AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Boys,” Denny says in a stern voice, as if he hadn’t been running the halls moments ago, frantically trying to find the one thing he thinks his player needs. I scan each kid, and when my eyes land on Brayden. Still in his hockey gear, my heart breaks a little. His head is cast down, staring at the floor at his broken stick. Kal sits beside him, staring down at the same spot, while Trayton sits on the other side of Brayden, flipping a coin, staring up at me blankly.
Brayden’s head slowly rises, and confusion mares his face the minute he sees me. I can see the devastation on his face, but most of all. I see hurt; he is trying to mask it with anger, but I see it. I see him.
“You good?” I softly whisper, holding his stare. He frowns, as if he doesn’t understand why I’m here or why I’m asking, then gently nods and casts his eyes back down. Denny begins going into a speech, telling them everything was perfect until it wasn’t. Each player hangs their head in shame as if what Brayden had done, they have all done. It’s clear they’re a team. They don’t blame Brayden; they don’t even seem angry with Brayden. They all take the blame for what happened, and it makes me realize why Den respects them so much.
“You can all go. Brayden, I want to talk in my office when you’re changed.” Den shouts while everyone gets up and walks past Brayden, slapping him on the shoulder. I hear whispering and glance to my left to see Kal kneeling down between Brayden’s legs, talking to him. Brayden doesn’t look at Kal, but Kal keeps whispering to him. I catch on to a few of the words, and it’s clear Kal thinks the world of Bray.
“Don’t lose your cool. Listen to what Coach has to say.” Kal whispers “You killed it today. Don’t let one small fuck up ruinthe entire season.” His hands land with a slap on Brayden’s shoulder. “Come find me after, OK?” He finishes before standing up and walking toward the doors and past me.
“Professor,” Kal nods at me and drops his head quickly. It’s as if he is shy or scared of me. I can’t quite work out which one it is yet.
“What did I say about, Professor?” I mutter as he walks past.
“Sorry, Mr. Stiles,” he says bluntly, with his back to me as he carries on walking, which is weird, but whatever. Trayton stands there frowning at the back of Kal’s head and then swings his attention at me before subtly nodding and walking off. I can see Trayton pick up the pace to come beside Kal and whispers to him. I’m not taking it personally; they have been through a lot tonight. When I turn back, Brayden is nowhere to be seen, I assume he has gone into the office. I won’t interrupt. I sit down where Kal was sitting and wait. I hear a door open about ten minutes later and out walks Denny. The stress was clear in his face, the frown lines across his head, with a fixed scowl. The bloodshot, tired eyes, and the darkening circles that surround them.
“I’ll meet you at the bar in a little while,” I say as Denny approaches me. He frowns, his eyes flickering back to where he just came from, and then back to me. I smile and nod at him again, showing it’s OK. “I’ll be two minutes.” Denny finally nods and leaves without another word. Brayden turns the corner and stops in his tracks.
“I know I wasn’t in class today. I had something to deal with, I don’t nee—”
“I’m not here for class. I’m not Mr. Stiles tonight, Brayden. I’m just Bohdi. Pretend you don’t even know me right now.” Where I’m going with this, I don’t know, and why I’m even sitting here. I still don’t fucking know. Something draws me to this boy, it’s as if I can see him drowning and I need to save him. He lets out adeep sigh and moves beside me, opening his locker and grabbing his clothes. “Look, I’m tired. I don’t know what you want me to say. I got a temper on the ice. Everyone knows it got the best of me tonight, I guess.”
“It wasn’t anything else that made you switch in that moment? You were about to take a shot that even I know would have gone in. What made you drop the stick and pummel that guy?”
“Why do you want to know?” he shoots back.
“Curious, I guess.” Brayden grabs more of his clothes in his hand, still in his hockey gear, and turns to walk away. He stops and turns around.
“Sir.” His scratchy voice, as if he is beyond tired, breaks through the silence. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but whatever it is, it won’t work with me. Just leave it and leave me, OK,” he says, and not even in a rude way, but in a tired and fed-up manner as though he’s given up on everything, including hockey. I don’t push because what can I say? Why am I even here? Why do I even care? I don’t know, that’s the thing. The only thing I know is that seeing Brayden sad chips away at me.
I don’t like it.
I really don’t fucking like it.
Chapter nine
Brayden
Why does it seem as if my head is being smashed with a bat, and why is it unbearably hot?
Reluctantly, I open my eyes, only to shut them immediately. The sun shining into my room has me squinting and trying to roll over, only to be greeted by more warmth. What in the actual hell? A hard body lies between me and my wall. With a groan and a struggle, I finally free myself from my cramped single bed. I can’t recall anything, especially how I ended up completely naked. My eyesight follows my clothes and someone else’s from the door to my bed. I spin on my heels and look at the body in my bed. Lance lies on top of the covers, butt-naked also, catching flies. I glance over at the bed on the opposite wall and tucked up fast asleep is Cope. I really don’t deserve him as a roomie. Not only is he one of my best teammates, but the unlucky fucker got saddled with me as a roomie. The number of mornings he had to wake up to not only my bare ass but someone else’s would put you off asses for life.
I wince, hoping we weren’t loud last night, not that Cope ever mentions it, but still. After everything yesterday, I think I’m being quite a jerk right now. I turn to my bed and lean down, gently shaking Lance.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles, pushing his face further into the pillow.
“You gotta go,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down. I don’t think I can face Cope this morning, not even for this, but how I acted yesterday. I know the only place that will help is the gym, and having Lance here is delaying that.
“I’ve got to go out. Get up and go.” I sigh before grabbing some gym clothes and walking into the bathroom. I slouch myself against the door and let my head lull back. Closing my eyes, the disaster that happened yesterday replays over in my head. I was on top of the world on the ice. I was home. Then a few words and it was ruined. I always get told not only by Coach, but by Kal, ‘don’t rise to it. Control your anger on the ice, Quake.’ That’s all I ever hear, and I try, I really do. But when it comes to my brother, that’s the one person I can’t hear bad about. They don’t know what it was like growing up for us; they don’t know the sacrifice he made for me. He is the way he is because of me. Images of plumbing Mackey’s face come into a clear vision in my head. I don’t even know where Bexley went after the game. I pull my phone out of the pocket of the pants I picked up and see I tried to call him last night. Thankfully, he didn’t pick up. God knows what I would have said. I don’t want him to know that the fight started over him. He pulls himself away from me too much as it is. If I tell him I potentially fucked up my future because someone bad mouthed him, he will pull even further away from me. Him being there yesterday was huge and I don’t think he realized what it meant to me.
I scrub my hand down my face, trying to get rid of the destructive energy that fills me, and walk over to the sink. Isplash water on my face, trying to wake myself up and brush my teeth. I’m praying for everything; Lance is gone by the time I’m out of this bathroom. He knows this dance; he knows that he always has to go in the end. He’s a bit of fun. Someone I need when I need to let steam off.
I take more time than needed to be in the bathroom and stroll out. Cope is still fast asleep, thank God, and my bed is neatly made, and there is no longer a body lying there.
I slip my trainers on and grab a bottle of water before leaving. It’s 9 a.m. on a Sunday, I can’t imagine the gym is full. I make my way across campus, barely seeing anyone, thankfully. I need to sweat this sensation out of me. The sense that I let everyone down yesterday, followed by going out and getting wasted at a bar and not remembering anything, is quickly filling me with dread and anxiety.
No one likes not knowing what they did when they were drunk.
As I get closer to the doors, I break into a small sprint, eager to get inside the gym. As soon as those gym doors open and I see the open space empty, I let out a sigh of relief that I felt I have been holding in since I left my dorm. This is what I needed, no one to disrupt me and to sweat all this alcohol out of my system. I jump straight on the treadmill to get myself warmed up. Images of yesterday still filter through my brain even though I have music filling my ears, which normally always distracts me. Even with increased speed and pushing myself to the limit, nothing changes. As I step off the treadmill, anger consumes me, and I crave to unleash my fury on Mackey’s face once more. I need to get this anger out of me. With the sweat running down my back, I strip my top off. I know Coach will kill me if he finds out, as well as Kal, but I need to get this out of my system and the only way to do that is the boxing unit. This is connected to the gym, but the coach is skeptical about us using it. He saysnot only are our legs precious, but our hands need to hold those sticks so we can't fuck them up. Even though I played a game and scored with a fractured wrist, the coach is strict about things such as this. Fuck it. As I open the door, I freeze in place. Right in front of me, there’s a guy facing away, shirtless, and he’s intensely going in on the bag. Like a continuous cycle, he holds onto anger and must release it with every connection to the bag. The exposed back is coated in sweat, creating a shimmering effect when the light hits it. Every punch causes his broad back to flex and his muscles to contract. My gaze follows the perfectly shaped ass embraced by tight shorts, revealing strong, muscular legs. My cock stirs in my shorts as my eyes meet the tattoos that run down both arms and across his upper back. His back is fucking beautiful. I can’t imagine what his front loo—
