Page 134 of The Stud

Huh.

I didn’t consider the possibility that it could getworse.

“We both know the shit going around isn’t true, aye?”

I adjust my hold on my stick.

Chomp down on my mouthguard harder.

Remain quiet.

“Pure bugie.”

They’re notpure lies, but I’m not about to confess that.

“You can’t handle that snipe.”

Keeping my mouth shut increases in difficulty.

“That’s why we may be in your barn butamore miois gonna bemy bedtonight.”

The puck drops ending his taunting, allowing me to regain my focus.

Composure.

Redirect my energy into supporting my team.

Possibly putting another assist in my stats since we’re in their zone.

Looferz manages to skillfully skate around one of their wingers to correct the puck’s trajectory. The tiny black object hits the edge of his skate allowing him to execute a silky-smooth pass over to Matty who’s just waiting to take the shot yet split seconds after it leaves his possession, Layvon sends him sliding into the boards with a dirty and unnecessary cross check that can’t go unpunished.

Dropping my stick and gloves the second I arrive is automatic.

Just like blocking his path.

And grabbing him by the jersey.

And sending a punch straight into his jaw that’s so hard it forces him to abandon the hold he has on his 3P.

Layvon’s response to curl inward, basically turtling up, surrendering before it can even begin, prompts me to pummel faster.

Prevent him from being able to bitch out on the beating he deserves for not only the dangerous play but the bullshit he said about my woman.

My Slayer.

Three hits transitioning into four pushes him into abruptly trying to hit back. A sloppy arm is swung overhead in aneffort to create some space; however, it simply spins him into an angle that allows for sharp strikes to his side.

The low, low, high, low combo causes him to crumple, clearly, feeling the agony despite the pads absorbing some of the force. Rage over seeing my younger teammate, basically my baby brother, smash into the hard outer surface, possibly injuring his back or creating a concussion, a concussion like Becks had, Becks who is here in the stadium tonight as a fan versus a teammate because of the drugs shoved into his system over a similar incident, increases the magnitude of my hit.

Has me abandoning jabs for a flat out beating.

Uppercut on top of uppercut on top of uppercut as he’s dragged over to the spot where Matty fell leaves a blood trail reminder to those watching not to fuck with my team.

Me.

One hard yank downward has him hitting the ice like the discarded trash he is signaling to the refs it’s time to intervene.

They finally stop being bystanders and put themselves between us, becoming the barricade needed to stop the scrum from continuing.

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