Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

It’s not like I’ve never played for other teams or moved out of home, but the decision feels bigger this time around.

I blame Ezra.

Because I can.

Because he’s always there.

Because out of all the other players in the league, he’s the one guy I can’t stand and yet the one person our team seems set on me getting along with. The photos from the charity day are everywhere, and the GM and PR department are eating up all the attention Ezra’s and my “bromance” is getting.

If the press knew how much time we spent bickering as opposed to actually working at the shelter, they’d be printing different stories.

I have to admit Ezra did better than I was expecting. He complained, but he got the job done. And then with the public, and that kid …

I saw a different side of him. A side I admired. I hold my orientation close to my chest because I don’t want it to define me, but watching how grateful that teenager was to see representation in pro sports made me want to kick my own ass for staying out of the spotlight.

When I get back to my room, I drop back on my bed. Some of the team were heading out for a quiet dinner, but I turned down the invite. The sooner I get to know these guys, the better, but we have an early flight tomorrow, and I really need a good night’s rest since I haven’t had one since leaving Philly.

It’s just started to get dark outside as I finally drift off, but I’m woken a moment later by my phone blaring through the room.

“’Ello?” I answer groggily.

“Are you serious right now?” comes Ezra’s incensed reply.

My lips curl into a smile, while my eyes stayed closed. “Ah. Always good to hear your voice.”

“Get your ass to this team dinner. It’s the least you could do since you got cat juju all over my game.”

I chuckle. “You did what with a cat?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Is there a point to this call?”

“Yeah. We did rock, paper, scissors over who would call you, and I’m the one who got screwed.” There’s noise in the background. “I have to make sure you’re on your way.”

“I’m not.”

“Then get on your way.”

I hum, pretending to think about it. “No.”

Ezra curses in what sounds like Polish. “Moreau is here.”

“Good.”

“He came with Diedrich.”

“Okay.”

Ezra sighs. “Why aren’t you coming?”

“I’m not turned on.”

He swears again, this time because he really should have expected that answer. “Funny.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re such a dick.” Frustration bleeds into his voice, and the more annoyed he becomes, the more my cock starts to take notice. I almost want to suggest that if he begs me, I’ll come—maybe in more than one way—but I really need to forget what happened between us.

We’re on the same team now, and encouraging anything like that will make things messy. Maybe I shouldn’t go back to my apartment tomorrow after all. All I could picture when I walked into that hallway was Ezra pushed up against the wall, no matter how many times I told myself to move on.

The one time I let my dick take control, and this is where I end up.

“Come on, Hayes. I thought you weren’t going to let your opinion of me get in the way of winning the Cup?”

“I’m not, but I don’t see how going out the night before a game is going to help with that.”

“It’s called team bonding.”

“It’s called a distraction.” I finally open my eyes and look around the dark room. “You’re good at those.”

“Distractions?”

“Obviously.”

His voice drops to a delicious level that my body agrees with. “See, it almost sounds like you’re calling me a distraction.”

“I’d have to notice you to find you distracting.”

“You noticed me when you were dicking me out.”

Of course he had to go there. “Are you going to bring that up every conversation we have?”

“Probably. You don’t like it, so that makes it fun.”

“For you … Look, I know we don’t like each other, so I’m going to say this once and never again. I’m pissed about the New Jersey game, and yes I feel like it was my fault. Now tomorrow, we’re playing against my old team, and I have more on the line than any of you to make sure we win.” I’ve fought too hard for my first line spot, and I’ll do anything to hold on to it. “If I want to look you guys in the eye again, it needs to happen. I’m so sorry you lost the rock, paper, scissors thing, but I’m not coming. I’m going to bed, and I recommend you all do the same. O’Ryan is going to make sure Philly is ready to show Moreau and me what we’re missing.”

There’s silence on the other end, and I wait, expecting Ezra to come back with a stupid, obnoxious comment. He doesn’t.