Page 22 of These Wicked Games
Oli.
Fucking Kuli.What a dick.
I know he hates me, that’s not what confuses me. Our history aside, I’ve made it my mission to push his buttons whenever possible. Fuck him very much. The fact that he could believe I’d do something so awful pisses me off. How would I even go about doing that? We used to be friends. Best fucking friends. Since then Oli has made it his mission to kill me with those blue eyes every time he sees me.
Stretching as I get out of bed, I’m just happy for a day off. I walk to my couch and drop down, thinking about what I want to do. No practice today. That thought brings a smile to my face. I love hockey, I do, but that’s all my life has ever been. If I’m home, I better be sleeping, eating, or practicing. It’s constant.
Now I don’t know what to do.
I go back to my bedroom, grabbing my suitcase. I’ll need more clothes and a new suit before the game, but that’s a tomorrow problem. I pick out a pair of sweats, slipping them on, then go to the shopping bag from earlier, grabbing the coloring books and new pencils I bought from the local craft store.
This one is pretty cool—aquatic animals in various intricate designs. Animals are my favorite thing to color. Grabbing my supplies, I make my way onto the enclosed balcony. Luckily, while this place does look like a shithole, the heat works really well, especially out here on the balcony. It’s only the beginning of October, so it’s not too bad out here right now anyway.
I drop down into the ratty chair that isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it’d be. I put my feet up on the footstool and open the book, finding a page that speaks to me right now. I choose a whale swimming up to the surface, nearly colliding with a small ship on the water. There’s a reef, fish, and lots of intricate little details to keep me busy for hours.
I can’t draw for shit, but I love to color. It’s one of the only things that puts my mind at ease. One time, I had a panic attack when I was with Vanessa, and she suggested a bunch of things to help with the fear and anxiety I live with. Something to shut my brain off. I laughed at it, but after she hit me in the back of the head with one of the books she was coloring in, I gave it a shot.
It worked, and I can feel my mind calming as I scrape the blue pencil along the outline of the whale. I like to outline the drawings first, then softly shade them in. I think I’ll color the jellyfish pink and give the water a greenish-blue tint. I wish I’d grabbed the one from home I’d been working on. That one had a bunch of cute and creepy little occult designs, and I was nearly done with it. Tripp has probably turned my room upside down by now. All my coloring books were kept under my bed, and I can just imagine his confusion when he sees them.
Whatever. I’m free. I never have to go back there. It’s pathetic, how scared I am of him. I’ve let this old fucking man bully me my entire life. I don’t know what my mother ever saw in him. Not like she was alive long enough for me to ever ask her, though.
I push those thoughts out of my mind, and instead my brain goes down another unwelcome path.
I was shocked seeing Oli and Grey walk into The Treasure House last night. It’s a popular queer club that knows how to keepit’s secrets, hence the name, and whenever we’d play the Otters, I’d stop there after our games. Personally, I don’t give a shit who knows about my sexuality, but I’m careful anyway, only visiting queer-friendly spaces with airtight NDAs thanks to my agent.
Fuck.My agent.
Yeah, he was not happy at all about me leaving and dropping him so quickly. I feel really bad. I just couldn’t keep him, he was too close with my father. I’m going to need a new one, and I know just the person to ask.
Boy, do I just love trouble.
I try to shut my brain off for a bit, and I nearly have the whale completely done an hour later. I think this is the first day off I’ve had in . . . well, ever actually. It’s weird just sitting and not having to run drills. We do have a game tomorrow, and while Oli hates me, I’m also the new guy and have something to prove.
My stomach turns, thinking about that game with Rocky. While I had been at the other end when it happened, I’ve seen the replays. His skull bounced off the crease without a helmet. Having four to five six-foot-plus men basically skating on knives coming at you about twenty miles an hour . . . yeah, that shit is terrifying and can cause serious injuries with the helmeton.
I move on to the ship, coloring it with a nice brown. Outlining the wood grains, my mind drifts back to Oli. While he’s a real dickhead, I have to admit—and only to myself—how gorgeous he is. It’s part of the reason I started talking to him way back during our camp days. He was a scrawny kid then, but now . . . fuck, Oliver Kulivov is sexy. I hate the thought, but I can’t lie to myself.
Tonight he looked good. His dirty-blond hair looked more brown than blond, and those ocean-blue eyes grab my attentionevery time I’m in their path. He’s big—bigger than I am—and I don’t think I’d be able to wrap both hands around his biceps. Despite his size, he moves on the ice with the grace and speed of a figure skater.
I blend the wood, finishing up the ship, then set my pencil down. I’ll do more tomorrow. My eyes are growing heavy and my mind just won’t let go of seeing Oli earlier. He’d worn a loose, deep-red dress shirt, with the top four buttons open letting those tattoos that seem to cover every inch of him show.
That sexy son of a bitch.
What did seeing him tonight mean, that’s the question? Grey looked comfortable being there, but Oli looked like he wanted to jump out of his own skin. There was a woman with him, but Oli wasn’t really paying her much attention.
Nope. His attention was all on me.
I have to stop thinking about it. I’ll drive myself crazy. I get up, putting my coloring book down to go into my room. At least the mattress is new. Dropping into bed, I think of all the things I need to do this week. I thought taking this day off would help my mind settle, but I just feel restless. Starting over is a pain in the ass. I’m safe, though, I remind myself, and that thought makes me smile.
I’m finally safe.
“No fucking way.” Jess doesn’t look up from her desk—her eyes don’t even lift to greet me. Her pale blonde hair is pinned back in a slick bun, and her slender fingers type away furiously at her computer.
Jessica McLaren is every hockey player’s dream agent. She is vicious, firm, and doesn’t compromise her players and their lives for money. At the same time, she also has the highest paid athletes on her roster. It’s almost like you don’t have to be a crook to make it in this business. I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about agents taking advantage of their clients, and while my old agent was not like that, he was still picked by my father and did not have my best interests at heart most days.
“I haven’t even said anything.”
Finally she pulls her eyes away from the screen, looking at me beyond her glasses. “Let me guess, you fucked over your last agent when you abruptly left in the middle of the night with no warning or explanation and now you want me to sign you.”
