Page 18 of Goalie interference

It took a few minutes, but it worked!

It started to go down, and I felt normal enough, but what the fuck was that?

Why the hell did I react that way?

Chapter 9

Thayer

The last thing I should have done was put my hands on Ash–or hand, I suppose.

It was something I'd noticed that first week–he responded to control. He didn’t necessarily like giving up control, but he responded well to me taking it from him. I didn’t doubt that holding on to him would work, but I shouldn't have done it.

I definitely should not have done it when anyone could have walked in and seen it.

The room felt wired after that–overstimulating.

Ash rushed off to the showers, and I made myself busy with anything. I was anyone's lackey at that point, packing bags or massaging limbs until there were no tasks left for me.

We were meant to head back to Ann Arbor tonight, but with how much snow had fallen today, I doubted it very much. That doubt was confirmed when Reed came in, notifying the boys that they were staying in Kalamazoo tonight, whether they liked it or not.

Carp let out a groan, but I wasn’t sure if that was from the news or if I hit a nerve, massaging his shoulder for him. I assumed it was the news–the guys hated staying somewhere they didn’t have to, especially tonight.

They’d just lost a game to these jerks, pretty brutally.

A wave of boys came out of the showers, including Ash with a towel around his waist and a flush on his face that I was choosing to believe came from the shower. I forced my eyes back down at Carp, kneading his muscle with more focus than required–I clearly needed to reprimand my brain tonight.

It needed to stop doing things that would get us in trouble–like taking note of how the water dripping off Ash’s chest bent to each rigid muscle–stop.

“Better?” I asked Carp, lightly patting his shoulder as I straightened back out.

“Much–thanks,” he sighed, smiling up at me appreciatively.

Brushing my hands off, I caught just the lightest glance of Ash out of the corner of my eye and froze.

He was glaring at Carp, and if looks could kill, Carp would have been dead ten times over by now. I knew the two of them were roommates on campus, so the likelihood Carp had done something to piss him off was high.

It was apparently very easy to piss him off…and even easier to subdue him–nope.

The guys started packing up, clearing out of the locker room, and out to the bus to head to the hotel. I needed to speak with Ash, clear the air about what had happened, but he left in the wave of guys. I assumed he would be avoiding me again, not even looking at me.

But I discovered what was worse than Ash’s avoidance–his angry glare.

◆◆◆

The guys all had dinner together at the hotel, but Ash was in a mood. They’d pick on him and poke fun at the loss, but I could tell Ash was taking it more personally than all of them probably meant.

I’d been waiting patiently for Ash to separate off, but it was like he could tell–he stuck by Tommy like they were suddenly best friends. I watched those two eat so slowly you'd think I was watching paint dry, but when my moment struck, I didn’t hesitate.

Ash took his key from Reed, thanking him for something before heading off down the hall. The rest of the team had been separated to their rooms, leaving the coaching staff and Ash in the hallway.

They went to their rooms, and I pounced.

“Ash,” I said quickly, quietly, as I approached him in the empty hallway.

Ash didn’t slow down or even acknowledge me in any way–just kept on walking like he didn't hear me.

“Ash,” I said a little more sternly, fisting the hand that was fighting to reach up and grab the nape of his neck again.