Puck Me Hard

Noah’s P.O.V

“Hey Faggots!”

I stiffened, forcing my hands to keep untying my skates as if I hadn’t heard it. The noises of the room—laughter, shouting, clang of lockers as they slammed it shut—kept going. Nobody even flinched. It was just a normal joke from Matt, one of my defensemen who thought anything that came out of his mouth was comedy gold. The dude was built like a fucking tank and sometimes, I wondered if that was all he was. Brute force with an empty skull.

A few of the other guys joined in, tossing back their own crude jokes as they stripped off sweat-soaked jerseys and peeled away pads.

My fingers kept trembling, but I worked the laces faster, hoping no one noticed. The worst thing you could do in this locker room was stop, freeze up, and let them see how the words hit you. That was blood in the water, and these guys were sharks who didn’t know how to leave a wounded animal alone. Usually, I didn’t care about the jokes, hell I joined in most times, but it just felt fucking different today.

“Careful, Greg!” Matt’s voice cut into my thoughts as he pointed to our team’s backup goalie. “Don’t drop the soap in the showers bro. Jaxon’s been looking at your ass all season.”

That’s when I glanced up, narrowing my eyes slightly to weigh my best friend's reaction. He was sitting on the bench, also untying his laces. “Yeah, Matt. I’ve been dreaming about your hairy ass too. Makes my knees weak just thinking about it.” he replied dryly.

The room erupted in laughter again, and I returned my gaze to my hand so I could unwrap the tape from my wrists.  Locker room talk. That’s all it was. Stupid meaningless banter. 

But still, my voice came out snappy when I blurted. “Come on, guys, cut this shit out.”

The room fell silent with all eyes turning to me and I forced myself to meet all their gazes, brows arched.

 Finally, Matt was the one to break the ice and he turned away, muttering under his breath. “Jesus, Carter, chill out.” but at least, the others backed off and I could now breathe easily.

“Hey, cap?” Suddenly, I felt a hand slam down on my shoulder where I’d survived a huge bodyslam from the Northern Nomads stackhouse defenseman. Red-hot pain exploded in my ball-socket and I barely bit back a groan. “You good? If that shit still hurts from last season, you should probably have it checked out.”

I opened my mouth to reassure Jaxon but the locker room’s door slammed open with such a force that actually silenced the room. Coach walked in, clipboard in hand, followed by a cluster of fresh faces in new team jackets.

The new teammates Coach had talked about. He told us yesterday that since it was the new semester, we were going to have fresh blood on our team, and as Captain, it was my duty to make them feel welcome.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the old guys in all various states of undress had stopped whatever they were doing and were now leaning against lockers, sizing up the new guys like lions watching a fresh herd stumble into their den.

When Coach cut me a glance, I nodded and stepped forward. “Alright listen up! I am Noah Carter and captain of the Arctic Blades! ” I boomed, catching the attention of every guy in the room. “These are our new teammates. You old bastards are literal O.G’s and it’s your job to make them feel welcome. You were all rookies once, remember?”

The room thundered with deep male laughter and so I knew this season would be good. As loud-mouthed as my guys all were sometimes, I knew they would teach the rookies what they needed to know. Later when Coach was gone, I would assign each rookie to the seniors on my team to be their ‘Godfather.’ What other way to get better than to have your own personal role model?

Plastering on a welcoming smile, I moved past Coach to the recruits who stood in a line. Handshakes, shoulder claps, the usual pep talk. Most of them seemed eager, eyes bright with respect and awe for me.

Except him.

I did a double-take when I got to him. The first thing I noticed was his eyes. God, his eyes are an enchanted forest. Deep green-black with flecks of gold. And then I look at him. At his face, which looked like something out of a movie. He has really fucking dramatic features– stark cheekbones and those pink fish lips currently pressed together in a tight aggressive line. His hair was as red as fire trucks, cropped closely to his head and I caught myself wondering if it would feel as soft as it looked. Was the color even real?

“Dorian Hayes,” Those lips parted and my breath hitched as I realized I’d been staring at them. Fuck, the new season’s stress must be getting to me, and maybe the fact Hayes was drop-dead gorgeous. That… was an impersonal observation.

“Welcome to the team,” I kept my tone light and offered my hand. But he didn’t take it. He only stared me down with those jade-green eyes that sneered at me.

“Thanks, captain,” his response was curt and his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile... There was an edge to him–a sharpness I couldn’t quite place. He really was handsome in a striking way, all hard lines and fiery red hair, but the hostility radiating off him was impossible to ignore.

But I will ignore it. If the new guy wanted to act like he’d got a rod stuck in his ass, then so be it. Sooner or later, the chip in his shoulder would be knocked off. Besides, I was too wound up tight to start dissecting our interaction.

Screw it.

I dismissed my team after my welcome speech and soon the guys were in the showers, preparing for the rookie dinner our school was holding. I wish I didn’t have to go. A hot date with my pillow awaited me but I had no choice. Fucking captain duties.

By the time Rookie Dinner wrapped up, I was half-drunk and really really looking forward to my bed. But as we left the huge dining hall, the team decided to hit a bar near campus to ‘celebrate’ because nothing bonds a group of hockey players like cheap beer and bad decisions.

Jaxon stuck close to me, however, telling me about some girl he’d hooked up with last semester as we trailed behind the loud guys heading to the dive. Yeah, a fucking bar called the Dive. 

“Are you even listening, Captain serious?” his voice snapped me out of my surly thoughts and I glanced at him for a bit. His jacket was slung over his shoulder and he didn’t really look as drunk as I thought he’d. “You good?”

“Fine.” I finally muttered, and quickly stepped into the bar before he could further grill me.

Thirty minutes later, things had spiraled out of control. Here in our town, Ice hockey was kind of a big deal so anytime players entered into any bar, we were treated like fucking royalty. Free beers, an almost emptied-out section for the guys, and most importantly puck bunnies–how could forget the fucking thrill chasers. God, I had a headache. Thirty minutes more and I would tap out. The rookies were hyped up and I trusted Jaxon and the old guys to take care of them.

Think of the devil. Jaxon appeared in front of me just then where I sat nursing a bottle of water like an unc. He had lost his shirt somehow and the bar’s dim light created shadows across his huge bulky chest that rippled with 8pac abs. I brought my water to my lips and juggled it down my throat as if to clear whatever thoughts were trying to form.

“What’s up?” I said after a while.

“Noah, we’ve got a problem.” he leaned in close to shout it into my ears. My brows shot up immediately and he continued. “One of the rookies has gotten into a fight.”

Just fucking great.

I emptied my water and tossed the bottle somewhere before lifting off the long leather couch. And then I began shoving through the crowd, following right behind Jaxon.

When I got to the fight scene however, I froze. Hayes was in the middle of it all, fists raised, intense glare fixed on his face, his powerful, lean body tensed. The guy he was about to deck was twice his size, but Hayes looked like he didn’t care.

Those emerald eyes blazed with a fire that snapped me right out of the bar. For a moment, I was eleven and back in elementary school, standing next to a blonde scrawny boy who opened his tightly held palm and showed me a paper toy. He had the same green eyes that sparkled anytime I ruffled his hair.

His name had been Dorian too and I’d fucking betrayed him.

The memory grew painful and I quickly snapped out of it, blinking as the bar came back into focus. For a while, a crazy thought ran into my head. What if that Dorian was the same person here? But remembering those meek, kind green eyes and comparing them to the literal rage burning in this dude’s eyes. Plus the obvious red hair. They couldn’t be any more different. The Dorian I used to know would never pick a fight in a club.

Right! Shit! Hayes was in the middle of a fight.

“Hayes!” I yelled but he didn’t even acknowledge me. So gritting my teeth, I stepped between them and grabbed Hayes by the arm, yanking him back into me. A low noise came from his throat, his breath hitting the side of my face in harsh, quick pants.

Then his gaze snapped to mine and for a moment, I thought he might hit me instead.

The other guy, sensing his chance lunged forward and I threw him a punch on instinct. It caught him square in the jaw and he was sent sprawling.

Without thinking, I dragged Dorian along with me outside the bar. At first, he seemed quiet, glaring at me, but as soon the fresh night air bit into us, he yanked himself free again and turned on me.

“I didn’t ask for your help, Captain!” He snarled and the title felt so fucking insulting.

“Is this how you want to start your season?” I shot back, trying to keep my voice in check. “Getting into fucking bar fights and putting the entire team at fucking risk?”

“Stay the fuck out of my way, Golden boy,” he growled and walked off into the night, leaving me gawking after him in shock.