Suckerpunch

by Elyse Springer

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emma (@Cascadiac)

  Ouch. Just… ouch.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  A bitter loss to Minnesota, as the Cascades fall 7-1 here in Minneapolis. An overnight here in MN thanks to the snow and then we’re off to Illinois tomorrow to take on Chicago.

  SASHA DIDN’T smash his stick, but it was a close call. He did throw his gloves when he stepped into the visitor’s locker room, chucking first one and then the other into his stall as hard as he could manage.

  He was supposed to have postgame media, but Alyssa took one look at him and kicked him out. “Go. Take a shower or something, I don’t care, just go.”

  So Sasha went. He stood under the shower spray for far longer than he needed to, letting the scalding water burn a layer of skin off and hopefully wash away the rest of the evening with it.

  You messed up tonight, дурак.

  He’d played like shit, end of story. Coach had pulled him off the top pairing with Shawn before the end of the first, though things hadn’t improved after. Nothing had worked, nothing had clicked, and every time Sasha had tried to make a play he’d found himself three steps behind.

  He toweled off roughly and dressed quickly, keeping his head down and pulling a baseball cap on to hide his face. The seat next to him on the bus ride back to the hotel remained empty, and no one talked to him or tried to approach him.

  No one, that was, except Alex, who cornered him in the hotel elevator.

  “Not tonight,” Sasha growled.

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “I’m heading up to my room. Which happens to be down the hall from yours.”

  The seemingly innocuous words made Sasha’s mood blacken even more. He slumped against the elevator wall, staring intently at the display.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Alex’s words were exasperated and amused. “Put that damn pout away. So you had a bad game. It happens. The loss wasn’t your fault, you know.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Alex scoffed. “You’re giving yourself way too much credit. Matty had a bad night. Merkley’s line got shut down every time they even looked at the puck, and Minnesota knew exactly how to stop us in our tracks. It happens.”

  “Shouldn’t happen.”

  The door finally opened, and Sasha stormed out.

  “Sasha, wait.” Alex jogged a few steps to catch up. “Hey, come on.”

  Sasha slowed, ostensibly to locate his key card, but he was secretly pleased when Alex stopped beside him and bumped their shoulders together. “Just angry. Need food, sleep, tomorrow will be better.”

  “Well, food I can do. Come by my room? We can order room service, maybe put a movie on.” Alex reached out, resting his fingers on Sasha’s arm. “You shouldn’t be alone right now; you’ll just stew in your thoughts all night.”

  If he concentrated, Sasha could feel the heat from Alex’s touch through his shirt. He shuddered, then ducked his head. “Yeah, okay.”

  Alex’s room was as neat as Sasha would have expected. Housekeeping had made up the bed, but there were clear signs of habitation: a book and phone charger on the nightstand, a six-pack of sports drinks on the desk. Alex’s suitcase was laid out on the unused bed, his belongings arranged tidily across the comforter. Sasha’s own room looked like a tornado had blown through it, even after only twenty-four hours.

  “Grab a seat. I’ll call down for dinner. Let me know what you want?”

  Sasha passed along his order, then sat uneasily on the desk chair to watch as Alex hung up the phone and tugged at his tie. “Food’s gonna be about half an hour. You want some sweats to change into?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Suit yourself.” Alex yanked his tie loose, folded it neatly, and set it on his suitcase. His jacket went directly on a hanger, and then he unbuttoned his dress shirt and shook it out before hanging it up as well.

  And then—

  “What are you doing?”

  That damn eyebrow went up again. “Changing out of my game-day clothes. If we’re going to hang out, I’d like to be comfortable.” His dexterous fingers undid his belt and rolled it up, before returning to unbutton his slacks.

  Sasha tore his gaze away, face heating up. The team undressed in front of one another in the locker room all the time, easily walked around nude—or nearly so. You couldn’t really have body shame as a hockey player, but what happened in the locker room was different. This—glimpsing Alex slide his pants off out of the corner of his eye, seeing him in only tight boxer briefs and miles of smooth, pale skin, just the two of them in a hotel room—this felt different. Intimate.

  Alex sounded amused when he spoke again. “You can look now.”

  He was wearing sweats and a tank top, showing off his arms and muscled shoulders. His hair was ruffled, probably from pulling the shirt on, and his eyes looked darker than usual as they met Sasha’s.

  “I’ll put the TV on. Maybe there’s a game to watch.” Alex sat on the bed—the one he’d slept in last night, Sasha noted, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt—and grabbed the remote. “Dude, you can’t see the TV from over there. C’mere.” He patted the bed beside him.

  Sasha didn’t move.

  “Sasha.” Alex’s eyes darkened even further. “You coming?”

  The question was innocent enough, but it made Sasha’s mouth go dry. He nodded once, stood slowly.

  “You can take off your shoes and jacket, you know. Relax.”

  Sasha did as he was told, toeing off his shoes and hanging his jacket on the back of the chair. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolled them up to his forearms, then froze and eyed the bed.

  Alex waited patiently, watching Sasha with an unreadable look.

  Swallowing around the dryness in his throat, Sasha took a step forward and climbed onto the bed.

  “Cool.” Alex sounded happy. “Let’s see what’s on.”

  He flipped channels, pausing sometimes to watch for a minute or check a sports score before moving on. Sasha sat beside him, stiff and unmoving. He could feel Alex only inches away, arms sometimes brushing together as Alex shifted or laughed at something on the TV.

  The sound of a hockey game caught Sasha’s attention, and he looked up in time to see a flash of teal-and-white jerseys.

  “Wait.”

  Alex froze in the process of changing the channel. “Sasha, I don’t think—”

  Sasha shook his head. “Just wait.”

  The sports channel currently on TV was recapping that night’s game, the two announcers going over the highlights. “Petrov was out of position here, moving up from the blue line to play the puck, which resulted in the odd-man rush that made the score 4-0 Minnesota.”

  It was only one of many mistakes he’d made that night.

  The TV clicked off, silence falling on the room.

  “Sasha,” Alex said softly.

  Sasha stared at the black television screen, unblinking.

  Alex repeated his name. “Hey, it was a good play on your part. You were trying to help Leduc out. It’s not your fault that Minnesota’s D got there first.”

  Sasha closed his eyes, miserable. Alex could be as nice as he wanted, but that didn’t change the result of the game.

  “You know,” Alex said softly, “you’re only one person on this team. One piece in the puzzle. Even if you have a bad night, there are five other defensemen and twelve forwards on the ice as well. One guy has a bad night, it’s up to the rest of the team to help fill in for him. The entire team has a bad night? Well… you get a game like this one. This was a team loss, Sasha.”

  “Still feels like shit,” Sasha mumbled.

  Alex moved closer, eliminating the remaining distance between them so Sasha could feel the heat from his body all down his side. “Yeah, and it’s gonna sting for a while. But tomorrow we play Chicago. You just have to let it go and move on.”

  A gentle hand cupped Sasha’s cheek. He opened his eyes as Alex turned his head so he could meet tho
se beautiful brown eyes straight-on.

  “Tomorrow’s a new day,” Alex said quietly. “Fresh scoreboard, fresh ice.”

  In the low light of the hotel room, Alex looked like something straight out of a dream. His hair was soft, falling down in front of his eyes, which were bright and full of tenderness. He looked younger in the lamplight, flawless in a way that Sasha couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

  There was something else in his gaze too, that Sasha was terrified to put a name to. But it drew him in, making Sasha’s heart beat in his chest like it was trying to escape.

  “Sasha.” Alex’s voice was barely a whisper, and his palm was warm against Sasha’s jaw, his skin smooth and white except where it was flushing a pale pink along the top of his cheeks.

  God, he’s beautiful. Sasha had battled temptation and want constantly for the last few weeks. He’d looked, sure, but he hadn’t given in to the desire that coursed through him every time he was near Alex.

  But now Sasha found the last of his resolve crumbling. Alex was so close that he could see every eyelash, could track the way Alex’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Sasha could hear the hitch in his breath and feel the heat from Alex’s body.

  So he did the only thing he could do. He leaned forward and kissed Alex.

  Alex responded immediately, eyes fluttering shut, a tiny oh escaping his lips before Sasha covered them with his own once again.

  Sasha had weeks of longing built up, and he poured every ounce of it into the kiss. He pushed forward, and Alex fell backward easily, dragging Sasha with him until they were more horizontal, Alex stretched across the bed with Sasha hovering over him, pressing their lips together over and over until they were tingling.

  Alex was moaning, little sounds of want that lit a fire beneath the surface of Sasha’s skin.

  And Alex’s body beneath his was everything he could ever have imagined. He fit against Sasha perfectly, cradled between Sasha’s arms, a line of warmth pressed against Sasha’s chest. At some point Alex’s hand had migrated from Sasha’s cheek to his hair, and now his fingers were tangled up in the short strands, pulling Sasha closer, refusing to allow any space between them as he returned Sasha’s kisses with an equal amount of desperation and desire.

  Yes.

  Sasha kissed him until his lungs were burning and his lips were numb, and even then he couldn’t find the strength to pull away.

  And then a knock on the door echoed through the room.

  It yanked Sasha back to reality with all the force of an atomic bomb. He pulled away quickly, chest heaving and horror rising where lust and want had previously been.

  His skin felt hot, prickly. In front of him, Alex was flushed like he’d just been exercising, eyes so dark they were almost black. He licked his lips, the movement apparently unconscious, and Sasha tracked the flash of pale tongue hungrily.

  The knock on the door came again.

  “Fuck. Oh fuck.” Sasha yanked himself away as he realized what he’d done. Shame crashed over him, and humiliation as well, because even though Alex had responded, had kissed him back, Sasha knew that what he’d done was wrong.

  Alex didn’t move, still sprawled out across the bed.

  God, I let him comfort me, and then I took advantage of him being a good friend. Sasha felt sick to his stomach. “I should—I need to go. Now.”

  That spurred Alex into action. “Wait, please.” He hurried to sit up as Sasha threw himself from the bed. “Sasha, don’t leave yet. We need to talk.”

  Sasha shook his head. He could imagine what Alex needed to say, and that was painful enough. Hearing him say the words—You’re my friend, but that’s all we can be—would slice him to shreds.

  Sasha shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbing his jacket. “Nothing to say. I’m sorry. I’m—” He paused, hand on the door handle. “I should not have done that. Alex, you—you have a girlfriend, and I took advantage. I’m sorry.”

  Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Sasha didn’t want to hear it. He yanked the door open, brushed past the startled and confused room service delivery person and the cart of food, and fled down the hall.

  eenie-minni-hockey-mo:

  my friend is a huge cascades fan (why becka?? you live in st. paul, not seattle!) so we decided to head down to the hotel the players were staying at after the game, even though it’s cold as balls out here, because she wanted to try and meet some players. obvi all the guys were really bummed but like sjoberg and engel stopped to sign her jersey and makela took a selfie with both of us! nice guys, even if I’m glad my boys beat them tonight. (sorry scades fans.)

  anyways, we’re about to call it a night and go somewhere warm, when suddenly petrov comes tearing out of the hotel. no jacket, still in his gameday suit, lookin like he’d just gotten some really bad news. might just be the bad loss, but hoping everything’s okay with him?

  #hockey #cascades #minneapolis #alexander petrov #still can’t feel my toes #the things I do for my friends

  198 notes

  ALEX TOOK a deep breath, let it out. He texted Shawn and told him to come by.

  And then he fell back against his pillows, closed his eyes, and evaluated the last few minutes.

  Sasha had kissed him. Sasha had kissed him. After weeks of watching and waiting, Alex had started to wonder if Sasha was ever going to say or do anything about the palpable tension that built up whenever they were in the same room.

  But he had. Sure, Alex had been flirting with him. He could have moved his suitcase off the other double bed and given Sasha his own space, but he’d seen the dark red flush on Sasha’s cheeks and neck when he’d gone to change out of his suit, and he’d been… curious.

  That curiosity had paid off so beautifully too. The heat in Sasha’s eyes and the way he’d kissed Alex like a starving man discovering a buffet, had been everything Alex had dreamed about.

  Of course, then Sasha had remembered his chivalry or whatever, and fled.

  I kissed him back. Did he even notice? I was 1000 percent on board with everything he was doing, and he still thought he was taking advantage. Alex cursed under his breath, tempted to throw the remote across the room. I should have just told him about Heather weeks ago.

  This time the knock at the door was a welcome one. Alex rolled off the bed and opened it, moving aside to let Shawn in.

  Shawn immediately spotted the tray of food, which Alex had already managed to forget about. “You ordered me dinner? Nice, thanks, bro.”

  “Not… quite.” Alex winced. “It’s Sasha’s. Or, I guess, it was his. You can have it, though.”

  Shawn’s eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. “Um.”

  “Sit down,” Alex said. “It’s a long story.”

  They were both athletes, which meant they could eat a full meal even in the middle of an emotional crisis. Shawn steadily devoured the salmon he’d claimed, eyes glued to Alex as he explained what had happened from the moment they got to the hotel until Sasha had stormed out of the room and vanished.

  “Dude.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Shawn chewed thoughtfully. “You just need to find him and tell him Heather isn’t your girlfriend.”

  “I tried calling him. He sent me to voicemail. And it’s not exactly something to explain over text, you know?”

  “I guess.” Shawn shook his head. “The two of you are an equal emotional mess. Maybe you deserve each other after all.”

  He knew Shawn was joking, but the words sat heavily in Alex’s chest. Maybe we’re made for each other. The way he felt about Sasha, how quickly he’d started to fall for the other man—And he feels the same way. Now I know he does.

  “I just hope I can get him to listen,” Alex said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Seattle Cascades may have one of the most difficult schedules going into March, but that’s not going to stop them from dominating on the ice. The loss of goaltender Eduard Despres made playoffs look unlikely as the Cascades started their late push tow
ard the end of the season, but the team has held on against all odds. After a devastating loss to Minnesota on Monday, they went on to win handily over Chicago the next day with rookie Alex Fanning in net, and managed to keep the game tied against St. Louis through 65 minutes of play on Thursday before falling in the shoot-out. Now they’re home briefly before heading to Colorado, Arizona, and California for yet another road trip, where we expect them to continue to rack up points on their way to the playoffs.

  —Mark Lund, contributing writer, NHL.com

  ALEX HAD planned to talk to Sasha the next day before their game against Chicago, but that plan fell through in about five minutes flat the next morning, when he walked into the dining room at the hotel to find Sasha already seated at a full table, refusing to look at him.

  In fact, Sasha did everything in his power to put distance—or, failing that, other teammates—between himself and Alex at every opportunity over the rest of the road trip. He sat next to Misha on the flight to St. Louis, shared a row with Mo on the bus, and spent every free second of practice working with the defense coaches or in the gym with his headphones on.

  Try as Alex might, there was no chance to catch him alone. Road trips were great for team bonding, but they also meant there was very little privacy or opportunities for a one-on-one. Even if Sasha hadn’t been pretending like he didn’t exist, there wouldn’t have been much chance for Alex to corner him and beg for a chance to explain.

  “What if I walk across the locker room after the game, push him against the wall, and kiss him senseless until he finally lets me talk?”

  Shawn, who was sprawled across Alex’s spare bed while playing a game on his phone, just laughed. “I think you’d give the guys a nice show. But there’s got to be a better way to make Sasha listen to you.”