Page 73 of For Crosby

Jeremy groped at his throat, the red outlines of my fingers a testament to what I could’ve done to him. But he had me. And we both knew it.

With my emotions raging inside me, I turned to the bench holding my teammates’ pads. And with one long swipe of the arm, I sent them flying all over the room. As my teammates stood frozen around the locker room, I grabbed my bag from the floor and my pads, cup, and stick from my locker and got the hell out of there.

I needed time to calm my anger—and my nerves. I wasn’t one who got nervous easily, but I had a scout there to see me play. This was my shot to break out from the dark cloud my parents had brought over me. This was my chance to start over. To make money of my own so I never needed to depend on anyone else again. This was my chance to finally achieve my dream—despite assholes like Jeremy trying to stop it from happening.

I suited up in a nearby bathroom and walked out just as the team exited the locker room, following Coach to the entrance of the ice. One after another my teammates skated onto the ice. I stepped into the back of the line and skated onto the ice last.

Within seconds, alarm bells began to wail in my head.

An unfamiliar numbing sensation warmed my balls, becoming hotter as I moved around the ice. From warm to hot, heat spread out to all parts of my groin.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck.

Icy hot!!!!

In my cup.

I’d heard it was a killer, but no one ever dared to do it to me. Why would they want their star player out of commission?

But I wasn’t dealing with my past teammates. I was dealing with fucked up guys like Jeremy who were jealous of my skills.

I did the only thing I could, given the current pain I was enduring. I fought the agony, circling the ice to the music blaring and lights flashing. Suddenly, everything began to blur and swirl, as if I’d taken some type of drug. My face pulsed with heat. My heart drummed faster in my chest. Sweat beaded around my hairline, down the back of my neck, then every-fucking-where. I shook my head, trying to clear the haze as I fought to push through it, but the burning became worse. The harder I skated the more it flamed. I needed to jump around. I needed to—

Fuck. Shit. Dammit.

There was no way to focus with my dick on fire. Being on plenty of teams in my life, this prank happened once a season. And the kicker was water intensified it. So even though the inclination was to jump in water, it would’ve made it worse.

I needed to rip off the cup. I needed to be rid of the pain.

But I needed to play.

I closed my eyes, willing the pain away, but all it did was glaze my eyes with tears. Some of my teammates watched me. Did they know what had been done to me or did I just look like I was having a panic attack?

I glanced to Sabrina who sat in the front row with Finlay, bouncing in her seat. She was so excited to be there. So excited the scout was there for me. Little did she know, my body was burning up and there was no way I’d be able to play the way I needed to in order to impress that scout.

She smiled and waved as I skated by them. I couldn’t smile—for a growing number of reasons. I just skated over to the bench. The coaches spoke to each other, likely discussing last minute changes before they relayed them to us. I knew better than to interrupt them. But the urgency of my situation trumped it.

“Coach?” I shouted over the music as my teammates continued warming up on the ice.

He turned to look at me. “What is it, Crosby?”

“I need to hit the showers.”

His creased eyes conveyed his confusion. “What?”

“I need to hit the showers.”

“There’s a scout here to see you play and you’re telling me you need a shower?”

“I’m having a problem with my—”

“Stick,” Jeremy said as he skated over.

My eyes narrowed on him. “Fuck you.”

“Wasn’t me everyone saw you fuck,” he said with a condescending grin.

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