Off Sides

chapter 5




Ryan



The alarm blares at 6:30 a.m. and I slap it off. I wake up with a smile on my face as I had an amazing dream about Danny, the dirty details I will not disclose.

I think back to our kiss last night. Never before had a kiss turned me on like that. I was close to begging Danny to let me bury myself in her. But at the same time, I didn't want to go further. I wanted to savor it all. And this morning...I realize I want to drag it out. The way she stroked my hand last night, in comfort of me, after all she has been through...words can't describe. I want to take my time with this girl because she is so different than anyone I have ever been around.

Rolling out of bed, I see Mike is still asleep. I pick up a pillow and throw it at him.

"Get up, Petunia. We have to be at practice in half an hour."

Mike groans and slowly sits up. His blond hair is sticking up all over the place. "How can you be so chipper this early in the morning?"

"Just excited to get on the ice."

"Why do you have a dopey grin on your face?"

He's trying to get a rise out of me but I don't respond. "I'll see you there. I'm going to grab something to eat first."

"Hold up, man."

I pause and look at him.

"So, how was your date last night?"

"It was fine...nice. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"Yeah, I'm getting up." Mike swings his long legs out of bed, stands and stretches. I pull out my iPhone while Mike gets dressed and think about sending Danny a text. Should I make it short and flirty? Or should I send a more romantic text. Oh my God...I'm turning into a putz, but then I smile and roll with it. Just as I'm ready to type, Mike gives me a punch in the shoulder.

"I'm ready."

I put the phone in my pocket and pick up my gear bag. I'll text her after practice.

***

I'm sitting in the locker room, getting ready for practice. I've got my Under Armour, jock shorts and shin pads on. As I'm pulling on my hockey socks and securing them to the Velcro tabs on my shorts, Mike walks over and sits down on the bench beside me.

"Alright...I can't stand it. Spill."

I don't look at him. "Spill what?"

"Don't be an ass. Just tell me how the date went. Usually you’re willing to tell me everything but you are keeping this one close to the vest. I figure that means it went really, really well or really, really bad." He stands up and moves in front of me. He pounds his fist into his chest. "I'm here for ya, man. Whichever way it went."

I chuckle at him. "Okay...fine. If you must know, it went really, really well."

Mike sits down again, crossing one leg over the other in feminine fashion. He puts his hands on his knees, gazing intently at me. "Do tell."

I snicker and throw a roll of tape at him. I stand up and pull my pants on. "I don't really know what to say. She's amazing."

"Whose amazing?" This from Carter who walks up behind me.

"No one," I say at the same time Mike says, "His date from last night."

I groan. I so don't need Carter in on this conversation. I love the guy but he has a big mouth.

"What date? Where have I been?"

Mike pipes up. "He went out with that smokin' hot waitress from Sally's."

I sit down to put my skates on, pulling the laces tight.

"Dude," Carter says. "You said you didn't want to hit that." His voice sounds accusatory and I remember back to that night. Carter acted like he might try to ask her out.

"I'm not 'hitting that', Carter. We went out on a date."

"But you said she was amazing. If you didn't bang her, what was so amazing?"

I grab the tape off the floor and start wrapping my shin pads. "Carter, you are such a Neanderthal. Not everything is about screwing."

"Yes, it is," Carter replies matter-of-factly. "I mean, what could have been more amazing last night than screwing?"

Carter is genuinely curious I can tell and it's sort of endearing. He may be a player right now but I bet one day, Carter is going to fall hard.

"You guys are like pit bulls. If you must know, I went with her to a homeless shelter and we did some volunteer work in the kitchen. Then we went and grabbed a couple of beers."

Carter is looking at me as if I just sprouted antlers out of my head. "No, seriously...what did you really do?"

I just shook my head and picked up my shoulder pads, strapping them into place. "Forget it, Carter. I just don't think you'd understand."

He is literally scratching his head in consternation as he walks away. I turn to look at Mike. "Was my date last night really that weird?"

Mike stands up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Yup. It was weird. But it was also amazing, and that's all that matters. I'm happy for you, man."

I punch him lightly in the chest. "Thanks, bro."

***

Practice is almost over and we are doing a light scrimmage right now. I'm the center on the first line and I've been playing f*cking fantastic today. I'm on a breakaway right now, having just received the puck from a brilliant pass by Mike. I'm streaking down the right side, and Mike is mirroring me on the left. There's only one defenseman between us and the goalie. I make a quick pass over to Mike. Just as the defensemen commits to Mike, he flips the puck back to me and I wind up for a slap shot, aiming for the five-hole. Just as I'm bringing my stick down toward the ice, I see the blade of another stick poke between my legs and hook over the front of my left skate. It's jerked backward, along with my foot and I go crashing face first into the ice. I'm moving so fast the momentum slides me head first into the boards. Thankfully, I'm able to tuck my head and catch the boards with my shoulder instead.

The coach blows the whistle and I hear Mike bellow, "What the f*ck, Malone?"

I didn't need to hear Mike yell that to know it was Reece Malone who had pulled me down. He is a loser and I don't understand why Coach keeps him on the team. He’s bitter that his talent will never get him higher than our fourth line and he begrudges success to anyone else. Even if that means our team takes a loss. He is poison to our morale.

I jump up from the ice and take off toward Malone. I'm going to kick his ass. I hear the coach frantically blowing the whistle and my teammates rush in to separate us before we can even connect.

"You try that shit again, Reece and I will tear your f*cking head off, you hear me?"

I am pissed and if I didn't have three of my teammates holding me back, I probably would have killed him. Reece just smirks at me. He shakes off the hands holding him and skates off the ice.

Coach wisely calls an end to practice and we all head to the locker room. As I walk in, I move past Malone who is standing in front of his locker and try to ignore him.

"Hey, Burnham. I heard you went slumming last night and banged some grease whore from Sally's."

I vaguely hear Mike say, "Oh f*ck" but then all I hear after is the sound of my fist hitting Malone's face. I get in at least four good hits, all to the left side of his temple and jaw, before Carter and Mike are pulling me off. No one needed to hold Malone back because my hits were vicious and fueled by an inferno of rage. He is on the floor, blood running down his face from an open cut, and he won't be getting up anytime soon.

Mike is pulling me backward and tells me to calm down. I shake him off of me viciously. "Get the f*ck off me, Mike. I'm fine."

He pulls his arms back and holds them up in surrender. He looks at me apprehensively.

I turn my back on him and stalk over to my locker. Coach comes up to me and gives me a dressing down. He tells me to get my ass in gear or else I can kiss my Captaincy goodbye. My only consolation is that Malone needs five stitches in his head.

***

By the time Mike and I make it to the dining hall, I've calmed somewhat but my stomach is in knots. I was beyond furious when Malone called Danny a whore. I try to imagine what she would have felt like if she had heard that. And now I'm afraid that Danny will be facing an endless stream of spitefulness from my crowd just because of her lot in life.

I grab a tray of food, not really paying attention to what I'm choosing. Mike and I find an empty table and sit down.

"You okay, man?" Mike's eyes are filled with concern.

"Sure."

"What’s up with Malone? It's like his attitude is getting worse. I don't understand why Coach doesn't kick him off the team."

I shake my head. I don't get it either. But if Malone is going to tear our team apart, we can kiss any chance of a winning season goodbye. I eat in silence, mulling everything over.

"Hey, Ryan. You know what Malone said about Danny is just words, right? They shouldn't mean anything to you."

He's trying to comfort and reassure me, and I get that. But a dark feeling is taking root in my mind. I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I don't know if I can handle the inevitable fallout that is going to come by forging a relationship with Danny.

"This is a bad idea...to get involved with her, isn't it?"

Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe not."

"You said it yourself. My parents will never accept her because she looks different and isn’t in our social haven. Our crowd has their heads so far up their asses, they believe because she works in a diner that she's a whore. Tell me how this can work?"

I feel like I'm almost pleading with him to give me the right answer.

Mike puts down his sandwich and leans forward. "Tell me, Ryan...do you care what she looks like?"

"No, although I think she's freakin' gorgeous."

"So, her purple hair and nose ring and...whatever that is in her eyebrow...that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all."

"And the fact she works in a diner? Does that change how you feel?"

"No! I admire the fact she's working...two jobs...going to school and doing volunteer work. She's amazing."

"Then I don't see what the problem is, dude. All that matters is what you think."

I sigh. I know that. And I don't care what anyone else thinks about me for being with Danny. But I do care if Danny gets hurt because of the nastiness I'm surrounded by.

Danny and I have been out one time. We've spent less than three hours together, and yet I find myself wanting to protect her more than any other person I've ever known. The strength of these feelings scares the shit out of me. I just don't know what to do.