Chapter 13

Icollapse onto my bed, still hot from morning skate. The sheets feel cold against my skin, emphasizing the emptiness of the room. I close my eyes, trying to drift off for a game day nap before tonight"s big season opener, but my thoughts keep circling back to Presley.

"Damn it," I mutter, frustrated with myself for not being able to relax.

Her image is seared into my mind – those big, brown eyes and her slender waist that I want to wrap my arms around. I sigh, knowing that I won"t be able to fall asleep unless I do something about this nagging boner in my shorts.

"Pres, you"re driving me insane," I whisper under my breath.

My hand slowly makes its way down my body, finding my already hard cock. I imagine Presley"s assertive voice in my ear, telling me what she wants me to do to her, and my body responds to the daydream.

"Fuck, Presley," I moan softly, my hand picking up speed as I imagine her hands on me instead.

My heart beats hard in my chest, and the loneliness of the room fades away, replaced by a bittersweet sense of being able to physically touch the now fantasy as I picture Presley"s face flushed with pleasure. I wish we could share this moment with our bodies entwined, but the memory of our time we were able to spend together will have to suffice for now.

"God, you"re so beautiful," I pant, envisioning her perfect breasts and the way they felt in my hands. It doesn"t take long before the pressure builds, threatening to explode.

"Presley," I gasp, as white cum shoots on my belly until I shudder with release.

As the waves of pleasure subside, I lie there, catching my breath and feeling satisfied but regretful that it can't be more than a fantasy. Is this all we"ll ever be, a fleeting memory and a fantasy? I wish I knew what our future held.

"I miss you, Pres," I whisper.

With that thought, I finally drift off into a restless sleep.

The buzz in the air is electric as I walk into the locker room later that evening. My teammates are already in various stages of getting ready for the game, their laughter and teasing filling the room. I let the camaraderie wash over me, easing the loneliness that"s been gnawing at me all day.

"Hey, Wes!" Amir calls out, slapping me on the back. "Ready to go out there and kick some ass?"

"Damn right, dude!" I reply enthusiastically, forcing myself to stay present and focused on the task at hand: our season opener. As I pull on my gear, my thoughts keep drifting back to Presley, but I shove them aside. Right now, I need to be here, with my team.

Once we"re geared up, our coach gives us a last-minute pep talk, his voice full of determination and fire. His words ignite something within me, and I feel the rush of adrenaline surging through my veins. This is it. It"s game time.

"Alright, boys, let"s go!" I shout, leading the charge as we burst out of the locker room and onto the ice.

The roar of the crowd fills my ears as I step onto the icy surface, the bright lights reflecting off the smooth expanse. I position myself on the right wing, every muscle tensed and ready, my eyes locked onto the puck. A powerful sense of purpose courses through me, pushing away any lingering doubts or regrets.

"Let"s do this," I say to the cheers of the crowd, my breath fogging in the cool arena air.

And then, with the drop of the puck, the game begins.

My focus sharpens as I skate, feeling the ice beneath my blades. I shoot forward, fighting for the puck with an intensity that"s second nature by now. My mind is fully immersed in the game, and I quickly pick up on the patterns of both our team and our opponents.

"Nice pass!" one of my teammates shouts as I expertly flick the puck to him. I grin, the joy of a well-executed play coursing through me.

"Keep it up, boys! We got this!" I encourage, my voice full of energy as we continue to attack and defend in a flurry of speed and strength.

As the game progresses, I feel the pressure mounting. The score remains close, and every move counts. I know that a win in the season opener will set a positive tone for the rest of the season, and I"m determined not to let my team down.

"Come on, Wes! Score!" Thiago yells from the bench.

Despite the pressure, I revel in the competition, the physicality, and the camaraderie of my teammates. It's one of the reasons that made me fall in love with the game. Although, I'm distracted with thinking about what Presley and Sawyer are doing right now.

"Focus, Weston," I mutter under my breath, shaking off the distracting thoughts. This game is important, and my team needs me at my best. There will be time for everything else later.

With renewed determination, I skate harder, shoot faster, and fight for the puck with everything I"ve got.

"Let"s finish this strong and get that win!" I shout to my team.

The final minutes of the game are a blur of adrenaline and determination. I can feel the tension in the air, the crowd on edge as we battle for victory. As the seconds tick away, I know it"s now or never.

"Ten seconds left!" my teammate yells, and I see an opportunity. I race down the ice, receiving a pass right upon the opposing team"s zone. With a deep breath and every ounce of strength, I shoot the puck towards the net.

The buzzer sounds just as the puck flies past the goalie and into the net. We"ve done it. We"ve won the game! The happiness of the win courses through my veins as my teammates swarm me, our collective cheers echoing throughout the rink.

"Awesome job, man!" Thiago exclaims, patting my back.

"Thanks, Thi," I reply, grinning from ear to ear. We skate around the ice, celebrating with our fans and basking in the glory of the moment.

As we leave the rink and head back to the locker room, the enthusiasm of the game begins to fade. The win is incredible, but it"s not enough to fill the emptiness that has settled in my chest. It"s a familiar feeling. It's the loneliness that creeps in after the high of competition fades away.

All I want right now is to be reunited with Presley, to hold her close and share this moment with her. The thought consumes me as I change out of my gear and say my goodbyes to my teammates.

"See you guys at practice," I call out, shouldering my bag and heading for the exit.

"Great game, Wes," my coach says, clapping me on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

"Thanks, Coach," I reply, my mind already drifting to thoughts of Presley and her warm embrace.

As I climb into my car and head back to my house, the ache in my heart grows stronger.