Page 33 of My Fair Player

“We’re focused and got this,Captain Pimples!”

Liam blinked. His head jerked to the side, scanning the players. “Is he talking about me?” he asked, appalled, stunned into immobility for a split second. His hand lifted to his chin. “Do I have a pimple?”

Coach Starnes didn’t answer—just dragged his palm down his face in despair. His thick fingers spread wide like a sci-fi monster fromAlien, covering his features as if that might shield him from the catastrophe unspooling in front of him.

“Oh my gosh, this is gonna be so bad…” the coach muttered under his breath, the defeated words punching through the awkward silence. He threw his clipboard to the ground with a sharp clatter. “Heaven help me – that man might not be worth the money after all.”

The puck dropped.

And so did half the opposing team, literally—tripping, collapsing, laughing until tears rolled down their cheeks.

From somewhere near the net, Liam heard Larsson, his goalie, cackling uncontrollably. Coeur, Boucher, and Salas weren’t far behind, practically doubled over, sticks slipping from their gloves as they gasped for air between fits of laughter.

Fragments of their conversation floated across the ice like leaves in the wind—nonsense and madness—and Liam stood frozen on the bench, the sinking feeling in his chest growing deeper with every second.

“What’d he say?”

“No, he didn’t…”

“He called his captain… Captain Pimples?”

“Why is he calling me Captain Pimples?” Liam blurted out, his voice sharp with confusion, his mind spinning wildly as the words rang in his ears.

And then—just like that—it clicked.

“It’sPamplona, you idiot – not pimples…” Salas grunted from somewhere behind him, the words muttered low but loud enough to slice through the din of the rink. Liam could almost hear the eye roll in his teammate’s tone.

Pamplona.

Not pimples.

Of course…

The Barcalona crack in the locker room when he’d been giving his speech. Acton stood up and decided to add his two-cents worth, and it was backfiring in Liam’s face. He felt his stomach drop as the realization hit like a slap of cold wind through his gear.

It wasn’t just a random nickname or a careless jab. No, it was intentional.Strategic. A psychological dig wrapped in juvenile mockery. The kind that got under your skin and stayed there festering.

He’d been played - publicly – and for good reason.

Jett Acton’s arrogant smirks and casual trash talk weren’t the product of some boneheaded jock with a big mouth. They were the weapons of a man who knew exactly how to needle people—how to manipulate a situation to his favor. How to twist a moment, a word, a weakness, and flip it into control. Liam had mistaken arrogance for idiocy, swagger for recklessness – and it was far from any of that.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

It was a disaster.

Hisdisaster.

And he was the captain of it—CaptainPimples?

His cheeks flamed with shame. He could feel the heat pulsing under his helmet, his pride unraveling with every heartbeat. What kind of leader let himself get toyed with like that?

“Craaap, Acton! We’ve barely started the game, you crazy nitwit!” Liam shouted, his voice breaking as fury bubbled up from somewhere deep and betrayed inside of him. He couldn’t hold it back anymore—the surge of anger, disbelief, and hurt colliding in one sharp burst. His rage wasn’t just for the man across the ice—it was for himself, too, for not seeing through it. For thinking that moment at practice had meant something.

He thought they'd connected somehow. Maybe not bonded exactly, but there was camaraderie in their rough edges clashing. A scuffle, a laugh, a shared sense of grit. It felt real at the time. He’d even gone home with that rare glow of something good—picked up roses for Ashley on the way back, feeling like things were shifting.

But now? That entire exchange felt like a setup.

Acton hadn’t been calling him ‘Barcelona’ after all of that pep-talk in the locker room before this game. He hadn’t been joking around in some weird inside-joke way. No, he was winding him up, setting the trap. And Liam had walked right into it, dragging his title and dignity behind him.

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