Page 3 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

THREE

SEABORN

I t’s been days, and I still can’t wrap my head around what happened with Ktytor. I fucking hate him, so how did we end up kissing? I’m not even sure who started it or if either of us did. I keep going over it in my head, and I’m so lost. I don’t even like dudes. I’m completely straight.

But…did I like it?

Why the fuck am I even asking myself this?

Was it just all the pent-up aggression? That sounds like a real thing that could legitimately happen.

Or at least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself until we get through the playoffs.

We might have to face them again, and I can’t be focused on whatever the fuck happened.

I almost asked one of my roommates, Archangel.

He’s gay, so he knows how that shit works, but I can’t bring myself to admit it out loud.

They’d probably never trust me again knowing I kissed the enemy.

I have a headache and my roommates are throwing a party, but I’m sitting alone checking Ktytor’s social media when I could be getting laid.

What is wrong with me? I’m worried he’s posted something about it.

Even in his cryptic, snarky way, it would be too much.

Rumors in hockey spread like wildfire, and I can’t let anything hurt my chance of being recruited.

“brO,” Archangel crashes into my room. My housemate is my co-defender on the same line.

He’s a great guy, a little over the top, but that’s why we all love him.

He’s wearing a cropped tee and high-waisted jeans that still allow a few inches of his toned abs to show under.

“The house is packed with bunnies. Why are you still up here?”

We live with our goalie Wolfe as well, and the two of them, when left to their own devices, love to throw house parties.

I don’t complain. I wouldn’t be able to live anywhere this nice without the two of them, and it sure beats being in the fucking dorms. And I guess I can’t be mad about all the pussy gifted to me on a silver platter, but I’m kinda in the middle of an existential crisis.

“I’ll come down in a bit.” I pet Venom, our shared cat, acting like she’s the reason I’m still in my room. “She just got comfy.”

“While I respect the pussy cuddle, you’re not getting out of this.” Archangel treats this like a standoff.

“Would you move her?” I gasp like he’s suggested murder.

“She’s probably been there for an hour.”

“And in this house, we respect women! She hasn’t even consented to me getting up.” I keep petting her cute little black head while she purrs loudly.

“I can’t believe you’re using my own cat against me.”

“I’ll send the bunnies up here next time.” He makes the I’m watching you, Focker fingers.

“Calm your tits!”

Archangel cups them. “They cannot be calmed!”

“I’m getting up.” I pick up the cat and set her gingerly on my bed. She glares like only a cat can. “Great, now she’s going to avoid me all week.”

“I mean, you did move her.”

I blink. “You told me to.”

“You said it yourself: in this house, we respect women.” He shrugs and laughs. “You sure you’re okay?”

“It was just a loss. I’m fine.” The guys have been babying me since the Monsters game. They think it’s just about the game. Another reason not to tell Archangel.

“I don’t believe you. Ktytor is really getting to you this season.” He’s not wrong, but fuck he doesn’t know the half of it.

“I’ll be down in a few. You don’t have to babysit me.” I roll my eyes and pick up my phone. I have a Snap alert.

“Put on something other than that.” He gestures at my basketball shorts and tee.

“Fine.” I open Snap when Archangel leaves.

Ktytor followed you.

What the actual fuck?

Why would Ktytor follow me? It’s been months.

A message from him buzzes through. Have I died and gone to hell?

Sure fucking feels like it, and maybe that would be a better way to explain any of what happened after that game. Repression seems like the best choice all around, and not even because of the gay shit. I’m down with the gays. But I kissed the most heinous person imaginable.

A lobotomy is my only option here.

Guess I should have one last night of partying with both sides of my brain intact. But first, I open the message because, as it turns out, I’ve not hit rock bottom yet.

Ktytor: looking for a repeat?

Seaborn: What?

Ktytor: What other reason would there be for you to stalk me?

Seaborn: You messaged me.

Ktytor: Only because you followed me.

Seaborn: I didn’t!

Had I? I don’t think I accidentally hit the button.

Ktytor sends me a screenshot of the follow notification.

Ktytor: I assumed it’s because you can’t wait to see me again, beautiful.

Seaborn: Fuck off.

But I can’t leave it at that. He has fucking evidence I was internet stalking. I hurriedly type another reply.

Seaborn: It was an accident.

Ktytor: Why were you on my page?

What the fuck did I even say to that? I guess I’m just going to keep making it worse.

I can only hope loboto-me will not remember any of this shame.

Not like I can fucking tell him I can’t stop thinking about him kissing me?

I kissed him? Over my fucking dead body.

I don’t need to give him any more ammo to use against me.

Seaborn: I just wanted to see your playoff schedule.

Lots of players post them to their stories to encourage their followers to come to the games. It’s a great excuse.Maybe I’ll keep my brain together for this awful romance between its halves we call life.

Ktytor: You want to see how soon you play me don’t you?

Seaborn: Fuck no.

Ktytor: I can’t believe you miss me so much already. It’s only been a few days, muffin.

Arrogant fucking bastard.

Seaborn: More like I want another chance to beat the shit out of you.

Ktytor: With the surprise ending included?

Seaborn: NO

Ktytor: I look forward to it, sweetheart.

I don’t know why the nickname pissed me off so much, but it left me stewing. Time to go downstairs and find a lay. That’s what I need to do before we fight again. I’ll fuck someone, and then I won’t get weird sexual energy fighting. That’s the perfect solution.

But Wolfe said fucking before a game is bad luck. Fucking superstitious goalies.

I force myself downstairs before I message Ktytor again.

Wolfe shoves a beer into my hand. “What’s got you down? Do you need a hug?”

“Not a thing, man.” I force a smile onto my face.“You can hug me later. I promise. Let me at least get some action first.”

“If I don’t get some cuddles, I’m going to pout.” He holds a finger up, totally serious.

“I pinky swear.” I hold mine out.

He locks his with it. “Did your concussion check come back clean?”

“Yep, I’m all good to go.” Thankfully. If I didn’t get to face the Monsters in the playoffs over a kiss, I’d never forgive myself.I know they can’t win without me, and letting them down for a fight would make me a shit teammate.

“Good, I can’t hold this fucking team on my back alone.” Wolfe holds his fist out.

I bump it. “You do a pretty damn good job of it by yourself.”

Wolfe winks. “I know, but that one is fucking hard.”

An image of Ktytor’s hard body pressed into mine snaps into my brain. I shudder. I swear to fucking God, brain, get with the program, or it’s loboto-me. I’m not playing.

“You okay there?” Wolfe waves a hand in front of my face. “Did you lie to the doc? Let me see your pupils.” He flash bangs me right in the eyes with his phone light.

I stumble back. “Motherfucker. We have talked about this. You cannot flash bang someone without warning.”

“That’s what she said,” Archangel calls from across the room.

“What does that even mean?” Wolfe asks, exasperated.

Archangel shrugs but doesn’t laugh, not his usual jovial self.

“What’s going on with Archangel?” I change the subject, needing the focus off of me.

“His sister is getting married, which means going home to Georgia.” Wolfe makes a face.

We’ve all been friends since freshman year when Archangel and I were roommates. He and Wolfe were a package deal as they’ve known each other since they were kids, but those two had grown closer over the years, making me a bit like the best friend third wheel. But I loved them like brothers.

“Shit. No wonder he’s a mess.” I mutter, chugging half my beer. Archangel will be a wreck until that’s over. He’s the only publicly gay guy on our team and one of the very few in college hockey. He’s not quite a unicorn, but basically as rare.

His Southern Baptist family doesn’t appreciate it at all or the visibility. I’m sure they’d prefer him in the closet, but if they knew anything about him, they know that goes against his entire personality.

“Real. I think I’m going to go with him for moral support.”

I lift a brow and give him a look that makes my face ache. “I bet they love you, don’t they?”

He nods with a huge grin. “They do.” Wolfe is probably their pinnacle ideal of masculinity. I’m not sure if that’s good for Archangel or not. I can’t imagine it’s fun having your family wish your best friend was their son and not you. Maybe it’s better I’m the third wheel friend.

“Does he want you to go?” I ask, glancing over at Archangel, who’s surrounded by a bunch of women.

“Sure does. He can’t go alone. He’ll kill someone or himself.” Wolfe makes a good point. “Need another beer?”

“Please.” I hold out my solo cup so he can refill it.

“I’m gonna go flirt and get Archangel riled up,” Wolfe says conspiratorially.

“Riled up? What do you have planned?” This can’t be good.

“I’m not telling!” Wolfe sing-songs while shimmying over to dance. He’s quickly surrounded by a bunch of girls, but he turns towards Archangel and mimes casting a fishing line to reel him in.

Archangel rolls his eyes but lets Wolfe lure him in. They dance together, surrounded by a pack of bunnies, but it’s clear their focus is on each other. Wolfe actually earns a smile out of Archangel.

I’m quickly on my way to black-out drunk since this is the last day we can drink like this during spring break before the Frozen Four training starts and we need to get serious.

But I keep coming back to the Snapchat message.

I try to distract myself by talking to bunnies, but my mind keeps returning to fucking Snapchat.

Sometime later, Wolfe comes over, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “I have to tell you something,” he whispers.

“What?”

He’s trying not to laugh and practically wheezing. “I can’t do it here.”

Archangel is behind him, laughing just as hard.

I let them pull me away from the chick I was flirting with. When they get me into the kitchen, they break down laughing.

“What?” I ask when they don’t tell me.

“The girl you’re talking to… Does she remind you of someone?”

I close one eye, way too drunk for games. “What are you fucking talking about?”

Wolfe tries to talk, but he can’t get it out.He’s laughing so hard, he can’t breathe.

I turn to Archangel. “Well?”

He sucks in a breath, only slightly better off than Wolfe, but at least he manages to get words out. “The chick you were talking to just now. Look her at her again.”

“What, why?” I glance over.

“He doesn’t know!” Wolfe shakes like a muscular Kool-Aid man, and it’s a little frightening.

I look between them, waiting for someone to tell me.

“Look really hard,” Archangel says, holding a hand over his mouth.

I stare at the chick, but nothing comes to me. “What?”

“You promise you don’t see it?” Archangel asks.

“Just fucking tell me!”

“She looks just like that fucking asshole from the Monsters Ktytor.”

I narrow my eyes. “She does not.”

Wolfe is doubled over, crying and wheezing again. “Don’t fucking lie! Just look at her.”

I step to the side and look around the corner to get a better view. She waves at me, and I see it. She looks exactly like him, and now I won’t be able to unsee it. “Motherfucker.”

“SEE!” Wolfe holds on to the counter to keep himself upright.

“Fuck both of you. You couldn’t have just let me have this one.” I scrub a hand over my face.

“Nah, you can’t fuck the enemy, even if it’s only in spirit!” Archangel wipes his eyes.

“Especially if it’s some weird repressed thing about your loss.” Wolfe gets all serious but it’s his drunk serious which means he’s about to say some nonsense. “Maybe he’s cast some Slavic witch spell on you! She might be a siren!”

“Please don’t start. I already have the tarot deck you gave me, which I don’t understand. I don’t need you warding my room again.”

“Do you want to be cursed?” Wolfe yells. “This is serious!”

I sigh, way too drunk to have this conversation. “I’m going to bed.”

“There are other girls!’ Wolfe clearly feels bad.

I shake my head. “I’m over it.”

He doesn’t know where my head has been all night. I go to my room alone, and my phone buzzes.

It’s a Snap alert from Ktytor.

I shouldn’t open the message. Because if I look, I’m going to reply, and I’m way too drunk to make a good decision.

Ktytor: If you think leaving me on read hurts my ego, just remember, I know how you taste.