Page 8 of Two Guys One Puck
Seaborn: Fuck no.
Ktytor: I can’t believe you miss me so much already. It’s only been a few days, muffin.
Arrogant fucking bastard.
Seaborn: More like I want another chance to beat the shit out of you.
Ktytor: With the surprise ending included?
Seaborn: NO
Ktytor: I look forward to it, sweetheart.
I don’t know why the nickname pissed me off so much, but it left me stewing. Time to go downstairs and find a lay. That’s what I need to do before we fight again. I’ll fuck someone, and then I won’t get weird sexual energy fighting. That’s the perfect solution.
But Wolfe said fucking before a game is bad luck. Fucking superstitious goalies.
I force myself downstairs before I message Ktytor again.
Wolfe shoves a beer into my hand. “What’s got you down? Do you need a hug?”
“Not a thing, man.” I force a smile onto my face.“You can hug me later. I promise. Let me at least get some action first.”
“If I don’t get some cuddles, I’m going to pout.” He holds a finger up, totally serious.
“I pinky swear.” I hold mine out.
He locks his with it. “Did your concussion check come back clean?”
“Yep, I’m all good to go.” Thankfully. If I didn’t get to face the Monsters in the playoffs over a kiss, I’d never forgive myself.I know they can’t win without me, and letting them down for a fight would make me a shit teammate.
“Good, I can’t hold this fucking team on my back alone.” Wolfe holds his fist out.
I bump it. “You do a pretty damn good job of it by yourself.”
Wolfe winks. “I know, but that one is fucking hard.”
An image of Ktytor’s hard body pressed into mine snaps into my brain. I shudder. I swear to fucking God, brain, get with the program, or it’s loboto-me. I’m not playing.
“You okay there?” Wolfe waves a hand in front of my face. “Did you lie to the doc? Let me see your pupils.” He flash bangs me right in the eyes with his phone light.
I stumble back. “Motherfucker. We have talked about this. You cannot flash bang someone without warning.”
“That’s what she said,” Archangel calls from across the room.
“What does that even mean?” Wolfe asks, exasperated.
Archangel shrugs but doesn’t laugh, not his usual jovial self.
“What’s going on with Archangel?” I change the subject, needing the focus off of me.
“His sister is getting married, which means going home to Georgia.” Wolfe makes a face.
We’ve all been friends since freshman year when Archangel and I were roommates. He and Wolfe were a package deal as they’ve known each other since they were kids, but those two had grown closer over the years, making me a bit like the best friend third wheel. But I loved them like brothers.
“Shit. No wonder he’s a mess.” I mutter, chugging half my beer. Archangel will be a wreck until that’s over. He’s the onlypublicly gay guy on our team and one of the very few in college hockey. He’s not quite a unicorn, but basically as rare.
His Southern Baptist family doesn’t appreciate it at all or the visibility. I’m sure they’d prefer him in the closet, but if they knew anything about him, they know that goes against his entire personality.
