Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

I grit my teeth. “You’d think.”

Anton walks by me to get on the bus but pauses with a frown on his face. It looks like he’s about to ask if I’m okay, but I quickly turn my back on him.

“Dad, I really do have to go. Everyone’s on the bus already.”

“Do better. I didn’t spend my life savings building you up to be one of the greats for nothing.”

“Always good to hear from you, Dad,” I say dryly.

He ends the call.

I force down a steadying breath, trying to channel the fuckboy I’m known for being, and when I almost have it under control, I turn to climb onto the bus … and almost crash into Anton.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me for a moment. Then he reaches out and grips the back of my neck, steering me ahead of him. I think I’ve managed to avoid having to explain or talk about it when he leans in, warm breath in my ear, and says, “I’m sorry.”

When he lets me go, I always want to ask him not to.

I climb on the bus and throw myself in the first available seat, but by the time we’ve reached the hotel, I’ve shaken off the cloud of negativity. Over the years, it’s gotten faster and easier to block it out.

“I’m going to go sulk into a bottle of tequila,” Larsen says when we reach the lobby.

“Don’t write yourself off,” Diedrich says. “We have the game against Colorado in two days.”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

I nudge Anton. “I’m hanging out with Tripp and Dex again if you want to join.”

“What happened to your whole when the season’s on, everyone else is the enemy?”

“Queer collective loophole. We have each other’s backs no matter what.”

“Wait, is Dex—”

“Ha, nope. He and Tripp are just joined at the hip. It’s casual, not a queer collective thing tonight. There will be some rubbing it in our faces that they kicked our asses, but Tripp’s one of my closest friends, so we take advantage of what little time we have to see each other. Our whole group is like that.” If Anton is serious about coming out—he might not be. Telling one fan that he’s queer doesn’t mean he’s ready to hold a press conference, but I want him to know that he has support.

“I’ll come.” Anton doesn’t sound too confident, and I expect him to back out, but the offer’s there.

“Meet back here in ten? I’m gonna head up to my room and change into something less formal. We’re only hanging out at Tripp’s place.”

“What, no showboating around town? Do you feel okay?”

“Funny. But the last thing I want to do is show my face in public after that shitshow of a game.” It’s weird because our team has been all over the place, and I don’t think it has anything to do with how our opponents are playing. Whenever we’ve lost, it hasn’t been because the other team has been phenomenal, though I will say Tripp played the game of his life tonight. The only reason we didn’t score was because of him. But our last few games, there’s been a disconnect between the team when we’ve lost.

Like any time the score doesn’t go our way, I overanalyze everything. It’s hard not to because my competitive side makes me want to find a solution.

When I do the math though, I find a pattern.

We win on the nights after Anton and I hook up and lose on the games when we haven’t.

Interesting …

When Anton and I meet back up in the lobby, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him the only logical conclusion to our team problem is for us to have sex every single night, but that’s taking superstition a little too far. Even for me.

It might be a good excuse to carry on what we’re doing though. Minus the pranks. I didn’t think last night’s would blow up on social media like it did, though I should have known.

As we wait for our Uber to arrive in the Uber pickup bay, I feel Anton staring at me.

For some reason, nerves kick in.

I’ve gone totally casual in sweats and a hoodie unlike him, who’s in jeans and a T-shirt, but I can’t tell if he’s checking me out or judging my fashion sense. “What?” I ask.

“You’re quiet. It’s … unnerving.”

“I thought you said you liked it when I’m quiet?”

“I take it back. It’s too weird.”

I gasp. “Are you saying you like my loudmouthed ways?”

“And now I’m confused which is worse.”

I step closer, Anton actually laughing with me, not at me. “You okay with Dex figuring out you’re gay? Because even though he’s oblivious to most things, he’ll clue in to that. Tripp knows already.”

“Yeah. If they’re friends of yours, I trust them too.”

I’m not sure if he means to drop the too part, but it floods me with unexpected warmth. People don’t trust me often. Trust me to have fun and say dumb crap? All the time. But outside of the Collective, people don’t trust trust me. Especially not someone I’m hooking up with.