “Way to rile him up before bedtime.”

“You could sneak some melatonin in his food,” Willis offers, and we all turn to stare at him in horror. Even I wouldn’t do that. “What?”

“You really think I could get away with that?” Albrooke lifts a skeptical eyebrow at him. “If I managed to do it and he fell asleep, he would murder me in the morning. If he caught me, I would leave the hotel in a body bag.”

“Also, now I feel like I need to watch my drinks around you, man.” Brendon puts his hand over his water bottle and turns away from him. “Consent is sexy, dude.”

Bryce hops over the wall with the other second lineman and drops down next to me while the first linemen and the second line defense go out. Willis is immediately thrown into the boards but bolts toward our goal to help Austin.

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