Page 56 of Tempting the Teammate
Andrei and I pushed harder. We dipped into patterns we hadn’t run since the preseason, instincts pulling us into sync. We moved like a pair of gears locking together, silent, tight, and automatic. We slipped behind defenders, looping wide, then cutting deep, dragging bodies out of position to open a lane. We forced puck turnovers, hounded rebounds, drove through checks with our heads down. It wasn’t elegant anymore. It was tooth-and-nail survival.
By the time the third period bled into its final minutes, the score was tied three to three. The whole rink seemed to hold its breath.
I could feel my lungs burning with every shift, each draw of breath heavier than the last. My shoulder throbbed from where Castelli had slammed me earlier, a dull, insistent ache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Sweat dripped from my brow, curling through my hair, stinging my eyes until my vision blurred and blinked. But we kept circling the zone, pressing them back inch by inch. The puck stayed on our sticks, but the Saints closed ranks. Their defense tightened into a wall. Their goalie crouched low in the crease, pads flared wide, glove twitching in anticipation. He wanted us to try. He was ready.
Andrei had possession behind the net. He didn’t need to look for me. He already knew.
I cut high along the slot, then slashed inward across the top of the circle, legs pumping, stick low. He fired the pass at exactly the right second. No hesitation. Just perfect timing and perfect weight. The puck slipped between two defenders, right onto my blade in stride. I caught it without breaking motion, dragged it once across my body to open the angle, then snapped a shot high to the far side.
The puck sailed. It struck the mesh with a sharp, clean thunk, and for a moment, everything stilled.
The horn didn’t even have to sound. Our bench exploded.
The boys leapt over the boards before the goal light even stopped flashing. Gloves flew into the air. Sticks banged against the glass. Andrei was the first to reach me, barreling into me full speed, helmet to helmet. His hands grabbed my shoulders, squeezing tight like he couldn’t believe it had actually gone in.
“That’s how you end it,” I said, panting, chest heaving, head spinning from the rush.
He didn’t answer at first. Just laughed once, short and breathless, and shook his head.
“Fucking legend,” he finally muttered.
On the far end of the rink, the Saints fumed. Their captain was arguing with the ref over something that didn’t matter. Lennox Ellery shattered his stick against the boards in a tantrum that echoed like a gunshot. Splinters flew, but the scoreboard stayed unchanged.
We skated to center ice and raised our sticks to the crowd. The noise rolled over us like thunder, deafening and raw. Cameras swarmed for close-ups and wide shots, for crowd reactions, and for the Saints, who were sulking far from us.
We had taken the hits. We had taken the bruises. But we’d fought back with everything we had and stolen the win from under their goddamn noses.
And for the first time since the Steel Saints had stolen the spotlight and the trophy last season, it felt like balance had finally been restored.
The little smiles on Andrei’s face filled my heart more than anything, especially as he allowed himself to smile in front of the camera. The camera operator swung away from Andrei to me for a close-up before I could look away, catching me squarely, thirsting after my guy.
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. A frown creased the space between my eyebrows as I looked away. It shouldn’t have bothered me. Not after so many stories and edits, not after the NextPlay team had pushed us front and center as a bromance of the season. Not after I’d fallen so hard for Andrei and wanted nothing more than to make this thing last a lifetime.
But I was the playboy Jen Harding made me out to be. I was still the same unreliable guy, leading people on until my interest wavered. Right? If I weren’t, I would have kissed him in front of everyone. I would have held his hand and done what Beckett Partridge and Caden Jones had done. I would have done what the Titans had done years ago when their first gay captain came out, and I would have worn a rainbow on my shoulder with pride.
But I did none of those things.
We moved off the ice for close-ups in the locker room and the commentary. Jen Harding was moving around the teams to steer conversation into more dramatic directions, figuring it out on the fly, making it a season highlight. Their new storyline would organically build around the tension between us and the Steel Saints.
Once all the shots were done and Phoenix got interviewed for the team, the crews emptied the locker rooms, but not before the cameras captured a few shirtless torsos and sweaty faces for the fans.
We showered and dressed, and I led Andrei out before the team decided on the venue for celebration. Phoenix would text us to join them later, but I wanted a moment with him, because this victory was his as much as mine, as much as anyone’s, and I wanted us to have a moment to simply bask in the glow of glory.
We wandered out of the rink to the large parking lot. Most of the crowd had already filed out and driven away. A few cars from the administration, the Saints, and the NextPlay Media vans occupied the spots bathed in orange parking lot lights.
“How’s your head?” Andrei asked, pressing his shoulder against mine, thick jackets softening the touch and cold air burning my lungs. “I thought you were done there.”
“Takes more to crack this skull,” I said.
Andrei faltered and came to a halt, fingers trembling before he balled his hands into fists. “I was terrified.”
“I’m good,” I assured him. “I know how to fall down.”
“I know that, Griff,” he said, facing me. “I don’t doubt you. But there’s this irrational fear of…something.”
I wanted to pull him into a hug right there and then tell him we would be okay. And I would have had it not been for that lens and the red light next to it, making me afraid of dragging Andrei deeper into the mess that my entire life’s relationship experience was.
“Hey, you those lovebirds from TV?” a husky voice asked.
