BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance

by Eddie Cleveland

  There’s only one thought keeping me awake: where does this leave us?

  Blue shadows dance across my bedroom. I have no idea if it’s morning or night. The twilight barely lighting my window doesn’t help me figure it out. It could be the beginning of an early spring night or moments before sunrise.

  Blaze is taking up way more than half of my bed. He’s completely naked and sprawled like he’s trying to reach all four corners of my mattress at the same time. Before, I could blame alcohol-fueled choices and poor impulse control for sleeping with him. This was different. Even lying next to him doesn’t feel the same. For the first time, I saw the real him. Behind the senseless rebellion, hidden beneath all the jokes, he showed me his broken heart.

  We didn’t just strip off our clothes. We let our masks, our defense mechanisms and our walls all tumble to the floor. With Blaze, my orgasm wasn’t unexpected, but the connection I felt was.

  The connection I still feel now.

  Considering my job, it’s a connection I have no business feeling at all. I mean, technically, I am supposed to keep an eye on him, and ride him when he gets too wild. Not wildly ride him.

  What would my boss think? The thought snaps into my brain like a towel being flicked from the wrist. It stings.

  If my last job showed me the worst side of this career, Coach Wilson has shown me the best. He’s been kind and respectful, and he has faith in me to do this job without interfering. My stomach knots. I don’t want to deceive him, but there’s no way I’m confessing the truth about sneaking around with Blaze. At this point, that’s what this would be classified as.

  Laying here doesn’t feel comforting anymore. It’s confusing, and it’s making me panic. I need a little room to clear my head. Maybe some coffee. I pick up my phone and check the time. Turns out that’s early evening sunlight disappearing out my window. I get dressed and go down to the kitchen where I’m greeted with an empty coffee canister and not a lot of great snacking options.

  Mom won’t be home for another hour. I could use a little drive to clear my head, and there’s a coffee shop not even ten minutes from here. I can pick up some food and drinks before she will be home. It feels weird to leave Blaze sleeping in my room, but I figure when he does wake up, he’s going to be hungry.

  It doesn’t take long to get my stuff on and drive my car down the road. My nerves are just starting to settle when my phone rings and my console shows me the name of the caller: Coach Wilson.

  Shit.

  I hit the button on my steering wheel that takes the call over the speaker. “Um, hello?”

  “Hello, Ms. Stevens. Sorry to bother you.” Coach Wilson sounds concerned.

  “No bother.”

  “You don’t have Blaze with you, do ya?”

  My heart thuds inside my rib cage, and I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. Does he know? How does he know?

  “Blaze? No, why?” My voice might sound innocent, but a sinner’s guilt swirls inside me.

  “Damn. I was hoping you knew where he was. He seems to be MIA. I’m trying to get some urgent news to him. Did he say where he was going after the hospital?”

  “No.” My voice tightens with the lie. “I, uh, haven’t seen him since then.”

  I’m kind of throwing Blaze to the wolves here. I don’t want Coach Wilson to worry that he’s off doing something that’s going to bring trouble to our lives. “By the way, he did a fantastic job at the hospital today.” I can’t help but gush a bit. “The kids adored him.”

  The tension eases from my body when I remember him making those balloon animals for the children. Blaze was such a natural with all of them. He’ll make a good dad.

  Whoa, what? Babies? Blaze as a father? I need to calm my ovaries and cool my jets.

  “I heard. That’s why I’m trying to get a hold of him. The hospital was so impressed, they called the board. My meeting this afternoon was all of ten minutes. Blaze’s suspension got cut short! He’s in the next game!”

  I pull into the coffee shop drive-thru lane. “Seriously? That’s amazing.” I’m all smiles.

  My phone buzzes, and a text pops up on my screen. I’m just idling here, waiting to get to the order screen, so I pick it up and read it.

  Blaze: RU fucking kidding me? Where ru?!?

  “Actually, Coach, Blaze is calling me on the other line.”

  “Really? You can give him the good news, Ms. Stevens. It’s because of you that this worked out anyway. You did such a great job with him. Tell him to call me, will ya?”

  “I will,” I promise.

  “Thanks.” As soon as we hang up, I immediately call Blaze.

  “Waking up in someone else’s room by yourself is weird enough.” He jumps right in. “But when the whole house is empty…”

  “I’m getting some coffee and donuts. For you too. Listen, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  “I can’t believe you snuck out on me.” He steamrolls over me, incredulous. “You know sneaking out on your hook-up only works if you’re leaving their place.”

  “I didn’t sneak out.” I slowly roll the car forward a bit, but I’m still not at the order screen.

  “You’re obviously bad at this…” Blaze keeps going.

  “Blaze! Your suspension is over. You’re in the next game!” I can’t keep the news in anymore. It explodes out of my mouth.

  “What? For real?” He sounds like he’s afraid I might be pulling his leg.

  “Yes.” I laugh. “And, Coach Wilson wants you to call him. He’s really happy about the work you did at the hospital.”

  “That’s fucking great.” He sounds like he might be jumping around. “Oh, shit. I’ve missed a bunch of texts and calls from him. Something must have distracted me.” His voice drops, and a shiver runs over my skin even though my car is warmed up.

  “You have to call Coach! And get some clothes on in case my mom comes home early.”

  “Fine, but are you going?” he asks.

  “Where?”

  “With us. To the next game.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Good.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “Awww, you want me at your game?”

  “No, I want to tie you to your hotel bed. That way, you can’t sneak out after I fuck you.”

  Heat dances over my entire body. I know he’s just saying that to get a reaction, but the image that takes over my mind sends pulses of excitement through me. My thighs squeeze and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. I force the thoughts out.

  “There won’t be any tying up because there won’t be any hooking up.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it on the low.”

  “We’ll see.” I don’t really want to say no. “Now, get your clothes on and call Coach Wilson. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” I hang up before he can put any more dirty images in my head.

  18

  Prissy-Whipped

  Blaze

  This isn’t our rink, but Coach Wilson is making sure this floor never forgets his feet. He’s pacing the tread off his shoes behind us. Canuck hasn’t let a single goal slip by the entire game. We’re up by one, and every single guy sitting on this bench with me is dying to make it two.

  A win clinches our spot in the final tournament. It would completely turn this year around for us. There’s a lot riding on this game. Like, the entire hockey teams’ hopes and dreams.

  The crowd stomps and whistles. The cold air snaps my skin like a rubber band. Our team is playing as slick as grease, and our goalie is going for a fucking shut out. I’m praying I get back out on the ice before the clock runs out. With just under five minutes left, it’s looking less likely. A win would still be amazing. Even if I’m on the bench.

  “Blaze, Gucci, you’re in!” Coach Wilson barks. He waves impatient circles as we swap out our positions on the ice.

  The sharp edge of my blades nick the ice, and my focus completely shifts. The crowd disappears. The other players become face
less shadows. Even Prissy is gone. I promised Player I’d leave it all out on the ice so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. My mind has one singular focus: the puck.

  I chase it down, carving up the ice so fast the air becomes wind. My lungs suck cold bursts inside my ribs. I never stop looking, and I finally spot it. My opening.

  Cutting left around some shadows, my hockey stick is just an extension of my body. Scooping the puck, I weave by the defense. That opening in the upper right-hand corner of the net is my entire focus.

  I flick my wrist, sending it sailing through the air in a slap shot. The goalie dives over, but it’s too late. The puck plunges into the net and falls behind him. The noise blast for the point is like a foghorn that cuts through the haze. Everything rushes back at once. The players circling me. The roaring crowd. Even Prissy.

  I skate down the center and stop at our net. As soon as I get there, I grab Canuck, lifting him off the ice. The buzzer blasts out, making the end of the game official. It’s 2-1. We fucking did it!

  “You’re a king. You killed it!” I yell at him.

  Behind the penalty box, Prissy is doing a little dance. If I wasn’t already smiling, that would put one on my face.

  “Sweet shot,” he yells back.

  We head to center ice to pay our respects. When you’re on the losing team, shaking hands with the guys who won and retreating to the locker room takes an eternity. A winner’s high breezes you through all that shit. We’re loud as fuck, whooping and yelling over each other all the way to the changing room for the away team.

  “Fuck yeah, that was amazing.” Griz wraps his arm over Canuck’s shoulder.

  “A shut out? You didn’t just show up, Canuck. You were showing off.” Player gives him a fist bump.

  There’s a lot going on, with lockers opening and all the guys replaying the highlight reel with each other. I don’t even notice Griz until he’s right next to me. He snuck in there. With how big he is, that’s a fucking accomplishment. He holds out his hand, and I grab it. He pulls me into one of his signature bear hugs. I swear the guy is only a couple of DNA tweaks from being an actual grizzly.

  “It’s good to have you back out there. That was something else, Blaze.”

  He slaps my back and then continues to congratulate the other guys on the team.

  “It was good to be out there,” I admit.

  Player doesn’t hide that he’s watching. He hovers, not saying anything. He’s really run hot and cold with me this year. He’s exploded at me in some red-hot rages, but he freezes me out with his icy anger too. He likes to keep me on my toes. This feels different.

  The locker room door swings open, and all our attention turns to it as Coach Wilson walks in. Dances in, actually. The smile on his face is about ten miles wide.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” he yells, and we cheer. Everyone quiets down when he lifts his hands. “I don’t know where you guys were hiding that all fucking season? I don’t really care. You guys are going to the Frozen Four!”

  It’s rowdy as fuck in here. Cheers and whoops echo off the walls.

  “Fro-zen Four! Fro-zen Four!”

  “We fucking got this, boys!”

  Coach looks around the room. “I’m proud of you guys. This will be our third year at the Frozen Four. After the rough start we had to the season, that’s pretty fucking incredible. The first year we went, you stole it. Last year, when you held the title, you proved it. This year, boys… men,” he corrects. His voice is full of emotion, and his eyes gleam with pride. “This year, enjoy it. You guys made this happen.”

  Once Coach Wilson clears out, the locker room buzzes with at least fifteen conversations. Most of them are about how to get beer. Everyone seems to agree that a little celebration, hidden from Prissy, won’t hurt anyone. I’m happy that we won, but I don’t want to go back to the hotel and drink. I used to celebrate every day that ended in Y by drinking and getting high. I’m over it.

  I shower and get dressed, and the more I hear about these party plans, the less I want to go. I grab my phone and frown at the screen.

  Me: I don’t want to celebrate.

  I don’t want to drink.

  I just want to be with you

  Prissy: RU serious? I can make that happen

  Me: dead serious. bring it on

  She sends me an emoji with sunglasses back to me. Whatever that means.

  The room starts to clear out, and I head for the door too when Player puts his hand on my shoulder, and I stop cold.

  “Thank you.” I think we’re both equally surprised by the words coming out of his mouth.

  “For what?”

  “You made me a promise and kept it. You left it all out on the ice tonight. Keep killing it.” He claps his hand on my shoulder and walks out with the rest of the guys. I follow him out the door.

  “Oh, hey Prissy.” Rookie draws a lot of eyes her way. Including mine.

  She’s standing out against the wall. A frown stitched to her face and her arms crossed. “Hey, stop. Don’t head out to the bus yet. There’s something I’ve got to say.” She stops us from walking by.

  Rookie stands next to her. Then Canuck. I walk over too. Pretty soon, the whole team is standing around her, listening. She’s no taller than five foot five, so she’s basically engulfed in a circle of giants. She doesn’t look intimidated.

  “Congratulations on the game. You guys put your team first, and you did it. Now, listen, I’m not an idiot. I know perfectly well that you plan to go back to the hotel to celebrate.”

  “Well, fuck,” Canuck says. Laughter spreads through the group. Even Prissy smiles.

  “How about this. I’ve got a bunch of errands to run, so I won’t be checking in on you. But, don’t give me a reason to regret it.” She narrows her eyes.

  “You got it, Prissy.”

  “That’s cool of you.”

  The team moves out, all of us heading to the exit. There's a bus waiting to take us to the hotel where, apparently, I’m going to be drinking with the guys.

  Whew-whew!

  The shrill whistle pierces the air and grabs everyone’s attention. Prissy pulls her fingers out of her mouth. “Not so fast there, Blaze. You’re with me.”

  I’m not the only one who’s standing here, stunned.

  “Oh, damn, she’s calling your ass out,” Canuck whispers.

  “I said don’t give me a reason to regret it. That's much easier if you’re with me. You can help me get stuff in town.”

  “Aww, c’mon,” Gucci pleads. “He got in the game. He got a goal. He’s got more reason to celebrate than most guys here.”

  “Fine, he can go back to the hotel. Where you guys can celebrate by studying and getting to bed.”

  “Sucks to be you, Blaze,” Griz says.

  “I gave it a shot.” Gucci shrugs and walks off.

  “Poor Blaze is grounded, guys.” I’m not sure who says it. It’s hard to tell who’s talking when they’re walking away.

  “Man, she’s got you completely Prissy-whipped,” Canuck calls over his shoulder, and the guys all laugh. The laughter gets quieter as they go out the doors. And I can’t hear it at all when they leave me behind. As the promise of a party shuffles away, getting ready to load their bags on the bus, I look down at Prissy and completely forget what I’m supposedly missing. Her eyes are on mine. I put my lips on hers and give her a kiss and realize, this is what I’ve been missing the whole time.

  19

  Dirty Little Secret

  Priscilla

  The fluffy snowflakes whirl around. It’s like someone shook up a snow globe and plopped us in it. Blaze walking next to me, staying so close, it’s reassuring. Normally I’d never walk around alone in a strange city at night. The burden of those worries aren’t completely gone, but walking beside Blaze mutes them for a while.

  “Where’d you learn to whistle like that?” Blaze asks.

  “Must have been my years living as a deckhand on a pirate ship,” I joke.
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  “No, really.”

  “I taught myself. My mom used to call me home that way when I was a kid. I always thought it was cool, so here we are.”

  “Impressive.”

  Blaze’s phone buzzes and dings with an explosion of texts. He reads the screen, shaking his head. All of a sudden, he stops and glances over his shoulder.

  “Fucking guys.” He points over at the bus that I refused to let Blaze get on back at the arena. It was still idling in the parking lot when we left, getting crammed with gear and guys. Now it’s pulled up to the stoplight next to us on the road.

  That bus might not be yellow, and the seats are definitely more comfortable, but it still reminds me of our old school field trips back in the day. With so many hockey guys pushed up next to the windows, fingers and faces are pressed into the glass as they point and yell things that we can’t hear.

  His phone keeps buzzing harder than a vibrator with brand new D-cells. The annoying text message notification keeps assaulting the silence. Blaze flips off the whole bus, and there’s an uproar so loud we can hear it from the sidewalk. Mostly laughter. The driver pulls away through the green light, and guys move from window to window to extend how long Blaze can see them giving him the finger.

  “Hopefully they don’t stay that crazy.” I start second guessing how I said I’d look the other way at a few beers and minor celebrations at the hotel.

  “Awww, c’mon. They earned a break.” Blaze looks at me from the corner of his eye. He suddenly seems to remember he’s still holding his phone. The screen lights up before he shoves it in his pocket. I don’t mean to read his screen, but I don’t try not to either.

  Canuck: Prissy-whipped!

  There’s a long line of laughing emojis after. From the amount of texts he got, I’m guessing that phrase may stick around for a bit.

  “Listen, if you’re going to do anymore whip cracking, don’t waste it on them.”