5.

Lucas

Imagine my utter disappointment when I opened my eyes this morning to find the other side of my bed completely empty. I slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as a confused frown pulled at my forehead.

My bedroom was dead silent. I looked down at the floor, where my discarded clothes lay tangled together in a messy heap. It was the evidence of the unforgettable, intense night I had just shared with that gorgeous girl from the bar.

What was her name again? I raked my brain, frantically tracing back through every word of our drunken conversation, only to realize with a jolt of frustration that I had never even asked. We had just hit it off, the dark chemistry had exploded between us, and she had boldly suggested we take things back to my place.

I winced, a sudden knot tightening in my chest as I recalled how deeply hurt and vulnerable she had looked sitting on that barstool. Someone had clearly smashed her heart into a million pieces right before she walked through those doors, and I had taken full advantage of the situation by sleeping with her.

Even though she had explicitly given me her verbal consent, demanding that I make her forget. I still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she deserved so much more care than I had given her.

And to top it off, it had been her first time.

I let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, tossing the duvet aside and marching into the bathroom to crank the shower onto freezing cold. As the water cascaded over my shoulders, an unbidden memory of the way her tight, sweet core had gripped my dick hit me like a physical blow.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, slamming my palm against the tile wall as my blood ran hot all over again.

It had been unarguably the single best, most electric sex I had ever had in my entire life. So why the hell had she sneaked out on me in the middle of the night like I was some toxic mistake?

I shut off the tap, threw on a towel, and quickly dressed in my athletic gear before tidying up the apartment. I needed to get my head in the game. We had a massive rivalry match today, and I couldn't afford to be distracted.

I arrived at the arena an hour later, meeting my teammates in the locker room to gear up. But even as I pulled my shoulder pads over my head and laced up my skates, visions of that gorgeous brunette’s flushed face as she orgasmed under me kept flashing behind my eyelids. I winced, shaking my head violently side to side as if the physical motion could somehow erase the lingering ghost of her touch.

Soon enough, the sharp blast of the referee's whistle echoed down the tunnel, signaling it was time to take the ice. We lined up in formation, the energy in the packed arena crackling like live wire. The puck dropped, and the game kicked off at breakneck speed. I cut through the neutral zone, glided effortlessly past two defensemen, and snapped a lethal wrist shot straight into the top corner of the net for the opening goal.

The entire crowd erupted into a wild, deafening frenzy, chanting my name as my teammates mobbed me against the glass. As I skated back toward the center line, my eyes idly scanned the front row of the bleachers and caught sight of a girl who looked suspiciously like the brunette from last night.

My heart leaped. I was just about to skate closer to the glass to confirm if it was really her when the whistle blew, forcing the play to resume.

Driven by a sudden, intense surge of adrenaline, I dominated the ice, netting a second goal just minutes before the first half horn blared.

Back at the bench, Coach’s proud, booming laughter made my chest swell.

“Hell of a drive out there, son!” he yelled, patting my shoulder pads hard. He turned to face the rest of the squad. “Gather around, everyone! Listen up!”

The team huddled tight while Coach began barking out tactical adjustments, calling out guys who were slacking behind. He ordered Ricky to pick up his skating speed and sternly warned Alex to watch his blind side. But while Coach rambled on, I barely registered a word. My neck was stretched out, my eyes frantically scanning the front row crowd near the home bench, desperate to spot that familiar face again.

While resting on the bench waiting for the second half to commence, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I made a firm mental note to vault over the boundary rail the exact second the final buzzer sounded, find her in the crowd, and demand her name and number.

The second half started, and I played with a wild, relentless aggression. My sole objective was to put on a masterclass performance and score enough goals to completely mesmerize her.

I took the puck off the opening draw, driving hard down the left wing when out of nowhere, an opposing defenseman threw a dirty, high sticking blow directly into the side of my exposed neck.

The crowd gasped as a blinding spike of pain reverberated down my spine.

Red hot fury completely wiped out my logic. I regained my footing in a fraction of a second, turned around, and violently lunged at my attacker. I grabbed him by his jersey, forcefully ripped off his helmet, and began smacking his face with brutal, unchecked punches. Blood splattered across his visor and onto my gloves, but the stinging heat in my neck only pushed me to punch him harder.

Suddenly, a heavy crack echoed beneath the roar of the arena. Two heavy hockey sticks slammed brutally across my lower spine from behind.

A sharp pain exploded through my lower back, shooting like lightning straight down my legs.

The last thing I registered was the referee furiously blowing his whistle, before pitch black darkness swallowed me.