Page 38 of My Fair Player

“Acton…”

“You ain’t gotta pep talk me, bro. I want my baby’s butt photographed sticking outta that silver-lookin’ monster because those baby-butt-cheeks are gonna be epic,” Acton said enthusiastically. “I’m talking dimples, bro…dimples!”

“Okay,” Liam laughed with the rest of the team, smiling at each of them. “We each have our reasons, our motivations, and for me – I want to show my queen…”

And he drew in a shaky breath, unable to share his deepest insecurity that drove him, that pushed him so hard on a daily basis. He wanted to feel worthy of Ashley’s love.I want my queen to see me as her king,he thought silently, swallowing back the insecurity that clung to him even in these moments. He pushed it down and saw their knowing gazes. They all had their own personal fights and their reasons. His team rose slowly to their feet, hockey sticks in hand like knights about to go into battle.

“For Captain Pimples,” Jett screamed suddenly, both fists curled as he threw back his head – and the rest of the team thrust their helmets and sticks and mimicked the rambunctious man, hollering the chant that still made Liam cringe.

He cursed under his breath at the nickname that somehow stuck, met their smiles, and joined in as they all yelled it again, shouting it to the heavens in a battle cry.

“For Captain Pimples!”

This was probably the toughest hockey game Liam had ever played. There were so many calls foricing, hooking, charging, andcross-checking. He had been called forroughingwhen one of the players tripped him, sending him sprawling on the ice.

Salas had immediately blocked him from going to take his ‘pound of flesh’ out of the Kodiak player as he glided away from him, kissed two fingers, and then spat blood onto the ice, making a face of disgust.

Jerk.

“He’s not worth it,” Salas said firmly, patting him on the cheek. “Head in the game, remember?”

“Yup,” Liam nodded, moving to the side to have someone else go in for a moment, needing a quick break. They were all getting tired and needed desperately to tie the game so they could go into overtime. As they lined up once more, for the last time, he watched the team visibly tensing in anticipation, hearing Acton and Coeur chirping the other guys wildly, using everything they had to make the opposing team off-balance.

“Where’d you get that stick, brother… Hasbro?”

“How tall are you anyhow? Three feet? Four? That looks like one of those little plastic golf clubs that I saw at my son’s daycare…”

“Oh yeah, I saw those! Wrap those bad boys with some tape,and they almost look like a miniature version of areal man’shockey stick…”

“Speaking ofminiaturethings…”

“Dude, don’t ask him or bring it up,” Coeur said mockingly, putting his fingertips over his mouth which was shaped like an ‘O’ – and Liam smiled. The man was theatrical and almost as quirky as Acton was. “No – I changed my mind. Ask! Ask! I’ve really gotta know…”

“Some guys are sensitive about the size of their…you know,” and Acton held up his thumb. “About yay big, Bruh?”

“Heaven help me,” the coach groaned and then slapped Liam on the shoulder. “His mouth better not get him removed from the ice. I need that man toscorea shot – not end upgettingshot!”

“Acton!” Liam hollered, intending to pull him from the game, but the man had other plans. The players were all bent over, waiting for the puck to drop, as a hush descended – and Acton’s words carried across the ice for everyone to hear, especially since they had him mic’d up for the game.

“Which one of you boys is ol’ Jefferies ‘thumb’ sucker? Ashwood? Is it you? With those succulent pouty lips, you look like…”

“Awww crap,” Liam muttered in unison with the coach as a fight exploded on the ice the second the puck was dropped.Oh, this was soooo going to be in a blooper reel, censored, or on SportsCenter this evening.

“OH PUCK!” Acton screamed, “PUCK! PUCK! PUCK!” – skating away from the line of Kodiak players that were determined to beat him into a bloody pulp. It was almost laughable, but that single word blurted out repeatedly had the crowd laughing at his antic - and was the glaring alert that the Wolverines needed to focus on scoring another point.

Or work on Acton’s obituary?

Admittedly, Liam was distracted.

The puck was in motion – but so was Acton. The man was swiftly circling the ice, dancing, practically doing figure-eights, and singing at the top of his lungs to further incite the players,‘Where is Thumbkin?’– and wiggling both thumbs at the men, deliberately, to keep the irate players distracted.

They desperately needed that distraction.

Acton was knocking on death’s door for the team, and it was working.

“For Captain Pimples, ya’ thumbsuckers!”Coeur cried out, pushing forward and leaping over another player that he checked – hard. Liam didn’t even mind the shoutout anymore, not when it brought the team together. Salas was right there, defending him and pushing away anyone trying to block the shot, giving Coeur his moment, and he took it.

The puck glided swiftly into the goal.

---