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Lincoln stared at me incredulously for a long moment before he burst into hysterical laughter.
“What are you laughing about? THIS IS SERIOUS! How is my dick that unmemorable?”
Lincoln was now wiping motherfucking tears from his eyes.
“Fuck. This is too good. You’ve got to stop. I don’t think I can skate.”
I growled. And pushed him before skating away to the continued sound of his cackling.
“Fucking dick,” I muttered to Walker, who was wide-eyed, staring back and forth between Lincoln and me. Like his mom and dad were fighting or something.
“You’re a year fucking younger than us, Prince Charming,” I yelled at him nonsensically.
And now he seemed even more confused.
“Get your fucking head in the game, Lancaster,” Coach screamed, and I nodded, turning my attention back to the ice. These people needed to understand my dick was not forgettable.
Blake could tell them all about it!
As the game raged on, things escalated between Lincoln and Soto. Lincoln had always hated him…just like me, but after what he’d done to Blake…Soto was just asking for it.
Lincoln slammed Soto against the boards, and the entire arena seemed to hold its breath, eagerly awaiting the fireworks.
Predictably, Soto threw off his gloves and shoved Lincoln with all the finesse of a charging rhino. The gloves hit the ice with a dull thud, and the crowd erupted into a raucous mix of cheers and jeers. It was go time.
The two of them squared off, circling each other. Soto swung wildly, but Lincoln's reflexes were so superior, it was ridiculous. He dodged Soto's punches with the grace of a seasoned fighter, and when he retaliated, it was like watching a professional boxer in action.
Lincoln landed a series of devastating blows, the first one catching Soto square in the jaw, sending a spray of spittle and blood into the frigid air. The sight of crimson droplets splattering across the ice only seemed to stoke the crowd's excitement.
Soto, now bleeding from his nose and sporting a rapidly swelling eye, tried desperately to regain his composure. But it was too late. Lincoln continued his assault, a relentless barrage of fists that left Soto stumbling and off-balance.
I couldn't help the malicious grin that crept across my face as it became abundantly clear that this was no contest. Lincoln was delivering a thorough beat down, and the crowd reveled in the spectacle.
But what made the moment even sweeter was the conspicuous absence of our Cobras teammates. None of them made a move to intervene and break up the fight. It was as if they, too, had gotten sick of Soto’s shit and were relishing the opportunity to watch Soto get what was coming to him.
The moment of triumph came when Lincoln landed a powerful uppercut, connecting squarely with Soto's chin. It was the knockout blow, and Soto crumpled to the ice in a heap of defeat. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth…it was glorious.
I was pretty sure Soto had lost even more teeth.
I gave Lincoln an exuberant high-five as he skated back to the penalty box. Soto had to be scraped off the ice…
Just another reason why golden boy was my bestie.
* * *
This had already been one of the more…eventful games of my life. And then I glanced at Blake, like I did constantly every time she was in the vicinity…and I tripped over my skates. She and Monroe were talking to one of the WAGs behind them, so I could clearly see that at some point since we’d arrived at the arena, she’d put on a motherfuckingDanielsjersey.
“I’m going to murder you,” I hissed at Lincoln during a break. “I’m going to have Blake’s dog bite your dick off! And then I’m going to let him use as it a fucking chew toy!”
“Have that fantasy a lot? Because that was weirdly detailed,” Lincoln mused as I banged on the glass in front of Blake, motioning for her to take that fucking jersey off.
She put her hand to her ear, mouthing she couldn’t hear me, trying to act like she was fucking confused! Monroe was hysterically laughing next to her. “I’m disowning you!” I yelled to Monroe, who was fucking crying now from laughing so hard.
“Payback is a bitch, Ari darling,” Lincoln sing-songed as he skated by.
I flipped him off and then banged him into the boards when play resumed, harder than necessary just for good measure.
As soon as I got back to the bench, I ordered the same Cobras employee who had helped me in the past—Dan—to take a new jersey to Blake. And instruct her to put it on, or I was going to stop play and embarrass her in front of the whole arena. Dan’s eyes were wide, and he looked a little scared of me as he scurried off to do my bidding.
