“You look just as pretty as you always have.”
I side-eyed him. “Fuck off, Stone.”
“What?” He laughed. “You’ve always been known for being the pretty boy who stays wheelin’ chicks. Speaking of—you think you can hook me up with one while I’m in town? My dick could use a good sucking, unless you’d rather wrap those pretty lips around it instead.”
This was Alexander Stone. A fucking pig with no respect for anyone. This was also the exact reason why he ended up in fights during most games he played. He didn’t know how to stay in his own lane.
It was one thing to chirp and talk shit during a game, but he always took it too far.
Just as the ref dropped the puck, Stone threw his shoulder into mine instead of even bothering to battle for the black piece of rubber. I managed to get it anyway and tossed it to Lincoln before getting in Stone’s face.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Just seeing if you’re still a fragile little bitch,” he laughed out loud, winking before he started to skate away. “You took that hit pretty well.”
It wasn’t often that I got into fights, but something about the way he was talking was working under my skin. I knew that this was to be expected. I could always out-skate him and he was jealous of how I played compared to him. Stone had always been an envious person and let it get the better of him.
Although, I wasn’t sure there was anything better about him.
I skated after him as we headed into the neutral zone and slashed my stick against the side of his calves. It was a dirty move and one I didn’t usually pull, but I was fucking annoyed with him. Stone had a habit of pushing people to this point and it wasn’t the first time we ended up in a fight.
He spun around, his eyes wild, and he threw his gloves onto the ice before squaring up with me. A sinister smirk formed on his face. I would definitely get a penalty for slashing, but he was the one who threw his mitts first. All I was doing was defending myself.
His fist hit the side of my head, rattling my brain a bit. I reached out, grabbing the collar of his jersey while trying to keep myself upright. Curling my other hand into a fist, I drove it into the side of his face. The shield of his helmet cut through the back of my hand. I ignored the pain and the blood while we took turns delivering blows to each other's faces.
“Not so pretty anymore, Cirone,” Stone sneered with a smirk. I drove all of my body weight into him, knocking him down onto the ice. I followed along with him, landing on top of him.
It wasn’t long before one of the refs was lifting me away and two were between us, keeping us separated. I tasted blood on my tongue as I ran it over the cut on my lip.
“Good fight, Nico. I see you learned how to throw a harder punch.” He smiled at me with a mouthful of blood before he started talking shit to the ref. That was how Alexander Stone operated. And I simply shook my head as more distance was put between us.
We both ended up in the penalty box and he was still chirping from where he was sitting. Thankfully, the numerous walls of glass between us were making it harder to understand the shit that was spewing from his lips. He wasn’t even talking about me at this point.
Stone was one of those guys who’d had one too many concussions. It made you question if he was even living in the same reality as the rest of the planet. Head injuries were no joke and I wouldn’t be surprised if his next one would end up being his last and what would have him out of the league.
It was a shame because he was a decent player. He just had a big mouth and talked a lot of shit. He only talked shit to his own teammates during practices and scrimmage games. Other than that, he was a ride or die team player. Either way, I still didn’t like him and I probably never would.
The buzzer sounded throughout the arena as the second stanza had come to an end. I was let out of the box and skated over to the door by our team's bench. Everyone else was already making their way down the tunnel and just as I stepped through the door, I glanced over, catching Harper’s gaze from where she was standing. She was making her way up the stairs, most likely to head back to the media room.
The expression on her face looked less than amused and she shook her head at me in disapproval. My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion from the look she was giving me. I wanted to close the distance between us. I wanted to pluck the thoughts from her mind. Instead, she ducked her head and continued to walk up the stairs toward the concourse.
Mac pressed his gloved hands against the middle of my back, giving me a slight shove. “Let’s go, Cirone.”
I didn’t argue with him. Instead, I began the trek down the tunnel to the locker room. Mac and I were the last two to walk in. Mac brushed past me and took a seat on the bench. I kind of lingered for a moment before I sat down. Wes slid over to me with a look of curiosity.
“You an enforcer now?” Weston challenged me with his voice low. “What happened out there?”
I shrugged with a look of indifference as I attempted to brush it off. “You know Stone. He’s just a fucking asshole.”
“Don’t give him a reaction. You know that’s all he’s looking for.”
“Yeah, I know,” I nodded along in agreement. “I don’t know what came over me. Usually the shit he says just rolls off but for some reason he really got under my skin.”
I wasn’t about to relay the vulgar things that Stone said to me. It was one thing to chirp and talk shit, but it was another to keep it more lighthearted. Stone was just mean-spirited and Wes was right. I couldn’t let it get to me. It was already over and what was done was done. Even though I would have to face him again in the third period, the fight was over.
In reality, it wasn’t even the fight that was weighing on my mind. It was the way Harper looked at me. Almost like she was disappointed in me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that slid down my spine. I felt like I did something to offend her and I didn’t like how it was settling in my bones. I couldn’t fully explain it, but I knew I was only using the fight with Alexander to block thoughts of Harper from my brain.
“I saw your good luck charm was here tonight,” Wes said, breaking through my thoughts with his quiet voice. “You’re grinding hard tonight and I think your theory might be pretty solid. You have the evidence to back it up.”