Page 11 of Puck'n Bully
I let my teammates return to our dorm and waited for a chance to catch Liam alone. I had to know what he was doing here in Knightswood. My very life depended on knowing whether he was here to reveal my darkest secrets and destroy my career as a hockey player.
I was rough on him, nearly choking his slender neck to make him answer all my questions. My violence enraged him and I loved the way he talked back to me.
Most people on campus let me have my way. They’d swallow my rudeness and callous comments, choosing not to go up against one of the most popular hockey players in the senior year.
Liam didn’t give a shit about who I was. He retaliated, although his resistance was no match for my brute strength. He struggled against me like a trapped butterfly in my fist.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m gay too.”
His words echo in my mind, igniting a desire I’d suppressed since the moment I walked away from him that day. I wanted Liam but was sure he was a straight guy and he’d want nothing to do with someone like me.
Telling me he was gay was like an open invitation to me. I’m not a sappy romantic but it feels like fate brought Liam to Knightswood just for me.
Now that he’s here, I can have him, my mind whispers.
A smile flickers on my lips at the thought but it dims the next second.
No matter how much I daydream about Liam, nothing can happen between us. This is my senior year and I’m so damn close to getting drafted into a pro-team.
If my teammates and coaches knew I was gay, there’s a good chance they’ll throw me out of the team. If that happens, I’ll never be able to play hockey again.
And if my dad found out, he’d most definitely kill me.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I can finally be free, I find myself thinking.
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing the turn my thoughts are taking. I don’t ever want to end up the way I did on that stormy night six months ago. Angels like Liam wouldn’t always be around to save my sorry ass.
Letting out a deep breath, I make my way toward the Knights’ dorms.
Low thuds of hip-hop music reach my ears as I get closer to the posh residential building that houses the university’s hockey players. Even though it’s close to midnight, light filters out through most of the windows.
It’s going to be another few hours before the celebration party is over. Digging my hands into my jeans pockets, I climb up the stairs leading to the front doors.
“Hey, Bastian,” a slurred voice calls me. Next moment, Pavel Mitchikov, the team’s left winger, stumbles into me.
“You’re drunk, Mitchikov,” I grunt, steadying him.
“Where were you?” he asks, fixing me with an accusing glare. “Sasha was looking for you all night.”
Ugh! Sasha...I think with disgust. She’s a certified puck bunny and has slept with half the team already.
“She’s with Henderson right now,” he says with a loud laugh. “But if you go to her, I bet she’ll leave him hanging mid-blowjob and fuck you instead.”
“No, thanks,” I mutter, walking past him.
Loud music and people’s voices float toward me as I pass by the lounge area where the after-game party is still going on in full swing. A couple of people are hanging out in the corridor, either smoking or making out with their partners.
“You’re such a sonovabitch,” Mitchikov says, following me as I stride past them. “You play so darn hard to get. That’s the reason these girls are always grinding up against you.”
“I’m going to bed,” I say, climbing the stairs that lead to the upper floors of the building.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mitchikov shouts, suddenly grabbing my wrist.
Turning around, I glare at him. “What’s your problem?”
“Myproblem? We’re in our fucking senior year and you still refuse to party with us. I hate it, man.”
“You know me well enough to know I don’t drink,” I remind him.
