Page 10 of Dangle

Laughter blew across the side of my head. “Yeah, kid. We’ll go with that, but I think we both know that’s not what I meant.”

“Shit,” I whispered, the word slipping out between barely parted lips. How the hell did I not hear the door? The guy’s cock nearly made me come in my gear but…

“Not the first I’ve seen in the locker room, but usually it’s the other way around,” Storm said with a laugh.

“Fuck,” I sputtered, doing my best to keep my affect as flat as possible since the cameras had the two of us on the jumbotron. “Coach…”

“No worries, kid. I’m queer too. I don’t care who you fuck. However, it does kind of fly in the face of the advice I gave you earlier.”

“I know, Coach, but…umm…”

“Listen, no explanations needed, but if you want, then once we get this game in the win column, you and I can sit down with Coach Grigor to talk. Okay?”

The jumbotron screen split, showing Coach Storm and me, then my parents. I smiled and waved, playing the dutiful, happy son even though I never really filled that role. At least not well.

“Looks like some last-minute game strategy going on between The Storm and the Maulers’ Captain.”

The announcers’ voices cut through the music still playing overhead. I knew those would fade away for me when the puck dropped. And I couldn’t wait.

The last notesof the anthem faded away. Coach Storm nodded at Coach Grigor. “You know the game plan. You know what they’re bringing to the arena. Trust the guys on your line to be where they should be and bring this one home.”

“You heard ‘em, boys. Let’s bury their asses. Maulers on three. One, two, three!”

“MAULERS!” The cries of my teammates mingled together, not synchronized, but definitely a harmony I loved to hear.

I skated from the bench to center ice, settling in on the right wing. I’d given up the center spot for Aiden without complaint. He was the better center. And I played a damn good wing: better on my strong side as most of us were, but I could play just as well offhanded. My father bitched about it?—

“I’m so glad your daddy is such a supportive parent.”

I rolled my eyes at the chirp. Will Davies from Rainier was a cunt-faced little bitch who I’d wanted to smack on more than one occasion.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” I asked, while wishing these assholes would get new, better material.

“Because you play like shit every time he sits his entitled, cheating ass in the stands.”

“Oh, so you’ve met.”

Davies growled, just as the puck dropped, his center taking the face-off.

“Move, asshole, I’ve got a puck to steal.”

“Isaiah, Malachek, you guys have media,”the communications director yelled.

“Fuck.”

“It’s fine. The calls were bullshit,” Isaac said.

A glare landed on his face when I turned to him. “First, no, they weren’t. Don’t fucking lie. I played a shitty, dirty game. We all know it, and so does the media. And two, my fucking father is in town. Do you think he gives a damn about anything other than winning?”

Pity dripped from Isaac’s face for a split second, and I seriously considered punching him in the face, but I wanted to get laid. After a game like that, getting something soft and pretty under me that wanted me to be gentle and considerate left me soft. No, I needed big, hard, and manly with a thing for rough sex.

Isaac wasn’t the only guy I could lay pipe to, but he was one of the two handiest since I lived with him and his twin brother, who was also queer. So, yeah, punching Isaac wouldn’t only close his bedroom door; it would also slam shut Isaiah’s, and vice versa. Those two were freaking protective of one another. They’d throw down with each other, but any idiot who stepped up to one or the other was lucky if they didn’t get their teeth kicked in.

So.

Deep, deep, deep breath.

Hold.