CHAPTER 9- GAY FOR ONLY YOU?

The whistle sliced through the frigid air of the practice rink, but Liam Lannister barely heard it. His skates felt heavy, his stick like a foreign object in his hands. A few days had passed since the absolute disaster with Chloe, yet the humiliation refused to loosen its grip. Every time he closed his fucking eyes, he saw flashes of that night.

At this point he'd probably replayed the ear scene a million unhealthy times.

He lined up for the next drill, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Focus, damn it. This is practice. This is what you do.

The puck came his way from Marcus, it was a clean hard pass he would normally control without thinking. Today, it bounced awkwardly off his blade and skittered away toward the boards.

“Shit,” Liam muttered under his breath, skating after it half-heartedly.

“I’d rather fuck you instead, pretty boy.”

The words Raphael had thrown at him that night kept slamming into his brain like a bad but addictive porno.

The way he'd said it was so effortless, confident, teasing and Completely uncalled for.

That dude is fucking crazy. Loud-mouthed, arrogant, and completely out of line. Who the hell says shit like that even as a joke?

Liam shook his head sharply and pushed forward for the next rep. Another pass came. Again, he fumbled it. The puck rolled lazily away.

And why the fuck did that stupid line make me blush like some horny teenager? I’m straight. I’ve always been straight. It shouldn’t even register in my brain.

One of the assistant coaches shouted from the bench. “Focus, Lannister! Heads up out there!”

Liam’s face burned under his helmet. Raphael’s just having fun teasing me. That’s all it is. He said it himself — I’m not his type. We’re cool. I just need to grow a thicker skin around his constant bullshit. It’s not like he’s actually going to jump me in my sleep, right?

He tried to convince himself. Raphael was actually a terrific hockey player. The guys on the team already liked him — he pulled his weight, cracked jokes at the right time, and fit in faster than most trades. It didn’t hurt to be chill with him. Right?

But he fucking licked my ear!!!

The thought hit at the exact moment Kowalski, one of the bigger defensemen, barreled into him during a board battle along the glass. Liam wasn’t ready. The hit was clean but powerful, sending him crashing face-first onto the ice. His helmet rattled against the surface. Pain flared in his shoulder and cheekbone.

The embarrassment hit harder than the fall itself. He'd fallen like a fucking amateur.

He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline and shame surging through his veins. He shoved Kowalski hard in the chest with both hands. “What the fuck, man? Watch where you’re going!”

Kowalski shoved back, eyes flashing with irritation. “You were in my lane, Cap. Pay attention or get the hell off the ice if you’re gonna skate like a rookie today.”

Liam removed his gloves, eagerly ready to punch the blatant disrespect out of Kowalski's face.

Suddenly Raphael slid between them smoothly, his back to Liam, one strong arm firmly pushing Kowalski back. “Easy, guys. It was a clean hit. Let’s keep it moving. No need for this shit right now.”

Other teammates quickly jumped in, grabbing arms and pulling bodies apart before it escalated into a full line brawl. The whistle blew sharply from the bench, long and piercing.

Coach Harlan waved Liam over with a sharp gesture. “Lannister. Bench. Now.”

Liam skated over slowly, breathing hard, cheeks flushed under his visor. He could feel the eyes of the entire team on him.

Coach kept his voice low but sharp enough to cut. “What the hell is going on with you today, Captain? You’re missing passes you normally pick up in your sleep. Your head is somewhere else entirely. This is the AHL. We’ve got the Calder Cup playoffs right around the corner. Every practice, every shift, every drill matters if we want any shot at making a real run this year. I need my captain locked the fuck in.”

Liam stared at his skates, shame burning hot in his chest. “Yes, Coach. Sorry, Coach.”

“I don’t want sorry,” Coach continued, voice firm and unyielding. “I want focus. The team’s success rests on your shoulders. Whatever personal shit is messing with your head right now sort it out fast or leave it at home. You hear me? We can’t afford distractions at this level.”

Liam swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Coach. I got it. It won’t happen again.”

Coach studied him for a long second, eyes narrowed, then nodded curtly. “Cool off. Get your head right before you cost us something important.”

Liam dropped onto the bench and yanked off his helmet, chugging water from a bottle like it could drown out the chaos in his mind. His shoulder throbbed from the hit, but the real pain was deeper.

A minute later, Marcus skated over and sat beside him, pushing his own helmet back on his head. Sweat dripped down his face. “What’s going on with you, man? You’re never this distracted on the ice. You okay?”

Liam forced a shrug, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Just got a lot on my mind with the Calder Cup coming up. Pressure’s getting to me, I guess. Nothing major.” he said instead. It wasn't a lie.

Marcus didn’t look convinced. He leaned in a little closer, voice dropping. “You sure that’s all? We’ve known each other since junior hockey. You can talk to me about anything. Seriously. Girl trouble? Family shit? Whatever it is, I got your back.”

Liam managed a weak smile, but inside his stomach twisted. I know this is my best friend… but how the hell do I tell him that his very straight friend is suddenly having weird thoughts about his rival? Imagine how Marcus would look at me. Like I’m broken. Like I’m less of a man. Even if I’m not gay. I’m not. I can’t be.

“Nah, man,” Liam said, forcing lightness into his voice. “It’s really just the playoffs pressure. You know how it is. I’ll shake it off.”

Marcus patted his shoulder firmly. “Alright. But the offer stands. Anytime. Day or night. Don’t carry it alone.”

“Thanks, Marc. I appreciate it. Really.”

Marcus gave him one last searching look, then skated back out to rejoin the drill.

Liam’s eyes followed his best friend’s retreating form thinking hard. Marcus was a good-looking guy, yunno, broad shoulders, easy smile, the kind of effortless charm that had girls swooning everywhere they went. Liam waited for… something. A flicker. A spark. Anything that might prove he was attracted.

Nothing.

His gaze drifted across the rest of the team on the ice. Big Mike with his rugged build and loud laugh. Lee with his sharp, almost celebrity-like Asian features. Fred with the blonde hair and classic all-American good looks. All solid, attractive guys in their own way.

Still nothing. Just familiar teammates. Brothers.

See? I’m not broken. I’m not gay. I don’t feel shit for any of them.

Then his eyes landed on Raphael.

Raphael was skating lazily near the blue line, stick loose in his hands, powerful body moving with that effortless, predatory grace. Sweat glistened on the back of his neck and shoulders. The way his thighs flexed under his practice pants as he took a casual shot.

Liam’s face warmed instantly. Heat pooled low in his stomach before he could stop it. His pulse kicked up.

Fucking hell.

He looked away fast, gripping the water bottle until the plastic dented.

What exactly about him gets me this disoriented? Why him? Why now? He’s not even my type. He’s loud. Cocky. Annoying. He’s everything I hate.

The thoughts crashed around in his head like pucks in a penalty box. He was the captain. The steady one. The guy everyone looked to for leadership. Instead, he felt like he was unraveling, one teasing word and one lingering look at a time.

He chugged more water, trying to drown the confusion.

Just grow a thicker skin. That’s all. Raphael is just a teammate now. Nothing more. I can handle this.

But even as he told himself that, the memory of Raphael’s low laugh and the heat of his breath on his ear refused to fade.