Cocky Shot: The Dartmouth Cobras ~ An Off Ice Novella

by Sommerland, Bianca

  “Luke?” Scott stared at her. “Why not the rookie? Or better yet, the pizza delivery guy?”

  “Hey!” Luke poked his head out around the lady fixing his tie. “I heard that!”

  “Good. Then you agree it’s a bad idea.”

  “I sure do.”

  Snorting, Becky patted Scott’s cheek. “If you’re worried, hurry up. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow. Keep them out of trouble.”

  “But Scott gets to get in trouble?” Luke called out as Becky was leaving. She gave him an amused look before continuing out the door. “She’s biased.”

  “Ya think?” Tyler sighed as a tall, skinny man with smooth black skin, white hair, and long lashes, named Benoit, fussed with his strategically mussed up blond spikes. “My hair is good, man. But the Aussie looks like he needs help with those curls. You spent all that time making them look all nice and bouncy too!”

  Ducking into the massive bathroom, Scott tried to listen through the door as he quickly changed, hoping Tyler wasn’t gonna mess with Ladd too much. The kid seemed uncomfortable around a lot of strangers in these settings. This couldn’t be easy for him.

  Thankfully, Luke was on it. His shout could be heard clearly through the door. “Tyler, lay off him. Ladd, quit fidgeting. And Hunt, if you throw that at Tyler, you’ll regret it, I fucking promise.”

  Not even five minutes and there are threats. Awesome. Scott hurried out, not bothering to do up his shirt, his tie still in his hand. On a big white armchair by the window, Ladd was staring up at Benoit and shaking his head, cheeks a blotchy red. Hunt was glaring at Tyler, who was glaring back while Luke stood between them.

  Richards was sitting at the vanity, touching up his eyeliner under the watchful eye of one of the makeup artist, who was smiling and giving him tips.

  At least someone was enjoying this.

  Focusing on the tense scene developing, Scott silently counted to ten, in bad French, before approaching the men. He snatched the empty can of soda Hunt had been about to toss at Tyler, pointed to a chair near Ladd, then turned to Tyler once the goalie had taken a seat.

  “You’re being a jerk, chill the fuck out.” He leaned closer when Tyler folded his arms over his chest, a stubborn set to his jaw. Speaking quietly so only Tyler could hear, Scott held the young man’s gaze. “Do I need to call Chicklet? Raif? Both?”

  Tyler’s lips parted. He inhaled roughly, letting his arms fall to his sides. “No.” He lowered his gaze. “Sorry, Ladd.”

  “It’s okay.” Ladd squared his shoulders, cringing as Benoit began painstakingly arranging his curls again. “Don’t make me look pretty. Please.”

  Benoit paused, giving Ladd a concerned look. “I’m afraid to ask why you’re worried about that, hon. Don’t be. You’re a handsome young man. Are you afraid of what your teammates will think?”

  Ladd nodded. Then shook his head. “Not here.”

  “Ah…I see.” Benoit went to grab a cloth from his huge bag of supplies and wiped his hands clean of whatever he’d been about to put in Ladd’s hair. “How about we just use water? Make your hair look a bit like it naturally would after you’ve been skating hard?”

  The tension eased from Ladd’s shoulders. He gave Benoit a small smile. “I’d like that.”

  Hunt chose that moment to crush the can.

  Scott arched a brow at him.

  The goalie scowled at the floor.

  It’s like that, is it? Scott rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Now wasn’t the time to dig into Hunt’s whiplash shift between acting like he hated Ladd, to being overprotective and jealous. For the next few hours they’d be taking pictures around the suite, then in different parts of the hotel. This wasn’t going to be much fun, but for Becky he’d damn well make sure the photo shoot went perfectly in her absence.

  His drunken baby talk had been made up for with the use of his tongue, until his mouth was sore and her legs were shaking, but he figured he still owed her.

  Today and every day.

  She never stopped making him feel like the luckiest man alive.

  He could give her this.

  Chapter 4

  “You’re not coming.” Dave stood blocking the door to the smaller suite he, Richards, and Ladd had been given to spend the night. As soon as he’d said he was ready to begin his plan, both men had grabbed their shoes, but this was a solo mission. “I’m just gonna get some quick pics. I’ll explain later.”

  “On your crappy phone?” Richards shook his head. “Not sure what you’re doing, but at least take mine. I…” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and groaned. “Forgot I broke it.”

  “Here.” Ladd stepped forward and held out his phone. “Mine’s good.”

  Dave hesitated. He’d wanted to avoid connecting the prank to either man if things got messy. Which shouldn’t happen, but his life had become a series of fucked up events, so he left nothing to chance. His phone was cheap and could be destroyed. Mason had given Ladd the newest iPhone.

  Not exactly disposable.

  Richards cleared his throat as Dave continued to stare at Ladd’s outstretched hand. “We’re in this together, buddy. Take the phone.”

  Inhaling slowly, Dave took the phone, blinking as Ladd’s hand closed over his. Ladd met his eyes.

  “Be careful.”

  A soothing warm stole up Dave’s arm. His lips curved as he held Ladd’s concerned gaze. “Always am.”

  Ladd snickered and shook his head. “Bullshit.”

  “Maybe. But I ain’t trying to get traded.” He reached out with his other hand to squeeze Ladd’s shoulder. “This is gonna end the pranks once and for all. Then we can move on and have a good season. I promise.”

  Smiling a little, Ladd inclined his head and took a step back. The trust in his eyes was heady. Dave just hoped he deserved it. He sounded a lot more confident than he felt.

  Heading up to the roof where there was a hot tub and a private sitting area for the penthouse guest, Dave swiped his card and quietly opened the door. He held on to, slipping outside and holding his breath as it clicked shut. Music was playing nearby, loud enough to block the sound of his movements, but he still moved as silently as possible, keeping to the shadows behind the strategically placed palms and decorative pillars. Some of the decorations were here for the photo shoot they’d be doing in the morning, adding to the tropical vacation-type feel of the little hideaway.

  A bit ridiculous, but Dave wouldn’t have minded coming up here to hang out himself if he didn’t already have plans. Would have been nice if the triplets had invited them. He might have reconsidered this whole plot if they’d been that cool.

  Not that he needed to be all friendly with these guys. He hated the locker room cliques and the three of them were the worst. Always telling inside jokes and showing off for the team. No matter what shit they pulled, everyone acted like it was just part of their charm.

  He broke a stick once—fine, maybe twice—and the team steered clear of him. What-fucking-ever, he didn’t need a bunch of friends, but Ladd might as well be invisible most of the time. Sure, he was quiet, but would it hurt for them to make an effort? And Richards…

  All right, Richards pretty much got along with everyone, but he wasn’t part of the in-crowd. Two years with the team and they still called him a rookie when he wasn’t one. Any more than Dave was.

  We get no damn respect. Dave leaned against a wall with an elaborate, colorful mosaic made of tiles and shook his head. The team really wasn’t that bad, but if he thought about the times Demyan had been cool and given Ladd a few pointers on the ice to up his game, or Carter had come over when Dave was having a bad game just to tap his pads with his stick and give him a ‘You’ve got this’ look, he’d turn around and head back inside.

  Which he probably should do.

  The music shut off and laughter took its place.

  “You’re lucky he had a can and not a stick. He looked like he wanted to take your head off, angel boy.”

  Dave inched
over to the edge of the wall so he could see the three men, all lounging in the hot tub on the other side. Their clothes were scattered on the bare wood floor around the black beach chairs and they had a tray of what looked like rum and several cans of Coke on a square table within reach.

  Carter leaned over to pour himself a drink, refilling Vanek’s as well, a slanted smile on his lips. “You never thanked me for saving you.”

  Vanek shook his head as he took his drink. “You didn’t, Scott did. And don’t start that shit again. Things were weird last time we did a scene.”

  “Oh fuck off, they were not. And me tying you up so Zovko could paddle your ass isn’t us doing a scene.”

  “Dude, I was naked.”

  “You’re naked now. So?”

  Dave’s lips parted. Damn, it was true? There were jokes in the locker room about how none of the Trouble Triplets had tan lines and they probably sunbathed naked. Together. He’d figured that was stupid, they were all in relationships and they were just friends. But maybe they were closer than he’d thought.

  Tyler let out a heavy sigh, sounding a bit tipsy. “It’s different when you’re touching me. And both Chicklet and Raif keep talking about having another party. They don’t mind sharing.”

  “Mmhmm… I know.”

  “Keep that up and I’m gonna get jealous. You want my man to fuck you or what?”

  “No, I just like the way he and Chicklet team up with the floggers. Seb letting them beat me together was awesome.” Carter brought his glass to his lips, eying Tyler. “I wouldn’t say no to him using me in other ways. If Seb wanted him to.”

  “Quit it, Mouth.” Demyan splashed Carter with an exasperated laugh. He sobered suddenly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Speaking of jealous, did you notice how Hunt acted when Benoit was taking care of Ladd?”

  “Yeah. That was…weird.” Carter set his glass down. “You think he’s all uptight about PDA because he’s holed up at the back of the closet?”

  “With how hard he pushed Richards to get with girls?” Vanek made a rough sound of disgust. “Naw, he’s ignorant as fuck.”

  Pressing back against the wall, Dave ground his teeth, his stomach tightening as the three men continued to discuss him. They were right, he shouldn’t have tried to hook Richards up with so many girls, but the guy had been his only friend at the time and he’d been miserable. He hadn’t told Dave he was gay for months.

  He’d done a really good job faking interest in chicks, which made Dave feel like shit. That his friend had felt like he needed to put on an act for him was all kinds of fucked up. But that didn’t make Dave ignorant, he just…hadn’t caught the signs? Or something?

  It didn’t matter. Who the fuck did they think they were, talking about him behind his back like this? Even if he was gay—which he wasn’t—how was it any of their business? Sure, he wondered sometimes if he might be bi, but he liked girls enough that it didn’t even matter. Why complicate his already messed up life?

  He could just imagine how his father would react. He’d either flip out or find a way to use it to improve Dave’s prospects. Make him the queer face of the league. The brand deals would be more than enough to cover the debt his father kept racking up in his name.

  No thanks.

  Shoving the pointless thoughts aside, Dave focused on the men. One thing was very clear. They didn’t think much of him.

  And the feeling was mutual.

  He pulled Ladd’s phone out of his pocket and started recording, careful to block the audio so no one could hear what was being said. Carter climbed out of the hot tub, fixing another round of drinks before stretching out, naked, on one of the reclined beach chairs. Minutes later, Demyan and Vanek joined him in the other chairs, looking like they planned to air dry, their conversation turning to Ladd.

  “I don’t know why he keeps going back to Russia to play.” Scott grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. “The rare times he talks about being there, he seems like he was happy to get the fuck out.”

  “He is. And we all know why.” Carter’s tone softened as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Probably the same reason his agent brought him here to play.”

  Dave had heard enough. He stopped recording and retreated quietly to the roof entrance, resisting the urge to slam the door. Heat seared the back of his neck as he took the stairs two at a time, forcing himself to a normal pace once he reached the penthouse floor.

  He stopped outside the door to his shared suite, placing his hand flat against the wall.

  Those fuckers were too much.

  Sure, he’d figured they talked about him. Maybe discussed what a shitty goalie he was. How he didn’t measure up to Bower. Hell, them taking bets on how long he’d last with the team wouldn’t have shocked him.

  But talking about his sexuality? Acting like he was some kind of bigot? What had he ever done for them to think so little of him? He did his best to be good for the team. He’d fucked up, but who didn’t?

  Swallowing hard, he looked at the phone. The prank was stupid. All the pranks had been stupid. What had started out harmless only made it more obvious he’d never belong here. This was their team. He was just passing through.

  He opened the door with his key card and walked straight into the room where Ladd was playing a game on his laptop. He handed Ladd his phone. “I got it, but you should just fucking delete it.”

  Putting his laptop on the nightstand, Ladd scooted over and patted the bed beside him.

  “Naw, man. I’m beat.” Dave snorted as Ladd grabbed his hand and pulled him down. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “Then talk.”

  What Dave really wanted to talk about was why Ladd was so comfortable touching him, when he avoided contact with almost everyone else. But there was no way to bring it up without making things awkward between them. Besides, maybe Ladd didn’t have an answer. Dave sure as hell couldn’t figure out why he was cool with it.

  He liked being close to Ladd. Not in a way that meant anything besides friendship—he refused to let himself consider more. He wouldn’t even know where to fucking start with something like that. He’d never been friends with a girl before dating her. Not that he’d dated much.

  With the chicks Dave had gone out with in the past, things were always clear. The girl knew what she wanted, which was usually a good time. The only woman he’d hit on after knowing her a little and liking her a lot, he’d almost gotten his ass kicked. His own fault, he hadn’t been paying enough attention. What he’d thought was her being shy was really ‘back the fuck off.’

  Not a mistake he’d make again. Ever. He’d become attentive of how people reacted to him. Most saw him as a temperamental, career-obsessed jock not worth their time. If they didn’t want to know him better, that was fine. He’d give them their space.

  Ladd didn’t want space. He saw something in Dave he liked.

  Dave wasn’t sure what, but he didn’t have enough friends to question it. He just took Ladd’s lead and tried not to ruin things by being a jerk, even when the dude’s silence irritated him.

  Like now.

  Two words seemed like all he was gonna get.

  He flopped down on the pillow and covered his eyes with his arm. “People don’t like me, Ladd. It’s not a fucking secret, but hearing those guys talk about me was just…I don’t know, a reminder of where I stand with the team?”

  Ladd pulled Dave’s arm off his face and looked down at him. “Between the pipes.”

  Spitting out a laugh, Dave inclined his head. “Yep. Got that. Thanks.”

  “No, I mean it. You have the most important job on the team.” Ladd rested his head on the pillow close to Dave, holding his gaze. “They don’t have to like you. They don’t matter.”

  “It’s all about the game, right?” Dave watched a loose strand of wavy hair slide over Ladd’s cheek. He had the strangest urge to tuck it behind Ladd’s ear, but that would be going too far. Ladd seemed content with things just the way they
were.

  No way in hell would Dave ruin that by making the wrong move.

  “When it comes to the team, yes.” Ladd’s brow creased. “What did they say about you?”

  “Carter thinks I’m in the closet.” Dave wasn’t sure why he was answering, they’d agreed it didn’t matter, but it felt good talking to Ladd. Right. “And Vanek thinks I’m some fucking homophobe or something.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Not what? Gay or a bigot?”

  “Either.” Ladd’s lips curved slightly. “You like girls a lot.”

  “Yeah.” Dave wet his bottom lip and dropped his gaze. “I could be bisexual, but…that would be messy.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, not after thinking the exact same thing on the way back to the room, but telling Ladd lifted a weight from his chest. It didn’t change anything, not really, but he didn’t have to be confused all alone. He cleared his throat. “Do you like girls?”

  This time, it was Ladd who looked away. “I have to.”

  “Bullshit. You know that’s not true.” Dave frowned as Ladd continued to avoid his gaze. “Hey, you can’t force me to talk and then shut me out.”

  “I’m not.” Ladd looked up, his eyes shining and his lashes wet. “I can’t…this isn’t something I can talk about. Not yet. But if I could… I’d tell you. You’re my best friend, Dave. My only friend.”

  “Richards is your friend too.”

  “It’s not the same.” Ladd toyed with the hair that lay on his cheek. “I can relax with you. When you move near me, I’m not afraid.”

  Dave went still. He wasn’t sure what Ladd meant, but he hated that anything scared the younger man. Scared him enough that he couldn’t even discuss it. So he focused on what Ladd had said. “What do you mean, ‘move near you’? Like how we are now?”

  Ladd tugged the strand of hair. “Yes. But also in general. It’s weird, but I don’t like being touched.”