Power Plays & Straight A's (CU Hockey 1)

Apparently, I’m being held to a higher standard because I’m the team captain.

It doesn’t matter that I’ll have scouts keeping an eye on me this year and need to play as many games as I can. It doesn’t matter that I want to play for the NHL after I graduate.

I messed up. End of story.

When the team goes back on the ice, I hit the showers.

The hot water beats down on me and stings the shit out of my forehead. It’s enough to bring me back down to earth completely, making me realize my mom was right when she told us over and over again that there are always consequences for your actions.

I was under the delusion that because this game didn’t count for standings it wouldn’t affect my season. Now I’m going to be one game down, and it hasn’t even started.

Maybe Jacobs is right and Zach is too much of a distraction.

I’ve lived and breathed hockey since I can remember. My goal has always been the NHL, and I’ve worked hard to become the best player I can be. I’ve never met anyone who’s made me want more than that, who’s made me think I might need more than that.

All I know is, right now, I want to keep spending time with Zach.

Even if he regrets the kiss and just wants to be friends.

My lips tingle at the memory of his mouth, and even though I might have fucked the entire team’s chances this year, I can’t help thinking it was still worth it.

The weirdest protocol in hockey is the mandatory suit-wearing to and from games. Because we should look respectable before and after we make other men sweat and bleed all over the ice.

Makes sense.

After the team trainer cleans up my wound and puts a butterfly bandage over the small cut—even he admitted it was overkill—I head for the stands to where Seth and Zach should be.

I get glares from people dressed in green and cheers from people dressed in blue.

When I find their seats, my brother’s the only one there.

“Where’s Zach?”

“I thought he was with you.”

That can’t be good.

What’s worse is I’ve missed the first eight minutes of the second period, and UVM has scored twice.

Seth eyes me and scoffs. “Nice suit.”

He finds the suit thing as ridiculous as I do.

“Shut up,” I mutter and take Zach’s seat.

He ran out of the locker room and kept running, I guess.

I don’t really want to think about why.

“Are you even allowed to be out here?” Seth asks.

“Who the fuck knows. I’ve been given a one-game suspension.”

“No way. For fighting? How is what you did tonight any different than what you normally do?”

“I went after Morris and didn’t give a shit if he had the puck or not. Coach warned us to avoid sloppy penalties, and I flat-out ignored him, so now I’m being punished.”

My brother’s accusatory stare could probably melt the ice from here. “Why did you go after Morris?”

I side-eye him. “You know why.”

“That’s taking my request to look out for Zach a little too far.”

CU gets a shot on goal, and I stand in anticipation, but the puck finds the goalie’s glove.

Damn it.

I grunt and sit back down. “I didn’t go after Morris for you. I did it for Zach. Because he doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit because of how he identifies.”

Seth purses his lips. “I’m not sure that’s what it was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always got the impression something else happened between them. Like, maybe Morris asked him out or something.”

“Zach said it wasn’t like that.” Right? Actually, I don’t think he answered that question at all.

“No offense to my best friend, but his social skills are out of whack. When it comes to things like emotions, he’s clueless. He wouldn’t know if someone was hitting on him or being nice.” Another accusatory stare.

I sigh and turn to him. “Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I told you to look out for him, not mess with him.”

“I’m not messing with him.”

“Making him wear your jersey, beating up his bully …”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Tell me you’re not trying to sleep with him.”

“I’m not trying to sleep with him. Well … I’m not only trying to sleep with him. I also wanna hang out with him.”

“Foster …” God, my brother’s judgmental tone sounds just like Mom’s.

“What?”

“You don’t actually think that’s a good idea, do you?”

I grind my teeth. “Why? Because he’s smart and I’m not? Because he’s kind of weird and odd but adorable at the same time?”

“Because you sleep around, you’re bound for the NHL or at least the AHL next year, and you have people following you around like groupies.”

“If you’re about to accuse me of not being able to stay faithful to someone, I’m gonna lose my shit.”

Vermont scores.

I kick the seat in front of me. “Fuck.”