Weak Side : A Fake Dating Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

 The buzzer sounded, and relief sunk down in my gut. We lifted our sticks in the air in celebration and all met at center ice for a team hug as the crowd roared with excitement.

The first game of the season was always like this. It was the intro of the season. The student section was high on adrenaline and booze, and the girls all tore off their jerseys with our names on the back, waving them above their heads. I saw a whole lotta “Brooks” in the crowd, which made sense with this being my last year playing for the Bexley Wolves—I had gained a lot of fans over the last three years.

“That’s how you fuckin’ do it!” Aasher threw his stick on the ice and jumped on my back. I laughed as I skated forward. “You’re coming out with us tonight. Don’t even say no, Theo.”

“I always go to parties after games,” I shouted. “No need to beg me.”

“No one is begging you,” Emory joked, “except every single puck bunny in the stands right now.” He laughed as we all began skating to the bench before taking off toward the locker room, the crowd cheering and banging against the glass.

Silver and black took precedence in the stands as the Westin fans began exiting the rink, defeat making their heads hang low. We played a hell of a game and beat them 3-1. It wasn’t bad for our first time playing with a few new players and a new team dynamic. There was room for improvement on our third line, but at least there weren’t any major penalties like last year’s opening game.

The thing about hockey players? We were hotheads. Every single one of us. It was an instinct I think we were born with. Some of us were testier than others, but nonetheless, we could get downright dirty if provoked.

Just as I began taking my pads off, something caught my eye, and I saw the locker room door shut before someone slipped out. Emory snagged my line of sight, and there was a faint shout in the hall, and that could only mean one thing. “For fuck’s sake,” Emory mumbled, following behind me.

“What the hell is he doing? I’m the fighter on the team.” Emory stood beside me as we watched Aasher holding a Westin player up against the tiled wall by his throat.

“Wolf! Who the fuck is out there?” I ignored Coach’s question as the locker room door shut behind me.

The Westin player that was talking shit the entire game smirked at Aasher before he saw me coming up behind him. His smile wavered as I popped beside Aasher and glared at the side of his face. “Let him go before the reporters come down here and see you holding him by the throat. What the fuck are you doing? And why the fuck are you even in our hallway?” I directed my last question to the Westin player, knowing that there must have been some shit-talking going on during the game that led to him meeting Aasher here for a sparring.

The Westin player’s ungloved hand went to Aasher’s wrist as he tried to free himself from the death grip he was trapped in.

“Get the fuck in the locker room!” Coach shouted, opening the locker room door with a beet-red face.

“Aasher,” I gritted, seconds from lifting my arm up and giving him a snap elbow. Snap the fuck out of it. Emory went on the other side of Aasher and pushed on his chest as he finally let go of the player.

“You deserve a fucking punch for the way you played that game,” I seethed. “Go before I let him land one.”

The Westin player chuckled as he began walking away. Emory was pushing Aasher back into the locker room, and the very second the hallway disappeared behind the door, I started my rant with Aasher. “What the hell was that? Can we get through one fucking game without there being some conflict? You’re lucky we weren’t on the ice when you pulled that shit.”

“We’re hockey players. There is always conflict.” That came from someone in the back, and I was pretty sure it was Jack, one of our younger players.

I reared back. “We can’t play that way in college. If we were on the ice, he would have gotten a penalty, and that hurts the team.”

Aasher was seething, clearly worked up. I nearly put him through a wall as I began getting fired up by the lack of self-control he was posing. “What was that?!” I roared. “You were fine during the game. And we won! Get it together, Aash.”

“You better give me a good fucking reason, son. Or your ass is going to be doing suicides at practice on Monday,” Coach said from behind me.

Aasher paused as he looked over my shoulder at Coach. I let go of his jersey and backed away, bending down to finish taking off my gear. “You sure you want to know?” he asked, voice vibrating with anger.

I glanced at my teammates and their wary expressions and wondered where this was going. This wasn’t good. Someone from the other side of the locker room said, “I don’t think you want the reason, Coach.”

“Well, this just got interesting,” I said. “What did I miss while I was apparently the only one fucking focused?” The last part of my sentence wasn’t necessary, but I was irritated.

Aasher huffed as he placed his hands on his hips angrily. Andrew spoke for him, and it was probably a good thing.

“They were bragging. Saying they were…” Andrew looked at Aasher but kept going. “They were talking about your daughter.”

“Excuse me?” Coach’s face turned an even brighter red than it was during the game. The one thing you didn’t fuck with was the coach’s daughter. It was rule number one with any sport you were in—especially Coach Lennon’s daughter.

“For fuck’s sake. This is why I cursed the moment my wife told me I was going to have a baby girl.” He threw his hands up and stalked off to his office before slamming the door shut and leaving us all to ourselves.

“What did they say?” I asked, looking over at Aasher, who was sweating more than usual beneath his uniform.

“They were talking about taking her V-card. Said they had heard she wanted a hockey player to take it.”

I cringed internally. “Where did they hear that? That sounds made-up and just a way to get someone riled up.” Apparently, that someone was Aasher. 

Someone piped up from the showers. “I say fake news.”

“Whatever. I don’t want to fucking talk about it anymore. They deserved to have their fucking faces bashed in for even suggesting it.” Aasher scoffed before stomping off to the showers.

Berkley tore off his jersey. “They were talking about running a train on her, but honestly, I’m not sure if they were trying to get a rise out of anyone. I think they were discussing it among themselves, and Aasher overheard, and then they saw it was a soft spot, so they ran with it.”

A train? Jesus. That was what they were thinking about while we were playing the opening game? That was exactly why we won and they lost—they were too busy thinking of other things instead of making goals.

“Let’s hope they don’t show up at the party,” Emory added, looking at me.

I knew, without a doubt, that I was most definitely going to have to go to the party now. Like I said, hockey players were hotheads, and the last thing we needed was for Aasher to get in trouble with the law for fighting on campus.

The hockey players used to have their own hockey house, much like the football house that the party was currently unfolding in. Campus used to call it Puck Bunny Meadow for obvious reasons, but two years ago, there was a huge scandal. A freshman was date-raped, and Coach shut it down the very next day. We lost our privilege of having a campus hangout, but I thought it was better that way. It kept us out of trouble. Though, most of the players lived off campus, unlike me. I got free room and board on campus due to my scholarship, so it was financially smarter for me to live in the dorms—even if I was currently rooming with a female.

The front of the football house was brick and looked like your typical frat house. There was a painted sign on the very top of the porch that read Wolves in silver with a makeshift wolf head that someone had obviously painted while intoxicated because I was pretty certain my niece, who was four, could have done a better job.

“No sign of Westin players,” I said, nudging Aasher with my shoulder. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your shit again.”

He said nothing as we walked in. The party was in full swing. Rush was coming down the stairs with a girl trailing him that had no doubt been fucked minutes before by the look of her flushed face and messy hair. “Good game, Brooks!” he said, coming in for a bro handshake. “Beers on the house for you guys.” He looked over at Aasher as he scanned the crowd. “And I banned Westin players, bro. I heard about the fight. This is a calm environment. No fighting here. Our team can’t afford it, and neither can yours.”

“Problem solved,” I said, catching a beer in my hand from Emory.

Aasher seemed distracted as he caught his beer. I watched as he scanned the party, apparently looking for someone, but I paused on an overly drunk girl with a random guy that looked familiar.

I squinted but moved through the party with Aasher by my side, questioning him over his slip after the game.

“You got a hard-on for Coach’s daughter or something?”

“What? No.” He seemed unsure but slugged back his beer, half-shielding his skeptical expression.

“Good, because that would be a hard no.”

I moved out of his space a moment later, accepting his lie for what it was because I knew him better than he thought. I stood beside him as he moved his gaze through the crowd once more, landing on the same shitshow that I was staring at.

“Who is that guy over there? With the sloppy chick?” I asked, feeling more eyes on me the longer I stood in the middle of the party. Chaos was erupting around us, and the smell of needy females started to skim my senses as they began to flock to us.

“I don’t recognize him,” Aasher answered, swigging back more beer. “I know the girl, though. She moves on quickly, apparently.” He took another swig of his beer and moved his attention elsewhere.

“Don’t get shit-faced,” I warned. “Not during the season.”

I had a two-drink limit during the season. I didn’t mind letting loose, but getting uncontrollably drunk wasn’t the smartest decision, and if Coach found out, he’d make us run suicides with a hangover, which often ended with vomiting on the ice. We’d all leave cursing our bad decisions, full of regret.

“Good game, Wolf.” Jess smiled at me as she walked past, shaking her tight ass a little more than usual. She turned around and began to walk backward as she tipped her head and swallowed a shot. “Was waiting for a text from you but didn’t get one.”

I squinted my eyes at her and whispered in her direction, “You know I don’t have the energy after a game, Jess.” She is becoming very needy. I shifted my attention from her seductive gaze, and my mood was instantly edged with annoyance.

Too many girls were beginning to loiter around us, and I wasn’t lying to Jess. Unless a girl was offering to suck me off to fulfill her own fantasies, it was a no-go. Jess wasn’t that type of girl. Our arrangement was just as much for me as it was for her. I always repaid her in the bedroom.

An hour had passed, and after a quick game of beer pong, I was ready to head home. I’d had one too many back pats and cheers for winning the game and too many swift kisses from girls that were whispering in my ear for more. Aasher kept his word. He hadn’t gotten drunk, but he did keep his eye on the crowd, looking for someone.

“You ready?” I asked, nodding to the door.

He pulled his gaze from someone that was tucked in the back. “I’m gonna stay.”

I got a better look at the girl in the corner and groaned. “Bro, no.”

“What?”

“You better stop, dude. It’s noticeable as fuck, even with her hiding out in the back.”

“What are you talking about?” Aasher said, acting as if I couldn’t see Coach’s daughter—the meek, nerdy girl that did not belong at a party like this.

Landon showed up out of nowhere and leaned in between us. “You eye-fucking the coach’s daughter is what he’s talking about.”

He scoffed. “I’m not eye-fucking her. I’m just making sure she’s…safe. Did you hear the way those Westin players were talking about her?”

“But they’re not even here, and why do you feel the responsibility to keep her safe?” I cocked an eyebrow. He could deny it all he wanted, but he wasn’t telling the truth.

Aasher turned his back to me without answering, and I gave Landon a nod that was a silent agreement between us that he’d keep an eye on the team. I spun around with the confirmation and made my way through the party. The crowd was thinning out as the night went on, but I was stupid to think I could make it to the door without catching Jess’s eye again. She nodded to the stairs and raised her brows. I shook my head. Not tonight.

Just as I opened the door and the cold air flowed into the stuffy entryway, I turned and glanced at the stairs. I caught the back end of the inebriated girl being pulled by a hand, which wasn’t unusual, but when I saw who was pulling her, I did another double-take.

Oh, shit. That was how I knew him. The guy that was flirting with her earlier was familiar to me, and it wasn’t because we’d had classes together. Claire’s face flashed in my brain like a memory I couldn’t hide from, and confusion made me pause for far longer than I meant to. Fuck, this made a lot of sense. 

“Change your mind?” Jess’s voice broke me out of my stupor, and there was something that had almost made me say yes but not because I wanted to fuck her. More because I wanted to investigate what Claire’s boyfriend was doing going upstairs with another girl. I mean, it was kind of obvious, but as far as I knew, they hadn’t broken up.

“No,” I snapped to Jess before hastily walking out the door and heading straight for the dorms.