Poetry On Ice (Totally Pucked, #1)

by Jesse H. Reign

Ant Decker. Number eight. The Vipers’ first-line right-wing and asshole extraordinaire. And when I say asshole extraordinaire, you better believe I mean it. The man is a total dick who, for reasons I’ve always struggled to understand, decided to make me his archrival when we were little more than kids.

Lore

How would you feel about seeing your colleagues buck-naked on a regular basis? Oh, you wouldn’t mind, would you? You little perv. How about if you’re a closeted gay man who’d very much like to keep his private life private? Hmm? How about then?

He’s smiling like he knows he’s pretty and is pleased about it. I want to go home.

I hang back once Lewis is patched up, waiting until Decker is the only one within earshot, and say, “You know people can see when you visit their profile page, right?” even though I promised myself I wouldn’t bring it up.

Caught in 4k staking this man’s socials

I thought I was done with the what-ifs and curiosity years ago. I questioned a thing or two when I was in my late teens, I won’t deny it, but I’m straight. Aren’t I?

It’s bone-deep. It runs through my marrow, heating it and making it sizzle. The question has been asked and answered. I know what I want. I know who I want. I want Ant Decker. My dick doesn’t care that he is a dick. It wants him. I know exactly what this is too—sexual attraction. I don’t want to be him. I want to do him. And more to the point, I want him to do me.

I want him to know I’m nearby. I want him to feel me the way I feel him. On the ice. And in bars. And in locker rooms and hotel lobbies. I want him to feel me like I feel him all the time. Everywhere.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.” “W-we’re at home,” I say dumbly. Big, beautiful eyes blink an angry morse-coded question in my direction. Best I can tell, he’s not familiar with the Home vs. Away Game boundary. He’s never heard of it. Doesn’t know it’s a rule. And that’s a problem for me.

You’ve created a monster my dude

I like Ant Decker. I like him like crazy. I like him in a big, scary way that I know in my bones is a big deal. A big thing. The next big thing in my life.

When I speak, his heart hears me. It reacts instantly. The slow, steady beat changes. It speeds up, doubling its pace and beating so hard and fast I feel the wild, hopeful clatter of it against the palm of my hand. He doesn’t speak, but his heart hears the question and answers for him.

Awww

“I don’t know,” I hiss. “Are you going to be cool about it if we are?” God. I’m so drunk. “Course I’m going to be cool about it. Are you kidding me? I’m dedicated to the enemies-to-lovers trope, bro. It’s like my favorite one.”

We love Bodie

My heart pounds in my throat when I think of that changing. I can’t stand it. I won’t allow it. I have to cut him loose. I know that. It’s not rocket science.

Doubt you’ll be about to do that but good luck bro

It’s unlike the other times I fell in love because this time…” He kisses me again, softer. Deeper. “This time, it’s the last time. The last time I’ll ever fall in love. It’s you and me, baby, from now till the end. It has to be ’cause I’ll never feel like this about anyone else.”

I take a deep breath and dive in without looking back. “I love you too, Princess. I tried not to fall for you. I really did. But I couldn’t help it.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” trills Pejic as he collects fat stacks of cash from the players around him. He cocks his head cheerfully at Ant and me and says, “I’ve been shipping the two of you since the day you stopped punching each other.”

“I’m a little slow,” admits Luddy, “so it wasn’t until the concussion for me. Seriously, Ant. Are you okay, baby? During a game? With cameras all over? D’you know how many times I’ve had to tell reporters that baby is Robbie’s team nickname?”

Okay because I was wondering how nobody heard him say that. Turns out they did hear him.