Page 24 of First Puck

My knee-jerk reaction was to get to him. If someone had injured him, I’d start a fucking riot.

The music was messing with my head, and the commentator’s voice boomed around the stadium as people rattled the barriers. I picked up speed, stick clutched to my chest, shooting toward him.

I couldn’t let him stay down. He had to be okay.

I was almost there, but Chase, one of our housemates, grabbed me in a bear hug, shouting in my ear about how amazing I was—which was totally obvious, but I needed to get to Alex.

By the time I’d shoved Chase off me and swerved around another teammate, Lance was already there, offering a hand. Alex pressed the top of his stick onto the ice and pushed himself up like an old man.

I was in the center of the rink, barely five feet away from them, but I was still too far. I needed to be next to him to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

But time was ticking away, and they were setting up the next faceoff.

“Nice one,” Tommy said as he skidded in behind, shooting me a nod before his attention sped to Alex and Lance.

Alex had lifted the cage of his helmet, smiling at Lance as he took hold of Alex’s arm, keeping him upright. I couldn’t figure out what I was seeing as Lance’s thick-gloved hand wrapped around Alex’s, tugging him close enough that their raised face guards thumped off of each other.

As I drew nearer, Lance gave Alex one of those shit-eating grins that pissed me off. I’d always hated the way he looked at Alex. It wasn’t right. My best friend wasn’t a piece of meat to be torn into.

Lance said something to him, chuckling as Alex’s eyes widened.

And Alex blushed. Full-on blushed for him.

Something shot through me that had my stomach twisting and my heart-thumping. I didn't know what it was, but I put on a burst of speed to get to them.

I didn’t know why, but I had to get Lance the fuck off of Alex so he’d stop blushing like a glow stick.

“Get back here!” Coach yelled, and the moment was broken. The six of us skated back over to the barrier to gather around him—with Lance supporting Alex like he was going to fall if Lance wasn’t pressing against him.

“Not you, Owens, you’re on.” he said, jerking a thumb at me. “Alex, you’re off, Tommy, too. Lance, center. I need you in the faceoff.”

I wish I hadn’t seen the way Lance’s gloved hand danced down Alex’s arm, brushing his fingers over my best fucking friend’s.

That super uncomfortable feeling got stuck in my chest again. It happened whenever Alex hung out with other people, so I was used to it.

I was about to shuffle over and tell Lance to fuck off just as Lance took off his glove.

There was absolutely no way he needed to take it off. He shouldn’t even be doing that shit when we were mid-game.

But I watched in slow-fucking-mo as Lance stretched his bare fingers and swept away loose strands of hair that had got tangled in Alex’s helmet.

Right there. Right in front of fucking everyone.

I’d had the shit kicked out of me so many times on the ice that I was basically a pro when it came to taking damage.

But something hit me hard. A feeling of, like,wrongnessas Alex looked at Lance like he’d built the entire, stupid, fucking world.

“Hey!” Tommy cut through their extra-special moment as he slid past them. “You going back into the play or are you just gonna keep ogling them?” Tommy’s scowl ran deep, but that wasn’t exactly unusual.

Alex’s head whipped around, his gaze bouncing from Tommy and straight to me.

He flinched back, his eyes wide, as if he was shocked. Like I’d caught him doing something wrong.

A familiar frown crossed his face, and he snapped down the cage just as I reached them.

It all happened so fast, I wasn’t sure what I saw, until Alex fucking ignored me.

His attention fled back to Lance as he whispered something to Alex, an even deeper shade of red flushing his cheeks. He gave Lance a nod as he got through the gate.

---