Red on the Ice

Riley

My ban had been lifted two days ago, and I approached Rufus to see about getting back on the team. They were on a winning streak, but have still made mistakes, ones that caused them points.

“Take you back?” He laughs in my face. “You will never play ice hockey again, Riley. You blew it.”

It was more than just a physical blow; losing ice hockey is like a piece of my soul being ripped away. If someone provokes me, I react by punching them. To aid my recovery, I’m focusing on anger management, learning to de-escalate conflicts and avoid future anger outbursts. But there is no point if no fucker wants me back.

I went out drinking with some fellow team mates. “You just need to prove yourself to him. I bet once he sees you back on the ice, he will take you on.” Kenny shoves me playfully with his shoulder.

“I hope so.”

We drink and laugh like old times. My ban included a prohibition against socializing with players. It is good to be out with them. We watch the game on the screen as we drink. The Red Tornados lost again.

“You know what I think?” Kenny starts. “She is fucking hot, and she is poking the whole team.”

“Na, she is too frigid for that.” I watch as frustration shows on her face as they come off the ice. The idiot Chase didn’t play his best. I could see that, and the defence needed to swap.

It is about knowing your team’s strengths and weaknesses. A slap on my back and another beer. We carry on in our little corner. I plan on getting very drunk tonight.

Some time later, through blurry eyes, I see her come in and walk confidently up to the group. Damn, she is hot. I’m trying to work out her age, but I know she is older than me. When she grabs my shirt and pulls me down to her, I think she is going to kiss me, and I wouldn’t be sorry if she did. Disappointed when she didn’t, though.

“Be there tomorrow,” she whispers. In the depths of her eyes, I see a desire—or perhaps it is just the beer talking.

Those jeans hugged her ass perfectly and her proposition made me go hard. Fuck, I could be back on the ice next season. She is right, though. No one else is willing to give me a chance. I tuck the card away and carry on with my night.

I stumble my way back home, and as soon as I get in, I crash down on the sofa. My drunk ass can hardly remember much of the night apart from her eyes. The way she stared into mine, god have mercy on her soul if I ever touch her. I pull out the card she gave me and try to make out the scribble on the back. I toss it on the floor and google her on my phone. The only female to make coach for ice hockey. Damn these pictures of her. And fuck me, she is eight years older than me. I nearly dropped the phone when I found out her age. She is going to give me a chance back on the ice, then I have to think with my head and not my dick. But that doesn’t stop me from pumping one out over her picture.

“Hey, dickhead, are you meant to be somewhere?” My younger brother kicks my leg.

“What time is it?” I rub my face. Fuck, I fell asleep on the couch.

“I heard that the ice queen made you a proposition last night.” He laughs in my face. “Looks like you were jerking off to her as well.”

“Fuck off.” I roll off the couch and onto the floor with a thud. “Fuck.”

My jeans are halfway down my legs, bunching at my knees, and my pants down to my hips. My dick is flopping out free. It’s not the first time he has caught me with my pants down, jerking off. No girl will touch a loser like me, so it is my hand which keeps me satisfied.

“It’s ten in the morning. You were meant to be at the rink.” He tosses the card from the floor at me.

“Fuck.” My mouth is dry and my head thumping.

“Here.” Jamie passes me a bottle of water and some painkillers. As much as a pain in the ass of a younger brother he is, sometimes he looks out for me. “I’ll call you an Uber. You might get there in twenty minutes.”

“Better late than never.” I pull up my jeans and down the water and painkillers. With a quick freshen up in the bathroom, I grab my phone and wallet, then head out when the Uber gets here.

The guilt gnaws at me as I arrive late, and the sight of the players on the ice only amplified my dread of their impending verbal lashing; I can practically hear the sneers. Coach has given me a chance, and I’m already fucking it up.

“Nice of you to turn up.” She skates up to the side wearing full skating gear, and I’m surprised. “What, did you think I’d stand at the side and shout at you? I like getting involved on the ice, buddy.” She looks me up and down, then pulls off the helmet. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.” I huff and wonder what I’m doing here.

She sighs and then shouts at the others to keep practicing. Then hops off the ice, slipping on the covers to protect the blades.

“Come with me.” She walks off, then changes out of her skates and slips some trainers on her feet. She sits at the side and then faces me. “They are not happy that I asked you to join the team, but I want the best here.” She watches my face. “I’ve seen you out on the ice and you are darn good, Riley, but I’ve also seen your temper.”

“I’m managing that,” I say.

“We are out of this season, but I want to give you a chance. Practice with the boys over the next few months, and play a few exhibition games? Then, if I feel confident, you can play in the division games.”

It’s like she’s conjuring up my dream: the icy bite of the wind, the sharp click of skates, the exhilarating rush - it’s all here. As I stare at her, memories of me jerking off to thoughts of her last night flood back, causing my cheeks to flush.

“But,” she glares at me. “If you fucking embarrass me,” tears glisten in her eyes as she prods my chest. “This is me on the line as well.”

I scrunch my brow wondering what she means by this is her on the line as well? I know they have continued being bottom of the tables since she took over, and I can’t think of understanding what she has to put up with from others. Especially from the likes of Rufus Shutter. A woman coach and manager?

She looks me up and down and sighs. “You don’t have any skates with you?” She rolls her eyes and gets me to follow her. We go into the locker room, and she looks at my feet before pulling out a pair of skates. “These should fit you. There is some gear there you can use.”

“You want me to join you now?” As much as I’m dying to get out on the ice, I feel like shit.

She crosses her arms. “You want on the team? Five minutes Riley, and if you aren’t on the ice, you are out.” She turns and leaves me.

My brother wasn’t wrong about her being the ice queen. “Damn.” I quickly changed. My headache had thankfully subsided, but my stomach was now roiling with nausea. Was it nerves, or just the beer from last night? Four minutes later, I’m standing at the edge of the rink.

“What are you waiting for, Conners? Get on the ice and take center.” She shouts.

This is it, my chance to become someone again. I take the stick waiting for me and skate onto the ice. The glares coming from the guys don’t ease my churning stomach. “Please don’t throw up on my first time back on the ice.” I tell myself.

I take the center position.

“Let’s see what you have got, boys.” She licks her lips and moves back. It is game on.