THEO

          THE COLD bites through my gear, but it’s nothing compared to the ice in my veins right now. The puck is mine, clutched tight to the blade of my stick as I fly down the rink. The roar of the crowd is a dull hum in the back of my mind, drowned out by the sound of my skates slicing through the ice, each push forward bringing me closer to the goal.

I can feel my opponent closing in from behind, his breath hot on the back of my neck, but I don’t let it distract me. My eyes are locked on the goalie, standing firm between the pipes.

Come on Theo. You can do this.
 

I know I could pass it off, let my teammate take the shot. I can hear Coach screaming from the bench, his voice hoarse, telling me to move the puck, to send it to Scott on the left wing. But there’s no way in hell I’m giving it up. Not when I can see the sliver of daylight between the goalie’s pads, that tiny opening that’s just begging to be exploited.
 

Come on Theo! Come on!! My mind screams at me.

The ice beneath me feels like an extension of my body, every stride smooth, every turn precise. My breath puffs out in sharp bursts, fogging up the visor, but I blink the sweat away and push harder, ignoring the burn in my legs.

 I fake right, just enough to make the goalie flinch, then pull the puck back across my body. It’s now or never. The cold air stings my lungs as I wind up and release, the puck snapping off the stick with a crack that echoes through the rink.

Everything slows down, the world narrowing to that black disk streaking towards the net. For a heartbeat, the cold, the noise, the pressure—all of it fades away. There’s only the puck and the net, and the feeling in my gut that this shot is going to hit like no other.

The puck flies true, threading the needle right between the goalie’s pads. For a split second, I can’t believe it—I actually did it. But the eruption of the crowd tells me all I need to know. The roar is deafening, a wave of sound crashing over me, confirming what seemed impossible just a moment ago. I scored. I won.

Before I can even process it, I’m hit by a wall of bodies. First one, then another, and then a whole pile of teammates crushes me to the ice. The cold hits me like a shock, seeping through my gear, but it doesn’t matter. All I can think is, I won. I won for the team.

That’s all that matters.

"Holy fuck! You actually scored!" Leo’s voice cuts through the chaos, and he’s in my face, his eyes wide with disbelief and excitement. He punches my shoulder, hard enough that I’ll feel it later, but all I do is grin. His face is flushed with adrenaline, and I’m sure mine looks the same, red and alive with the rush of the moment.

I did it. We did it.

"You guys, get off!" I choke out between laughs, my chest heaving as I try to wriggle free. Griffin is the first to peel away, followed by the others, their grins as wide as mine. My head feels like it’s going to burst, every pulse a reminder of the adrenaline still coursing through me. The cold, once biting, has seeped away, replaced by the warmth of victory. I stand, shaky but steady, and the roar of the crowd hits me again. They’re chanting my jersey number—19—written in bold black letters on my back.

This was the step to getting into the semi-finals. We deserve this. I deserve this.

 I skate through my teammates, a huge smile stretching across my face. This is what I live for—the noise, the cheers, the celebration, and yeah, maybe the hugs from a few cute chicks when I get back to the locker room. But first, I need to find Coach.

He’s at the entrance, surrounded by photographers, their cameras flashing like crazy. Journalists are all over him, firing off questions faster than he can answer. He looks like he might tell them all to fuck off, but he won’t. This is what he’s wanted for us—for this team. The recognition, the popularity. It’s what we’ve fought for, even when Northridge University didn’t give a damn about hockey.

But now, I know things are going to change.

"There’s my boy!" Coach shouts, and suddenly every head turns toward me. Before I can even react, they’re on me, closing in with their microphones and notepads, all asking the same questions at once.

The rush of excitement turns into a tight knot in my chest, anxiety creeping in as they bombard me.

 “How does it feel to score the winning goal?”

 “What’s the strategy going into the semi-finals?”

  “Do you think the team has what it takes to win the championship?”

  “Can you tell us what was going through your mind during that final play?”

Their questions swirl around me, loud and relentless. My heart starts to race, and for a second, I can’t find my voice. The pressure is suffocating, like I’m back on the ice but the stakes are even higher now. I try to focus, to answer, but the words catch in my throat.

“Uh, it feels amazing,” I finally manage to say, forcing a smile as I try to keep my cool. “The team’s worked so hard for this, and we’re ready for whatever comes next. We’ve got our eyes on the championship, and I just want to keep playing my best.”

But the questions keep coming, each one more intense than the last, and all I can do is nod and try to stay above the rising tide of anxiety threatening to pull me under.

The lights of the cameras flash in my eyes, and the noise of the crowd, reporters, and my own thoughts blend together into a dizzying blur. I try to answer another question, something about our strategy going forward, but my voice sounds distant, like I’m hearing it from underwater. My head spins, and I’m not even sure who’s listening anymore. Everything feels like it’s closing in on me.

“Alright, that’s enough!”

Coach’s voice cuts through the chaos, firm and commanding. The reporters instantly shift their focus to him, giving me a moment to breathe. But before I can gather myself, a strong hand grabs my arm, pulling me away from the flashing lights and the sea of microphones.

It’s Logan, our goalie and my closest friend. He doesn’t say a word, just drags me out of the throng of reporters, away from the overwhelming noise. As we step into the tunnel leading to the locker room, the sound of our teammates’ voices rises, echoing off the walls.

“Gosh, I just wanna scream!” Sam yells, slamming his gloves against the wall. He rips off his mask and throws it somewhere, his face flushed with excitement. The rest of the team bursts into laughter and cheers, the energy in the room electric.
  

“Where’s Theo? Where’s the man of the hour?” Jaxon’s voice booms out, and I can’t help but grin as I step into the room.

 In a flash, the guys swarm me, lifting me up off the ground. The locker room erupts in chants and cheers, their voices blending together in a raucous celebration. My feet leave the ground, and all I can do is laugh, the sound pure and uncontrollable. They carry me around the room like a hero, my name echoing off the walls as I soak in the moment.

This is what it’s all about.
 

They finally put me down, my feet hitting the cold locker room floor as the cheers die down to excited chatter. I’m still buzzing with adrenaline, the weight of what just happened slowly settling in.

“Where are we throwing the party?” Someone calls out, and instantly, everyone starts talking over each other.

“Let’s do it at my apartment, it’s bigger!” Jaxon shouts, yanking his jersey over his head and tossing it into his locker.
     

“Yeah, but my place has the better view!” Leo chimes in, already peeling off his gear with a smirk.

“Forget that, I’ve got a pool,” Griffin adds with a grin, his helmet clattering to the ground as he joins the conversation.
 

The talk of celebration swirls around me, but I slip away, letting them figure it out while I head to my locker. I reach in and grab my phone, my fingers still trembling from the rush of the game.

No messages.  

My heart drops, the adrenaline turning sour in my stomach. I stare at the screen, willing a text to appear, some kind of acknowledgment. Nothing. I told him. He knew we had a game today. He promised he'd be here.

A wave of anger surges through me, sharp and hot, but I swallow it down, forcing myself to breathe. There’s no point in letting it out now. Not here. Not when everyone’s celebrating. But the hurt lingers, coiling tight in my chest, suffocating in its quiet persistence.

I bite the inside of my cheek and dial my dad’s number, hoping to hear his voice, to hear anything that might dull the sting.
 

The phone rings once, twice, three times… then goes to voicemail. I clench my jaw, trying not to throw the damn phone across the room. I just want to scream, to let it all out, but I know that won’t change anything. It won’t fix this.
 

“Yo, Theo!” Sam’s voice snaps me back to reality, and I quickly shove my phone into my locker, plastering a smile on my face before turning around.
   

“What’s up?”
 

“We’re heading out soon, man. You in?” Sam’s grin is infectious, and I can’t help but nod, even though all I want to do is crawl into bed and shut the world out.

“Yeah, I’m in,” I reply, the smile on my face feeling almost real as I join the guys, pushing everything else to the back of my mind. For now, the game, the win, the team—it’s enough to keep the darkness at bay.

●●●

    
“Let’s get fucked up!”

Jaxon bellows, lifting his hands in the air holding a beer in the other. The crowd goes wild, echoing his words with whoops and cheers. In the next second, he’s got his lips on some brunette’s, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. We all know where that’s heading.
     
“Get a fucking room, you asshole!” Logan shouts over the music, laughing as Jaxon shoots him the middle finger, not breaking stride as he carries the girl toward one of the bedrooms.
   
“That dude is a beast,” Sam says, shaking his head, which makes us all crack up.
     
We’re posted up on the side of the living room, where we’ve got a perfect view of all the chaos unfolding. It’s your typical college party, everything amped up to eleven. Girls are grinding on each other, moving to the beat with a kind of reckless abandon that only comes with too much alcohol and not enough inhibitions. A couple of guys are chugging from a giant glass bowl filled with some concoction that probably started as punch and is now more like liquid regret. Couples are making out in every available corner, completely lost in their own world of sloppy kisses and wandering hands.
    
Yeah. Normal stuff.
    
“Let him have his fun,” I shout over the music, trying to make myself heard. “After all, he’s the one who started the no sex till we win vow.”
     
It might sound dumb, but it was our way of keeping focused. Hockey at Noveridge wasn’t exactly a big deal, and after years of trying to make a name for myself here, it finally felt like we were getting somewhere.
     
Maybe that vow had something to do with it.

“True though,” Logan enters, holding up two bottles of beer. “Besides, who doesn’t love sex?”

“Theo!” The gang shout in unison, making me laugh out loud.

“Fuck you! That’s a bloody lie!” I shout back, raising my voice so it cuts through the music.
    
The room turns to look, and I catch a few amused glances before turning back to the group.
   
“Whatever you say, oh holy Theo,” they chant, their laughter mixing with the thrum of the bass.
   
The music is pounding, shaking the walls with bass-heavy beats that thrum through the floor and up into my chest. It’s hot in here, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and the sharp bite of alcohol. I take a swig from my beer, the cold liquid doing little to cool me down as I watch the madness unfold. A girl stumbles past, her laughter shrill as she trips over someone’s abandoned jacket, and I can’t help but grin.
     
“Yo, Theo, you need to stop thinking and get laid, this your night?!” Sam winks, nudging me with his elbow.
      
“Nah, I’m good,” I shake my head, lifting my half-empty beer in response.
     
Logan’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts again. “Dude, you okay? You’re kinda zoning out.”
   
“Yeah, just thinking,” I say, forcing a smile that feels as fake as it probably looks.
   
“Thinking’s for tomorrow, man! Tonight, we celebrate!” He slaps me on the back, hard enough to jolts me back to reality.
  
As I tried to defend myself, I felt the buzz of my phone vibrating in my pocket. Reaching down, I pulled it out and saw my dad’s name lighting up the screen. My stomach twisted.
      
“I gotta take this!” I shout over the music, getting a few nods from the guys as they headed deeper into the throng of partygoers. Within seconds, girls were already circling them like sharks around fresh bait.

 I pushed my way through the crowd, dodging sweaty bodies and the overpowering mix of alcohol and weed in the air. The smell clung to everything, the room thick with heat and noise, making it hard to breathe. Some dude nearly knocked into me, sloshing his beer onto the floor, but I didn’t stop to give him a second look. I had to get out before my dad hung up, thinking I was ignoring him.

The sliding glass door felt like an escape as I shoved it open and stepped into the backyard. The cool night air hit me, sharp and biting, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat inside. The pool glowed with soft blue lights, reflecting the wild party around it. People were jumping in, girls in barely-there bikinis splashing and laughing, some already half-naked. It was chaos, but it was distant, a dull hum compared to the roar in my head.

“Hey, Dad, why didn’t you show—”

My words caught in my throat as I hear a woman’s voice moaning softly in the background. My body went rigid, the noise on the other end of the line freezing me in place. Then I heard my dad, his voice low and rough, calling out a name I knew all too well.

The assistant. Always the fucking assistant.
     
“Fuck!” I spat, clenching my phone so hard I thought it might break. I wanted to throw it, hurl it into the pool, watch it sink to the bottom and take this whole messed-up situation with it. But I couldn’t. I had to keep control.

Control, Theo. Control.
      
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in my hands, but the anger was boiling up, threatening to spill over. I wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but I knew that wouldn’t change anything. It never did.      

“Hey, Theo.”

A voice jolted me out of my thoughts, I shoved the phone back into my pocket, trying to keep my face neutral as I turning to see Becky from one of my classes.
       
She was pulling herself out of the pool, water streaming off her dark hair and down her barely covered body.
     
Her gaze was locked onto me, her breath catching as I got closer. Everything about her—her wet skin, the way her chest rose and fell quickly, the barely-there bikini clinging to her curves—told me exactly what she wanted.
      
“Just wanted to say congrats,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “You guys nailed it.”
        
I force a grin, shoving the anger and disgust down as I walked toward her. She didn’t need to know what was going on in my head. She just needed to be the distraction I was desperate for.
       
“Really? Just that?” I asked, my voice low, as I leaned in, close enough to see her pupils dilate as I grinned at her. Her breath hitched, and I could see the pulse in her neck quicken.

The tension between us was thick, a welcome distraction from the storm brewing inside me. My hand moved to her face, tracing down to her neck, where her pulse hammered against my fingers.

 “I appreciate it love, but how about you show me?"

Her eyes wide open, clearing off guard by the open approach but doesn't say anything since she's been trying to make a move on me since the year started.

She wants to talk but doesn't. She doesn't need to anyway because her body is giving me all the permission I need.

Instantly I kiss her hard, feeling her melt against me. The roar of the party faded into the background, replaced by the taste of her lips, the way she responded to me like she’d been waiting for this all night.

“Knew he’d come around!” Sam’s voice cut through, but I didn’t stop. I just tightened my grip, kissing her deeper, until I could feel her knees go weak.

When I finally pulled away, Becky’s lips were swollen, her eyes half-lidded with desire. Her breathing was uneven, her body still pressed against mine, as if she couldn’t get enough. I needed this. I needed to forget the sound of my dad’s voice, the sickening reality of what I’d overheard. I needed something to block it out, even if it was just for a little while.

“You wanna do this more inside?” I whispered, brushing my lips against her ear, feeling her shiver.

She nodded, her voice barely audible as she agreed.

“Perfect.”

●●●

A/N— HEY GUYS! I JUST WANNA TO SHOW MY THANKS FOR READING THE FIRST CHAPTER. THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING THIS KIND OF PLOT AND IT MIGHT BE A CLICHE BUT ITS MY ABOSULTE FAVORITE KIND AND PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH THE WAY I UPDATE. I'M TRYING FOR IT NOT BE CRINGE HEHE.

ALSO THIS IS A SLOWBURN, LIKE A GOOD YEARNING SLOWBURN THAT WILL MAKE YOU JUST SCREAM AND SAY THEY SHOULD JUST KISS AND FUCK ALREADY!

*GIGGLING AT THE SCENE IN MY MIND* I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE THAT KIND OF BURN BUT IF YOU DON’T, THEN STICK AROUND FOR THE BANTER AND CUTE TEASES.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!