Page 45 of The Friend Zone

I googled that too by the way.

According to several sources on the internet, if someone is your first thought in the morning and your last thought at night, if you want to be with them all the time, chances are you’re in love.

If they’re the first person you want to share your happy or sad news, if your pulse quickens just hearing their voice, you’re a goner.

All it took to fall for Bay was one kiss. I’ve kissed dozens of girls before her and never spared them a second thought once the hookup was over.

Bay has gotten under my skin, she’s invaded my head, my heart. Even my cock refused to raise to the occasion yesterday in the locker room.

Like with my heart, I’ve never had a problem getting hard before. Especially with two puck bunnies ready to do anything to help the team maintain our lucky streak. But yesterday? Nada.

The only time my cock gave signs of life was when Bay turned up to the locker room looking like a wet dream come true.

I crave her soft lips, her pretty smile, her tight pussy. But most of all, I crave the intimacy between us.

Fuck.

Never mind craving a pussy, I’m turning into one.

I’m in the worst possible mood when I get to the arena. I don my practice uniform and my skates without looking anyone in the eye.

Thankfully I’m not the only one who wants to be left alone. After last night’s loss and the small gathering at the Gamma house that turned into a rager, most of my teammates are either still pissed off or too hungover to try to have a conversation.

The truth is that we’re all fearing what awaits us on the ice. After last year’s bag skating, we know Coach Harrison can be a sadistic motherfucker.

At least last year we were winning even though we weren’t scoring high when it came to team spirit.

“Good morning ladies,” Coach Harrison’s voice fills the cold air of the arena as we file on the ice in silence. “I hope you had a good night sleep and you’re fresh as motherfucking daises, because you’re going to need all your energy this morning.”

There are a few groans among my teammates, Tucker rubs his temples, looking inside his helmet as if he wanted to puke inside it.

Coach smiles as he looks at us, of course the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows better than me that no one had an early night last night. The post games parties at the Gamma house are notorious on campus and I’m sure he’s well aware of the kind of shenanigans that go on.

Our previous coach used to give us a day off after a game, but Coach Harrison believes in keeping us all in line twenty-four seven.

Usually post games practices consists of a light workout and time with the physio team but the deranged smile on Coach’sface tells me that there isn’t going to be anything “light” about today’s practice.

The good news is that I don’t see the trash cans he used last year to split the ice into lanes for bag skating.

My relief is short lived though.

“Last night this team gave the worst performance I’ve ever seen in my entire coaching career.”

Someone voices the thought that comes to my mind. “Excuse me coach, didn’t you retire from the NHL only two years ago?”

I’ve always known that Topher is a fucking idiot, but the douche must have a death wish.

“Mumford,” Coach’s smile widens. “How nice of you to keep up with my career. Too bad you didn’t put as much effort in your performance last night.”

I stifle the laugh that wants to bubble out of me. We all played like shit. After last year’s suspension, Topher has been relegated to third string and since Ryker and Corey both gave embarrassing performances, he saw some ice time last night. He didn’t do any better than the rest of us.

Topher might be an arrogant douche, but his self-preservation instinct eventually kicks in, because he suddenly stares at his skates as if they were the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“Glad no one else wants to discuss my resume,” Coach says after a beat of silence. “Like I was saying, you guys skated worse than my son’s little league team. He’s five, in case you were wondering. I’m not worried about him, he’s got time to hone his skills, but you? You’re elite athletes. Motherfucking state champions, for fuck’s sake. Some of you have been drafted and have signed contracts with NHL teams. A few of you will start their rookie seasons on NHL ice as early as next year. If I were your future coach? I’d consider dropping you or sending you offto a farm team. A couple more performances like last night’s and I wouldn’t bet a dime on any of you actually going pro.”

At this point we’re all staring at our skates.

Coach’s words are tough, but he’s absolutely spot on.

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