ทะลุมิติ 1970s ภรรยาตัวประกอบของท่านนายพล

JEREMY'S P.O.V

Axel Carter scored the winning goal while I watched from the benches, exactly where he'd always wanted me to be. Irrelevant and useless until he decided I wasn't.

The arena erupted into a frenzy. Teammates swarmed him before he could even react.

One slammed into his side, followed by another, and within seconds, half the damn team had piled onto him. Axel disappeared beneath a mountain of blue jerseys and hockey equipment.

Laughter and triumphant shouts echoed across the ice as the crowd went wild.

Meanwhile, I stayed glued to the bench, staring down at my untouched gloves, my helmet, and my stick. I hadn’t played a single minute tonight. Honestly, I couldn't even remember the last time I’d been out on the ice for an actual game. Coach had rotated nearly everyone into the lineup at some point. Even Mason, who had spent the last two games screwing up every decent pass sent his way, got almost ten minutes of ice time.

But not me.

Apparently, my greatest contribution to the team tonight had been keeping the bench warm.

"Get your ass over here!" someone yelled from the ice.

I looked up just in time to see Axel emerge from the huddle of celebrating players.

His helmet was gone, and his dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking messily to his forehead. His chest rose and fell with every heavy breath.

And he was grinning a confident, devastating grin, the one I liked to call “Wonder Boy charm.”

I used to hate that grin long before university. I remembered it from high school.

I saw it when he dumped my textbooks in the mud and laughed at me for being overweight. I saw it when he kicked me in the groin, sneering that it might "straighten me out" to like girls instead of boys. I saw it right before he locked me in the equipment closet for an entire weekend, leaving me to rot. Even on the worst day of my life, when he stood up in class and told everyone I was just a fat gay boy, long before I was ready for a single soul to know.

Axel Carter was a bully through and through.

I wasn't overweight anymore; I had spent years ensuring I never gave him or anyone else a reason to call me fat again. But I was still gay. Apparently, that was the one thing I could never change.

Through the chaos of moving bodies and raised hockey sticks, Axel's eyes found mine.

My breath caught, my body flooding with warmth, and just like that, the last three hours of bench-warming didn't matter.

It was pathetic.

After everything he'd done to me, I still reacted to him before my mind could catch up. He could make me feel something with nothing more than a look. A look my delusional mind tried to turn into something it wasn't.

He's looking at you. He notices you. Maybe he—

"AXEL!"

The warmth inside me disappeared as Madison Blake came flying towards the ice. The crowd roared even louder at the sight of her.

Beautiful Madison Blake.

Campus sweetheart, ice skater princess and, more importantly, Axel Carter's perfect girlfriend.

She wore his jersey, his number stretched across her back, hurrying through the opening near the boards, ignoring the security guard trying to stop her. Axel barely had time to turn before Madison reached him, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her effortlessly, prompting the crowd to scream with joy and cheer them on.

My heart sank as I watched Madison kiss him. Her manicured hands framed Axel's face as she pressed her body against his. He seemed to disappear into her, his lips parting hers to deepen the kiss.

The ice hockey prince and the ice skater princess.

I didn't know why I kept staring. I’d seen them kiss before and all their stupid photos online. But it hurt more than ever watching them because for one pathetic second, I actually felt something.

"Great game, boys!"

Coach Harrison’s booming voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked away from Axel and Madison as Coach approached the bench. He was grinning like he'd personally scored the winning goal.

"What a fucking comeback!"

The guys around me cheered while Coach slapped shoulders and helmets as players began climbing over the boards and returning from the ice.

"That's what I'm talking about! That's Westbrook hockey!”

I stayed quiet, which Coach eventually noticed, stopping in front of me giving me ‘that’ look. I knew it well and braced myself for what was coming.

"Jacobson."

"Coach."

He offered a patronising smile, and I knew damn well he was about to say something that would irritate the absolute hell out of me.

"Good job staying ready tonight."

I stared at him in disbelief.

That was it? Three periods of sitting on my ass while everyone else played, and he was congratulating me for staying ready?

“Thanks," I muttered.

A mocking laugh cut through the air. I looked up, and my stomach dropped. Standing there was my living nightmare: Rory Beckham.

Rory was Axel's second-in-command, his best friend from high school, and—infuriatingly—the best damn goalie in the college leagues.

"Celebrate, you fucking cunt," Rory sneered. "Coach just commended you.”

My teammates erupted into loud, dramatic laughter at my expense.

“He probably wants a hug and a kiss,” one wheezed.

“Maybe he'll push for a fucking blowjob,” another added.

“I'm sure he'd love that,” Rory mocked. “Fucking pansy boy.”

Rory's homophobic joke only got rewarded with more dramatic laughter. Coach merely shot him a warning look before turning away, ignoring the harassment.

Rory had been making jokes like that since high school, back when he used to bully me alongside Axel. I should have been used to it by now. But I wasn't. I was just tired.

Tired of the jokes. Tired of the bench. Tired of being treated like I was some fucking embarrassment the team had accidentally recruited.

Most of all, I was tired of pretending it didn't hurt.

I pushed myself to my feet and grabbed my hockey bag.

I didn't want to celebrate or hear another congratulations about a game I hadn't even been allowed to play. And I definitely didn't want to look across the ice and see Madison with Axel.

I was going home. I was going to take a shower, crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep like the pathetic fucking idiot I apparently was.

I barely made it three steps towards the tunnel before my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I stopped, considered ignoring it, but it vibrated again.

Slowly, I pulled it out. There was one unread text waiting for me.

DICK FACE: Locker room. Now. Wait for me.

I stared at the screen.

Then, despite myself, I glanced back towards the ice.

Axel was still surrounded by his teammates, with Madison still with him while he fucked her mouth with his tongue.

The cameras were still flashing. And he hadn't looked at me once.

So why the hell was he asking me to wait?