Page 115 of Two Guys One Puck
What is wrong with me?
Ktytor: You can fucking try on the ice. But I’m going to make you my bitch.
Seaborn: I’m not fighting you on the ice.
Ktytor: Yes you will.
Ktytor: You couldn’t stop yourself before and now I know you even better, princess.
Seaborn: If you fight me, you’ll end up fucking me.
He’s right, but I can’t tell him that.
Ktytor: You don’t get to me like I get to you.
Another lie, but hopefully, it’ll work.
THIRTY-FIVE
KTYTOR
Our teams walk in at the same time, and I feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. I shouldn’t look over, but I do. We meet eyes, and his are cold. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I did this. He’s mad at me, and I have to deal with it.
I just need to get through this game, and then if we see them at the conference championships or the playoffs, I’ll deal with it then.
I go through my pre-game ritual, and my mood improves. It always does on the ice. Who wouldn’t be happy playing hockey like I do?
Seaborn: You can try to get away from me. Try not to look at me. Try to pretend like I don’t get to you, but I do, and I will. So I’ve already won.
Motherfucker.
Ktytor: Not before I get to you. I’ll win.
Seaborn: Keep telling yourself that.
Seaborn: You couldn’t win when you hated me.
Seaborn: But I know your secret.
My secret?
He can’t possibly know how I feel. He has to be talking about something else. But what could he fucking be talking about?
Seaborn: ?????
How had he figured it out? Had I slipped up and texted it? I scroll back through our messages, and I haven’t. So how has he figured it out?
Ktytor: And?
I can’t expose myself so much.
Seaborn: you can’t hide from me anymore, baby.
Ktytor: Fuck off.
I toss my phone and grab the tape for my stick. I shove my rage down. I can’t let him get to me.
Whatever. I want a fight, and now I know I’ll get it.
