Game On

TRISTAN

I couldn’t stop staring at Hunter Beaumont.

Why the fuck couldn't I stop staring at him?

This was the fourth time I'd caught myself watching him and the third time he'd turned and nearly caught me dead in the act.

Each time I'd managed to jerk my attention away at the last second pretending I was fascinated by whatever the hell Randall was telling us over lunch.

Even now that we were at the rink preparing for today's practice, I still caught myself stealing glances at him.

It was getting fucking ridiculous.

Hadn't last night taught my body enough of a lesson?

My back still burned beneath my shirt from the punishment i'd given myself, and yet, here I was, doing the exactly thing I'd spent the entire night warning myself not to ever repeat again. .

My eyes kept finding Beaumont, following his every move like the stalker he'd accused me of being yesterday.

God, this was all Evie's fault.

Her words from yesterday had dug up things id spent years burying so deeply id convinced myself they'd stopped existing.

Now they'd been dragged into the light, and my brain had no fucking intention of putting them back where they'd belonged.

I needed those thoughts gone.

Those urges.

Those fucking monsters.

They couldn't be allowed anywhere near the rest of my life.

Being the captain of the Winter Wolves was one of the best things in my life. I'd worked my ass off for it, endured every criticism, discipline.. I fucking bled for it.

If any of these assholes had an inkling of what I'd felt and thought last night, they'd turn against me so fast.

I refused to let whatever the fuck this weird, twisted fixation I was starting to have on Beaumont burn it all to the ground.

I just needed to shove all those weird feelings down where the sun doesn't shine and remind myself of the facts.

It didn't matter that he was wearing a Winter Wolves Jersey now, Beaumont was still my enemy.

My rival.

If I wanted to make it to a good hockey college and get out of this shitty town with my mom and sister safe, I had to remember that.

And as long as I recalled that I wouldn't end up doing stupid shit again.

Like roughing Beaumont up in an alley because I couldn't keep my fucking hands to myself.

“Earth to bro.”

Carter’s voice cut through the dense fog in my head, as he snapped his fingers in my face. “What the hell are you thinking about so hard? You’ve been completely zoned out today. Did something happen with the delivery?"

He whispered that last part into my ears as I turned to glance at him.

Shaking my head, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

What was i supposed to say?

Evie claimed that I had a crush on Beaumont and now I can't stop freaking out that she might be right and if she's right, I didn't know what to do about it because I genuinely despise that asshole and oh, I couldn't be...the guy that finds other guys attractive?

Yeah. That would go perfectly well.

I just gave a noncommittal shrug, letting my face settle back into its blank default.

Luckily, Coach strolled into the rink before Carter could push any further and the chatter slowly died down.

Morrison moved to the center of the rubberized floor, his sharp gray eyes sweeping over every single one of us.

“Listen up,” he barked, his voice bouncing off the boards. “Our hand-holding is officially over. Two weeks from today, regular season kicks off and we'll be opening with a home scrimmage against Westbrook."

"Whatever happens in that game is going to set the tone for the rest of the season. I don't care what happened last year and I don't give a damn how good you think you are. By the end of every practice, I want blood and sweat on my ice. AM I CLEAR?"

There was a loud chorus of yes sirs and Coach paused, letting the weight of the announcement settle over the room, before clearing his throat again.

“Now, given that we have new players joining us on the roster this year and a few of them already have serious experience at this level, I'll be shaking up the structure. There are stakes for the next two weeks.”

I couldn't help myself. My eyes glided sideways, tracking toward the far corner of the room. This time though, I wasn't the only one looking.

Every fucking head in the rink turned in his direction.

Only a fool wouldn't be able to tell who Coach was talking about.

However, despite how everyone was staring at him, the air around him was so full of unbothered arrogance it made my teeth ache.

He stood there, slightly apart from the rest of us. Even with the team deliberately leaving space around him, he didn't look uncomfortable.

If anything he looked annoyingly at home.

There was that smug little expression again. God I wanted to wipe it off his face.

I let my eyes linger for a second longer than I should have until Coach's voice snapped my attention away from him.

“For the next fourteen days,” Coach Morrison continued, “I want every one of you giving me everything you've got. Nobody’s spot is guaranteed. Leftwinger, defense....every single position on the starting line is up for grabs. There'd be a lot of reshuffling once I discover each and every one of y'all's best position on the ice."

We all nodded until he added. "And that includes Center position too."

My whole body froze and the locker room seemed to go strangely quiet.

"What?" Someone finally said from behind me and I recognized the voice as Carter's.

"Yes. Center." Coach repeated.

My fingers tightened around my stick. That was my position.

I'd played Center even before I become captain of the Winter Wolves team.

I'd earned it. And despite Center position being reserved for the captain on most hockey teams, I had earned mine.

Was Coach insinuating that I wasn't deserving of it anymore?

As bitterness and rage churned in my gut, Coach raised a hand, cutting off all the murmurings immediately.

"You all know Hunter Beaumont played Center with his old team." He said. "He led their offensive drive to the state semifinals last year, and with that I think we can all agree the kid knows what he's doing on the ice."

My eyes slid towards Hunter again.

He looked completely pleased with himself.

Of course he did

Coach crossed his arms over his chest. "Reeves, you’re a damned good center. Nobody is questioning that, but when we hit the regular season, I want the player who gives this team the best chance to control the game. If you want that starting Center slot, Reeves, you’re going to have to earn it again. Am I clear?”

My gut tightened.

There it was.

Competition.

Coach might not have said the words outright, but I knew exactly what he was telling me.

I needed to fight for it.

I forced my expression to remain blank even as heat crawled up the back of my neck. "Yes sir."

Around me, the guys were murmuring their objections, but I barely heard them.

My attention stayed on Beaumont and this time, for a valid reason.

He soon caught my eye and that smug fucking look widened just slightly.

Something hot twisted in my gut.

Fine.

Bring it the fuck on.

I might not be facing Hunter Beaumont from across the red line in a different jersey anymore, but nothing had changed.

If anything it had just gotten a hell of a lot more personal.

And I was going to tear him to pieces on the ice before I ever let him take what was mine.