Breaking the Ice

Dorian’s P.O.V

The box I was dragging ripped open, spilling tomato cans across the storeroom floor.

Just fucking great.

Cursing under my breath, I tossed the now ruined box and crouched, picking up the scattered cans and arranging them into a new box. My shoulders ache like hell, sweat causing my shirt to cling to my skin. Another glamorous day in paradise, breaking my back for minimum wage and pretending I didn’t hate every second of it.

“Careful there, tiger.”

Susie’s voice came from behind me and a distant part of me knew it was supposed to be sweet and chipper but right now, it sounded like nails on a fucking chalkboard. So I didn’t bother looking up. As I picked the last can wedged between the metal trolley and the shelf, I caught her leaning against the doorframe from the periphery of my vision. She was twirling the end of her ponytail around her index finger and smiling at me… Was she seriously flirting with me again? Jesus Christ.

Well, Rule No. fucking One. never piss where you eat, i.e. don’t fuck your coworkers. Besides, Susan was at least thirty and married. No pussy was worth the drama of getting your nose broken…twice.

When she didn’t return to her position at the checkout in front, I glanced at the time on the old wall clock, confirming it wasn’t time for us to switch. “Did you need something or are you just here to supervise?” I asked, ripping a box cutter through another taped edge.

Biting her lip, Susie laughed and the sound was goddamn irritating. “You’re in a mood today.”

“I’m always in a mood.”

That just made her laugh harder, and I could feel her watching me. Waiting. She always waited, like one day I’d finally drop whatever bullshit wall she thought I was hiding behind and sweep her off her feet. Sometimes I wished I could tell her off but if not for my pissy mood, her flirting was usually harmless, annoying at best. Other times, I even flirted back and gave her my sexy smirk or wink to which she blushed hard, but today, there was a tension brimming under my skin because of one person I refused to give a name to in my thoughts.

“You should smile more, you know,” she now moved into the backroom, lifting one of the boxes I’d dumped at the entrance to place it on the huge shelf resting on the wall.

I shot her a raised brow. “Why? Planning to take a picture for your shrine?”

She shrugged, brushing imaginary lint off her uniform. “I’m just saying you'd look even hotter if you didn’t always look like you’re two seconds away from punching someone.”

A week ago, I may have responded with “Oh so you think I’m hot.” But right now, all I gritted was, “Good to know.” and shoved my own box onto the shelf a little harder than I needed to.

Susan sighed dramatically, grabbing the box cutter I’d just dropped and slicing open the new boxes that just came into the store today. I was supposed to start on those tomorrow. Right now, I focused on sorting old stock but here she was…helping me. Maybe I was too hard on Susie sometimes.

“What’s eating at you, Red?” Her eyes flickered with concern as she gave me a once over, referring to me with her very creative nickname.

“You want me to be honest?”

“Always.”

I paused, turning to face her fully for the first time. “This job sucks, the pay’s shit, and I’m one more stubbed toe away from quitting. Happy?”

Susie blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish taken right out of water. “Well…you know…with that body of yours…you could always go into p**n…or be a stripper…I mean I’ll pay to watch either.”

I snorted, turning back to my shit duties. “And ruin my chance of getting into the N.H.L?”

“Right,” she smiled thinly. “So quit being a little bitch and just do your job. It keeps a meal on your table every night, doesn’t it? So until your big break, suck it up. You’re lucky you’ve got those brooding good looks, or you’d have gotten fired a long time ago with your attitude. Keith is convinced it keeps the old ladies returning.”

O…kay. That was a lot. Before I could say anything in response, the bell chimed from the front door and she perked up like a meerkat. “Got a customer,” she said, already halfway out the door. “Talk later.”

“Don’t forget the box cutter!” I called after her but she was already gone.

Kissing my teeth in frustration, I turned back to work, my thoughts drifting.

Honestly, Susie didn’t know shit. She didn’t know how much it killed me to send half my paycheck back home every weekend, knowing it would never be enough for me or for her.

“Dorian, my baby boy, you’re too good to me,” Mom’s warm voice echoed in my head, full of love. “You should be saving that money for yourself, sweetheart.”

And every time, I’d tell her the same thing. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m fine.”

Hearing the resigned sadness in her voice when she finally accepts the money always broke me. Mom deserved better than what life had handed her…than my fuck-up of a sperm donor who never stayed. I just wished I didn’t feel like I was drowning everytime I handed over that money.

The sound of voices out front pulled me back to reality and I frowned, realizing I still needed that box cutter Susie had taken with her.

Grumbling under my breath and tying my jacket arms tightly around my waist, I pushed the door to the backroom/store opened and stepped into the rows of aisle, headed for Susie who was at the cashier desk.

But my feet stuttered when I saw those baby blue eyes.

What the hell was Noah Carter doing here?

'It's a store Dorian.' A voice responded in my head before I could start thinking he came here for me.

Right. I should go then. But my eyes couldn't help taking him in.

Golden curls tumbled over his forehead and while it made him look adorable, Carter needed a haircut. Why did my fingers itch to pull that stray strand away from his face? Hungrily, my eyes moved over his face down to his body and I saw he was wearing a simple black tee and black jeans. That shirt was just way too tight, hugging every cut and dip of his ripped abs. My mouth watered.

Nobody could ever pull off an angelic incubus look in a fucking convenience store except Carter. Innocent and yet downright sinful. Shame he was the one guy I detested with my very being.

Standing by the refrigerator with our co-captain, he was laughing at something he said, punching his stomach a few times. Sometimes, I wondered if those two were just best friends. But every thing I heard about Golden boy only told me how straight he was.

Yet I couldn't get rid of that ugly feeling in my stomach anytime I thought about Jaxon and Carter.

My chest tightened, and I started to turn around, but I ended up knocking over the row of cheap perfume in the cosmetic aisle. The sound could have as well been a bomb detonated in the otherwise silent store. All eyes snapped to my direction, including his.

I tried to hide because honestly, I looked and felt like shit but our eyes met and I forgot what legs were used for.

For a moment, I thought–hell, I don’t even know what I thought. Maybe I expected him to say something, to acknowledge me with a nod, or maybe just give me a death glare. But Carter just turned back to Jaxon, grabbed a six-pack and walked to the register like I didn’t exist.

I stood there like an idiot, watching as Susie rang them up and sent them on their way. Noah didn’t look back once.

By the time the door slid shut behind them, I realized my hands were shaking. Crossing the room in a few strides to the cashier desk, I grabbed the box cutter and stormed back into the storeroom, slamming the door behind me.

Who the hell did he think he was? And why did I even care that he ignored me? It wasn’t like I’d wanted him to talk to me. If anything, his silence was a gift. One less thing for me to deal with.

And yet… some much rage bubbled in my gut that I feel like burning down a house.

Since that night at the party that he’d walked in on me and Rose, he’d been treating me like I was a non-living thing. And sure, the rest of the team had been cold too, but I didn’t give a shit about them. I’d always been an outsider, and I was fine with that…

But Noah?

It was different with him. I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me so much and that alone pissed me off. When other godfathers were practically babying their rookies and training with them outside general practice time, Carter refused to see me. It should be me who gloated while Golden boy should be glum. As my anger grew in bounds, I blamed it as the fallout from my failed revenge plan.

And you know what….? Fuck him.

Fuck Noah carter.

The next day I tried to push it all out of my head. We had a friendly match with the viper team from the WPI college.

Changing into our gear was a quick affair and soon we were all skating out of locker rooms into the rink. Surprisingly, some of the team members including Matt and Greg had finally started treating me like a human being after an impassioned speech from Golden Boy.

So once the puck dropped in the rink, it was like someone flipped a switch in my head. Usually, I played like a one-man army and scored goals for myself and not for the team, but the screaming fans/students, the clatter of sticks, they somehow turned into a chant in my head. All I saw was the ice, the puck and the assholes in Orange hockey suits A.K.A prisoners, trying to take us out.

The first period was a blur of collisions, fast passes, and flying bodies. Jaxon took a brutal hit in the place liner and I was the first one to skate in after him, chasing the puck he had lost and shoving the defenseman so hard his helmet flew off. I got a warning from the ref, but it was worth it.

Soon the team was passing to me. Actually fucking passing. I guess winning mattered more than grudges. Good for them.

The second period got even tighter. The prisoners' Goalie was a brick wall and it felt like nothing could go past him. Fuck.

As soon as I see an opening, I stole the puck at the blue line, weaving through their defense unit like a man possessed. For a second, I think I’ve got it. The net is wide open but my eyes caught Carter standing by the side, an imploring gaze in his eyes. Biting my tongue, I switched the hand of my stick and tapped the puck towards him. His eyes widened in confusion and he began skating forward, hustling for the puck. As I watched him in that millisecond, I tried to rationalize my action.

He was playing center after all, maybe he should score this one. Was that me offering a fucking truce?

Either way it didn't fucking matter.

We lost the puck.

The groan from the stands felt personal.

“Fucking rookie,” Someone on the bench muttered as I skated past them to grab a table water.

By the time third period started, I was running on fumes but more importantly, I remembered why I always played solo.

So we won 2-1 in overtime, but funny enough, not because of me. Carter scored the game-winning goal. The team mobbed him on the ice, helmets off, and shouts everywhere.

The locker room was electric afterwards, the guys slapping each other on the back and celebrating like we’d just won the Stanley Cup. I left as soon as I could.

But that night, the team hit the bar to continue celebrating. I wasn’t planning on going, wanting nothing more than to rest, but when I heard someone might be there, I changed my mind.

The bar was a sensory overload of pounding bass, flashing lights, and the sweaty press of bodies, but despite all of this, my eyes stayed fixed on Carter, all golden and untouchable as always.

Except tonight, he wasn't untouchable.

His cheeks were flushed, curls sticking to his forehead as he tossed back another shot--now six in a row--like he had something to prove. Carter didn't drink like this--he was always the team's perfect captain and chaperone if the others got out of hand. The entire reckless drinking thing worried me.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to at least dance with the girl grinding against me. I couldn't even remember her name. She was all perfume and false enthusiasm and I barely heard a word she said.

Until he disappeared. One second, he was there chugging beer, and the next, he was nowhere to be found.

Just when I began to panic, I saw him creeping down the hallway that led to the bathroom, steps unsteady.

Minutes passed and he still didn’t come back. Later, I would convince myself I only cared because of our next game...we needed our captain...right?

But I went after him, only to stumble into a sight right by the men’s bathroom.

Some asshole had Noah pinned against the wall, his mouth on his neck, hands copping the front of his pants. Noah wasn’t even responding to the touch. He just looked dazed, drunk out of his mind. This fucker was taking advantage of Carter!

He was mine!

My vision went red and I exploded.

“Get the fuck off him,” I growled, grabbing the guy by the collar and yanking him away from Noah.

The asshole stumbled and glared at me. “What the hell, man? We were just having fun.”

“He’s drunk, you piece of dogshit!” I gritted through clenched teeth, showing him my fist. “Come anywhere close to him again and I’ll break your fucking nose.”

“You his boyfriend or something? …outta here.” the guy muttered incoherently under his breath but backed off, sprinting down the hall.

Clenching my fists hard enough to pop a blood vessel, I gathered the reins of my anger and self-control, turning to Noah, who was slumped against the wall

“What the fuck, Carter?” I demanded, resisting the urge to take him by his collar and shake him up. “What the hell did you think you’re doing?”

He raised his head which he hung on his shoulder and heat rushed south at the downright innocent look in his glassy eyes as he squinted his eyes at me. “Dorian?”

Fuck. Carter had never called me by my name…like my name really. It was always Hayes he barked. The way he said it now…voice raspy and soft, I knew nothing else would ever come close.

I ground my teeth even harder because I needed to expel these thoughts. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He blinked again, lashes fluttering like he’s trying to figure out if I’m real. His cheeks were flushed and as he panted, my eyes were drawn to his red lips that had clearly been thoroughly kissed by that dipshit. I refused to think of how I wanted to—nope, won’t be thinking about it.

“What—” I started to yell my question again but Noah moved so fast I barely have time to process it. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, and before I could even think to stop him, he yanked me down.

The rough tug made my breath hitch and then his lips crashed against mine.