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“Do you want to die tonight, Soto?” I raged. Tommy came up behind me and held the back of my jersey as I skated forward. “What the fuck is your problem!?”
Soto got up in my face, the veins on his forehead looking like they were staging a protest, bulging and pulsating theatrically. "One of these days, I’m going to fuck your little girlfriend’s cunt, show her how a real man’s dick feels. I think I’ll do it bare. Yeah. Fill her with my cum, leave it there for you to find it…"
Any sanity I had left snapped. Before I even had a chance to think, I ripped off my gloves, tore off his helmet, and my right fist shot forward like a rocket, connecting with Soto's jaw with a satisfying crack. His head snapped to the side, and for a split second, there was stunned silence on the ice as everyone processed what had just happened.
But that split second of quiet didn't last long. Soto spit his mouth guard out and roared in fury, launching himself at me with a wild swing. I dodged his punch and countered with a swift uppercut to his gut. He staggered back, clutching his stomach.
I didn’t stop though, I continued landing blows with calculated ferocity. Soto's attempts to fight back were feeble in comparison. He swung wildly, but I bobbed and weaved, evading his hits with ease.
As the crowd roared, my focus sharpened. I could see the shock and disbelief in Soto's eyes as he realized he was outmatched. He tried to tackle me to the ice, but I spun out of his grasp. In a final, desperate move, he lunged at me, but I sidestepped him and delivered a crushing blow to his ribs.
Soto crumpled to the ice, gasping for air and clutching his side in agony. The referee rushed in to separate us, and my adrenaline-fueled rage began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of satisfaction. The crowd was on its feet, some cheering, others stunned into silence by the spectacle they had just witnessed.
I stood there, panting, my knuckles aching from the impact of my punches. Soto, on the other hand, was a mess, his face swollen and bruised, blood trickling from a split lip.
He looked fucking pathetic. People had better be seeing pictures of this because I wanted Lincoln to see my work.
He’d be so proud of me.
The refs were trying to figure out what to do with me for attacking my own teammate, Coach was going insane, his face a dark shade of red like he’d swallowed a ghost pepper…but I didn’t care. Soto had it coming.
“Fuck, Ari, you have a little bit of crazy in you,” mused Walker, elbowing me as we watched the refs argue back and forth.
“Disney, you have no idea,” I drawled.
I was given five minutes in the penalty box, but I couldn’t have cared less.
When I finally returned to the ice, my heart was still racing with adrenaline. Soto hadn’t returned, because he was such a fucking pussy…and the team was better off for it.
The rest of the game was a relentless battle. Minnesota shit-talked me a bit for beating up my own teammate…but they also seemed a little more timid than before. We pushed to our limits, upping the intensity with every shift. In the closing minutes of the third period, I found myself in a pivotal moment, defending Walker as Minnesota pressed for a tying goal. I blocked a frantic shot and cleared the puck…the clock ticking down. When the final buzzer sounded, we’d fucking won.
As we celebrated on the ice, I couldn't help but cast a glance in Soto's direction. He was staring at me, absolutely seething with anger—gritted teeth and all. I blew him a kiss just to drive it in deep.
Later on in the hotel, I sent a text to Lincoln.
Me: Hotel Californication.
Lincoln: No. Just no. That's not right at all.
Me: There are too many songs about Cali, so I'm combining them.
Lincoln: Cali now, is it?
Me: Look, I'm trying to immerse myself in the culture. Be a good teammate and all of that.
Lincoln: Oh, is that what you call that fight you got into with Soto tonight.
Me: Aww, you do love me. You're stalking me!
Lincoln: ...
Me: Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.
Me: And yes, I think punching Soto in his fat nose was being a good teammate. Walker agrees.
Lincoln: Since when do we care what Walker thinks?
Me: Aww, and now you're jealous. Best Day Ever.
