Ice Bet: A Forbidden Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

I was so close.

I had one foot in the locker room and one in my father’s office when the clanking of hockey skates against the floor filled the locker room.

After sitting in the stands and watching the hockey team skate along the ice with ease for ten minutes, I was more than ready to grab my purse that I had regrettably left on the chair perched in front of my dad’s desk and head to my apartment.

It was dire that he gave me his office keys so I could rush to his office, snag my purse, and head to my car all before he dismissed his players. But here I was. Stuck.

Never mind the few seconds I had to take to gather my breath after almost stepping foot onto the ice. It was pathetic, yes, but my shaky hands and clammy palms reminded me that I had a lot to accomplish before tryouts.

Now I was trapped, waiting for the hockey team to stop messing around and leave so I could slip out. I was meeting Sutton at our apartment with all her stuff so I could help her move in.

I popped open my texts to message her. Sutton and I met last semester when I had to come take a final in person instead of online, and we hit it off immediately. She was the first friend I made at Bexley U, but since we both had an intense hatred for hockey players, we were instant besties—at least according to her.

It was girl math. We didn’t make the rules.

Plus, most of my previous friendships ended when I abruptly took my sabbatical from skating and transferred from Rosewood. It proved that the majority of them weren’t true friendships anyway.

Me: I’m going to be a little late. I’m stuck in my dad’s office because there is no way I’m walking through the locker room while the guys undress from practice.

My legs dangled off the edge of the desk as I waited for Sutton to text back. I ignored the photos of me in various figure skating poses from past routines hanging along the wall, because they only reminded me of what I’d lost.

Instead, my gaze traveled to the office door. I caught the loud “oohs” and “ahhs” floating in from the locker room, and I rolled my eyes. Why were they so loud? The men’s locker room was vastly different from the women’s. Or maybe it was just the difference in hockey players and figure skaters. We were poised and composed. There wasn’t much conversation that occurred between us, and there was certainly no yelling.

Sutton: Why refuse? Sneak a glimpse of those muscles. You and I both know those boys are ripped. That’s how they get away with being complete assholes.

I suppressed a laugh. It was true. I went to text her back but stopped mid-sentence when I heard my name.

“Sounds like some of you are trying to score with Riley. Who will be the first to make her fall?”

I popped up from the edge of my father’s desk and shoved my phone in my back pocket. Excuse me, what?

“Maybe you?”

I had no idea who was talking or who the person was directing their conversation to, but I suppressed the need to get closer to the door and find out. The mortification of them knowing I was in here while they walked around butt-ass naked would be enough to make me self-combust. I didn’t necessarily care what they thought about me, but the rumors would start immediately, and they’d think I was either a stalker or a puck bunny.

Not that there was much of a difference.

“Uptight and cold aren’t my type, even without the thought of Coach coming at me with a shotgun.”

My mouth fell open at the jab. I could fool anyone with my blasé front of hating hockey players, but I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel the sting of that insult. I was too focused on ignoring the irrational hurt to continue listening to their conversation, only catching snippets here and there.

“So it’s settled. Whoever gets to her first, wins.” 

They were assholes. Every one of them.

“Are we talkin’ sex or what?”

“We should do a point system.”

A point system?! As if I were a game? My palms stung with the clenching of my fists.

“Ice bet secured.”

My face was hot. I wanted to stomp my way into their locker room and stare each of them in the eye to give them a little scare. It would be so easy for me to run to my dad and get their asses handed to them, or worse. I could probably get them kicked off their precious little hockey team that they were all so passionate about, but some games were better played with slow manipulation.

I wouldn’t appear like an opponent to them. They were too blind to see me for what I really was: an enemy.

They could try all they wanted, despite my father’s threats, but none of them would ever get close enough to win their little ice bet. In fact, the entire Bexley U hockey team was going to have the biggest case of blue balls there ever was.

I sure hope it didn’t affect their skill on the ice.

Eventually, I made my way back to my apartment. It didn’t take long for the locker room to clear, but it was enough time for my irritation to lessen. That was, until I stepped out of the elevator and was reminded who my neighbors were.

“Finally!” Sutton flung herself off our door and rushed over to me, leaving my enemies to linger in the open space. Sutton leaned in close. “What took you so long? I’ve been standing here having a pointless conversation with the new guy for entirely too long.”

New guy?

I peeked around the curtain of Sutton’s summery blonde hair and shuffled backward in surprise. “What is he doing here at Bexley U?”

“You know him?” she asked.

The unease in my stomach didn’t stop me from walking toward Graham Sullivan. He was likely the only person on this campus that knew me beyond my label of being Coach Lennon’s daughter.

His cheek pulled, revealing his white smile. “I was wondering when I’d run into you. You were on a mission earlier in the locker room, or I would have said hi.”

“The locker room?” You mean the same dreaded locker room where my name was being thrown around like fucking confetti. “Are you a student at Bexley U now? What happened to Rosewood?”

“I could ask you the same.”

My eyes immediately fell to the speckled tile that lined the hallway. I knew no one heard my pulse strumming like a guitar, but I felt it everywhere.

“The last time I saw you was at the Delta house with Gray.” he said.

Ah, yes. The memories. 

Delta Kappa was the fraternity that my ex was in, and their house was the most popular party spot on campus.

Sutton made an obnoxious noise that sounded like a buzzer, pulling my attention away. Her hand fell into mine, and she tsked her tongue. “We don’t talk about exes here. Now scoot along, boys. I’m moving in this evening, and we have plans that don’t involve hockey players.”

“You’re living here too?” Efrain asked over his shoulder while putting his key in the door. “What happened to the house on Fourth with Crew?”

Ford smacked Efrain against the chest. “She just said we don’t talk about exes. Keep up, bro.”

“Wait, you and Crew broke up?”

Sutton pulled me toward our door, and I almost tripped because I was too busy trying to match Ford’s, Efrain’s, and Graham’s—or I guess Sully as they called him—voices to the not-so-distant memory of my name being shuffled around the locker room an hour prior.

Once Sutton and I were in our apartment and she slammed the door, her hands fell to her hips. “Great, now my breakup is going to be the talk of campus. It’s already floating around everywhere online that has any interest in the NHL.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll blow over soon. No one will linger on your breakup for too long,” I tried to reassure her, but we both knew it was a lie. College was one thing. The NHL was idolized. The players were a hot topic everywhere, and it just so happened that Sutton’s ex, Crew Hart, was one of the best players the NHL acquired for the new season. “He’s an asshole for letting you go. All hockey players are assholes, remember?”

She tried to laugh it off, but it wasn’t very convincing. Her eyes glossed over, but she turned around and took in her new apartment.

“This is so much better than my old place.” Her tiny nose wiggled. “Smells better too. Do you know what it’s like to live in a house with sweaty athletes?”

“After being trapped in the locker room and smelling a bunch of hockey players after they discarded their pads, I think I can imagine.”

Sutton took my response in stride and nodded. “Pigs.”

I laughed. “Total pigs.”

“Just like Crew’s friends who tried to keep me from putting my shit in my car earlier. They begged me to stay. Lennox got on his knees and everything.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. They don’t fool me, though. They’ve been trying to swoop in to mend my heart since Crew left, which just so happened to involve their penises.”

I laughed out loud. “Definitely pigs.”

After giving her the short, two-second tour of our apartment, we headed for the door to grab her things.

“There isn’t much—” Sutton stopped mid-sentence. I bounced off her back when she stopped walking, and a huff of air left my chest. I peered around her while rubbing my forehead.

Ford, Efrain, Berkley, Graham, and—to my displeasure—Aasher were each stacking Sutton’s boxes on top of one another in front of our door.

Ford smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth. “All done, babes.”

Sutton recovered quickly after the initial surprise. She leaned forward and pecked Ford on the cheek. “You always were my favorite. Thanks, guys.”

Once they disappeared in their apartment, Sutton glanced at me and shrugged. “Okay, maybe they aren’t all assholes.”

I scoffed, knowing better. “Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time for them to show their true colors.”