The Ice King And His Hockey Boy Toy

CALIX'S POV

I hated the smell of this rink.

It smelled like damp wood, rusty pipes, and the sweat of a team that was fighting for a miracle we all knew wasn't coming.

I was sitting on the cracked bench of the Northcott University locker room, tapping my stick with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

“You okay, Cap?” My teammate, Miller, asked.

“Fine,” I lied.

I wasn't fine. We were about to play against Kensington University, the school for the elite, and the school that didn't have to worry about their roof leaking or their heating cutting out mid-practice.

And then there was Noah Kensington.

Aside from his last name being the literal name of an Ivy-League University, Noah was also the son of the man who owned half the city.

He had been my personal nightmare since freshman year. Every single time we played, he didn't just want to win, he wanted to humiliate us as much as he could. That asshole!

“Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered, pulling on my helmet.

The game was a slaughter. Every time I got the puck, Noah was there. He was faster, stronger, and his gear probably cost more than my entire tuition.

With ten seconds left on the clock, we were tied 2-2. If we won this, maybe the board would see we were worth saving, and maybe the donors would open their wallets. This was our last chance.

When I saw an opening, I quickly lunged for the puck, but a black blur slammed into me.

CRACK!

My stick broke into two pieces under the force of Noah's hit. I hit the ice hard, the air leaving my lungs in a painful wheeze. I watched, sprawled out on the ice, as Noah scooped up the puck and flicked it into our net casually, with an arrogant smirk on his face.

The buzzer wailed… Game over. And we lost… 3-2.

Shit!

The Kensington players were cheering, their polished jerseys shining under the dim lights. They looked like gods while we looked like the trash their fathers probably paid people to haul away.

“Better luck next life, Sinclair,” Noah's voice drawled as he skated past me.

By the time I got to the locker room, the energy was dead, and Coach was standing there with a man in a suit.

“That's it, boys,” Coach said, his eyes red. “The board just sent the notice. Funding is officially cut, and effective tonight, Northcott Hockey is done.”

“Tonight?” My eyes shot wide open. “We have three games left in the season! You can't just kill us off mid-week.”

“The building has been sold,” The man in suit said, checking his watch. “They’re turning the rink into a private luxury gym. You have one hour to clear out your lockers.”

Some of the guys started cursing immediately, while some just sat there, staring at their skates.

This team was the only reason I had a scholarship. Without it, I was going back to working in construction sites, hauling bricks probably for the rest of my life this time around.

Hockey was my life. On the ice, I was Calix Sinclair, the Captain. Without it... I was a fucking nobody.

Soon, the guys cleared their lockers and walked out. I waited until the last set of footsteps faded away before I let my guard down. I slumped onto the bench, buried my face in my hands, and let out a shaky breath.

Everything I had fought for was gone because some billionaire board members decided we weren't a profitable investment.

Suddenly, the door opened again.

I didn't look up. “Coach, I’m almost done.”

“I think you’ve been done for a long time, Sinclair.”

I froze. I knew that voice. It was cold, and clearly dripping with money. I looked up, my eyes narrowing at Noah Kensington leaning against the doorway of our cramped, peeling locker room.

He had changed out of his gear and was wearing a black coat that probably cost more than my entire life's savings too.

His long blonde hair was perfectly swept back, making him look like he had just stepped out of a magazine.

“What are you doing here, Kensington?” I spat, standing up. But even on my feet, I still had to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. “Come to watch the losers pack up? Take your victory lap somewhere else.” I said, my brows pulled together.

Noah stepped forward, towering over me, and looking around the peeling walls with a look of disgust. “This place stinks. I’m surprised you didn't catch a disease just by sitting here.”

I didn't say a word, because he was right.

“I heard about your scholarship,” Noah went on. “You’re the only one on that ice who actually knows how to hit back, the rest of your teammates are asses,”

“Get out,” I growled, taking a step toward him again.

He was tall and muscular, while all I had was my short height and lean muscles, but right now, I wanted nothing more than to put my fist through his perfectly crafted face.

“I don't need your pity.” I bit out.

“I don't offer pity, Sinclair.” Noah retorted, his voice rougher than before. He took another step forward, and got so close to me that I could see the golden flecks in his icy blue eyes.

“I offer solutions.” He added,

“Solutions?” I laughed bitterly. “How? Are you going to ask your Daddy to write a check and save the poor kids out of the goodness of your heart?”

Noah's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened visibly. “My father doesn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart, neither do I. But I have an allowance that could fund this rink for decades without me even noticing it's gone.”

I froze then, my heart beginning to pound like drums inside my chest. “You’re serious?”

“I'm always serious, Sinclair.” He muttered with a cocky grin. “I can save your team, I can buy this entire building tonight, and ensure not a single one of your teammates loses their scholarship. Trust me, I can make all your problems disappear with a single phone call.” He continued.

I swallowed hard. My pride was screaming, but the faces of my teammates flashed in my mind. “What’s the catch? What do you want?”

Noah slowly leaned down until his warm breath grazed against my ear, sending a chill straight down my spine.

“For the next six months, you'll belong to me, Calix Sinclair. You'll move into my estate, eat when I eat, and practice when I say so. You'll become my shadow, on and off the ice.”

A dry chuckle slipped out of me before I could stop it. “You want a servant?” None of what he just said made any sense.

Noah shook his head. “I want a rival I can keep on a leash,”

THE FUCK! What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He pulled back, his gaze burning into mine. “My father wants me to have a personal training partner during the season. Someone that won't go easy on me, and… I picked you.”

“Say yes, and the rink stays open. Say no, and by tomorrow morning, the bulldozers will start tearing this place down.”

I looked at the empty lockers of my teammates, and I thought about Miller, who was the first in his family to go to college, I thought about my own empty bank account and my Mom's failing business.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation. “I’ll do it.”

Noah's smile didn't reach his eyes. “Good choice, Sinclair. I will be at your dorm at seven p.m. tomorrow to pick you up. Don't be late, I hate waiting for things I own.”