Page 20 of The Puck Chase

Ripping off my clothes, I turn on the shower and step under the scalding spray, my head tilted down so I can watch the black and white paint swirl down the drain. Then I scrub every inch of my body, erasing his mark and scent from my skin, until there isn’t a trace of this night left. When I step out, I don’t look in the mirror. I don’t want to see the person who will be staring back at me. The one haunted by his past and mistakes, and instead just dry myself off and head back into my room to grab some shorts.

When I slide into bed, I pray that the alcohol will drag me into a quick slumber, but it’s no use. The sound of my name falling from his lips, and the look in his eyes as he came for me, is imprinted in my mind for eternity, and I’m not sure I will ever know peace again.

My phone pings, and I push out of bed to retrieve it from my jacket pocket, slumping back down as I open a message from Aurora.

Aurora: Inspired by you…

Aurora: **image attached**

It’s late, but I’m not surprised. We often find ourselves awake at this hour sketching, and it seems tonight is no different. Theimage is of a sketch she has drawn, and I almost shake my head in disbelief, as I stare down at an image of myself with half of my face decorated in a skull design. I sent her a picture of my costume before the party earlier, knowing she would appreciate what I had done, but I never expected this.

Daemon : Wow it’s amazing, Aurora, truly, I am blown away

She has captured me so perfectly that I almost can’t believe it’s me, and as we text back and forth she asks about my night, and then tells me about hers. Apparently the sketch of me is one of three she has drawn today, inspired by her friends, and I smile at the fact she considers me one of them, before I head to her social media account to check out the others. They are both just as good as the one she already showed me, and I double tap the image and leave a comment of encouragement.

I move to exit just as another comment pops up below mine, and when I recognize the account name instantly, I pause. My thumb hovers over the name, knowing I shouldn’t click on it, and praying his profile is private, but when I inevitably give in, I am greeted with access to all of his photos. Yet, it’s the image uploaded two minutes ago that has my heart once again pounding in my chest.

It’s of a strong muscular jaw line sloping down into an elegant throat, both of them marked in paint, but it’s the remarkable purple bruise now staining his neck that sends a jolt through me. A bruise left by me, now an image for all, and it’s titled with three little words.

@theARCHERgray: A drunken mistake…

Fuck.

There is a pounding in my head that just won’t go away, but it’s the ache in the pit of my stomach that has kept me awake since I stumbled into bed last night. The party was still going when I got back to the house, but I didn’t take in a single thing. I just grabbed more alcohol and escaped to my room, which is where I have been since. And I wish I could say I was fine, that I wasn’t losing my fucking mind, but that would be a lie.

I kissed him, I kissed fucking Daemon Forbes, and while it felt like a revelation for me, for him it was nothing but a mistake,a drunken mistake, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that. Now I’ve kissed a lot of people over the years, but they all had one notable thing in common. They were girls. That’s who I like, that’s who I’ve always liked, and fucked, and fuckingkissed. Yet last night, between the game and the alcohol, I had an epiphany. One that had me pressing my lips against my fucking teammates, in a way that felt wrong, but also perfectly right. One that now has me wondering if that’s the reason I’ve always enjoyed taunting him, yet I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that already, I’m pretty sure I knew it the second I kissed him.

I don’t just like getting under his skin, I likehim.

The thought has me tossing my covers aside, and jumping from my bed. I need to clear my mind, I need to not replay that fucking kiss over and over again on repeat. Shaking my head, I escape my room and storm downstairs in search of coffee, just for something to do. Yet what I find instead, is my goalie and his pink fucking tea set. Alexander’s eyes widen a little at my arrival, no doubt wondering what has me up so early. Yet as his eyes trail over me, he doesn’t say anything, just tips his head towards his tea set and offers me a cup. I nod, despite wanting coffee and not tea, but I am just so fucking tired and confused that I don’t have the energy to correct him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, sliding me a fresh cup of English breakfast tea, before going back to his own, and I shake my head.

“No,” I reply, dumping four sugars into the tea and making him grimace.

“Me either,” he exhales, sipping his tea, and it’s only now I notice the small black bruise marking his face.

“What happened to your eye?” I ask, trying to recall any confrontation from last night, and his scowl only deepens.

“What happened to your neck?” he tosses back, eyeing me with suspicion, and not being able to come up with a suitable answer, I just shrug.

We enjoy our tea in silence, before we are also joined by Jake, who is no doubt down here early to make his girlfriend a coffee like he always does. He greets us both with a smile and moves towards the coffee machine, just as Alexander excuses himselfto go to the bathroom. Then I hear footsteps on the stairs, and can only presume we have woken up our captain, yet as I turn towards the door, I find Alexander returning and bumping into a very flushed Madeline Peters.

Well, well, well, what do we have here? The two of them exchange hushed words as Jake and I share a smile, before Alexander makes his way back over to us. It seems our captain has broken his no girls rule once again, and when he appears at her back, I can only presume this thing with them is more serious than I thought.

“Good morning, Madeline,” I coo playfully, flicking my stare between the two, and noting his name across the jersey on her back. Another first for my best friend. “Fancy seeing you here so early in the morning, I didn’t know my best friend allowed sleepovers in his bed,” I purr with a grin, studying them both closely, and oh they are so not just a fuck.

Maddie’s blush is instant at my words, yet still I see her spine straighten as she claps back, “And how do you know I didn’t just get here, Gray?” Her bravado is forced and utter bullshit, and only has me feeling more menacing than usual.

“Oh yeah? Then how about you take that jersey off and let me see what’s underneath,” I nod my head towards her clothes, almost certain she is still wearing that red devil costume of hers from last night, and her blush only deepens. “Come on, give us a flash of what has Darkmore so pussy-whipped,” I add, and my captain sees red, just like I knew he would.

“That’s enough. One more word and I will decapitate your favorite part from your body,” he snaps at me, confirming my suspicions, before steering her towards the front door.

“Goodbye, Madeline,” the three of us sing in unison from the kitchen, and when I take another sip of my tea, I’m grateful for the distraction from my own head.

My love life, or whatever I should call it, might be adrunken mistake, but at least my best friend seems to have found himself a girl. Maybe if I would have done the same, then I wouldn’t be in this fucking position, but I guess it’s too late for that now.

By the timepractice rolls around on Tuesday, I tell myself that what happened the other night doesn’t even matter. It doesn’t matter that I kissed a guy, I mean, isn’t college the time to experiment anyway? And it doesn’t even matter that the guy in question is my teammate. He’s the one who called what happened a drunken mistake, so who even cares? No, the only thing that matters is hockey, and that’s where my focus should be.

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