1. Archer

S enior fucking year. A year I have often found myself counting the seconds down until I reach it, but now that it’s here, I wish time would slow the fuck down. Now don’t get me wrong, the first week after summer break is actually my favorite time of the entire year, where the days are still warm and the nights are still cool. Plus, I haven’t even had a chance to fall behind in any of my classes yet, and after not seeing me for months, there is a hoard of beautiful women just vying for my attention.

It’s fucking perfect.

After spending the summer in New York with my family, being back in the small town of Fairfield is a welcome reprieve. I spent the first couple of weeks with my dad and stepmom in the Hamptons, before heading into the city to stay with my mom, stepdad and younger siblings. My sister Aurora was her usual busy self, focusing on her summer studies and volunteering at the local shelters with our mom, but my little brother, Everest, who is only one year her senior, crashed the car his dad bought for him and wrote it off completely. The kid is nothing if not a danger to society, and they couldn’t be more polar opposites if they tried, but I love them both unconditionally.

My parents announced they were getting divorced when I was eight and Aurora was four. Like most kids, I thought it was the end of the world. I was preparing for fights and alternating Christmases and birthdays, but Claire and Evan Gray handled their separation like pros. They always remained more than amicable with one another, still celebrating holidays together, and when my mom met David a couple of years later, my dad welcomed him with open arms.

David Monroe was a widow, who lost his wife when she gave birth to their son, my now brother, and he thought he would never find love again until he met my mom. David and Everest slotted into our family seamlessly, and he and my mom got married when I was twelve. That same year my dad also met Katrina, they fell hard and fast for one another and got married a year later, completing our blended family perfectly.

Most people would probably be sad that their parents got divorced and moved on from one another, but for my family, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. I love all four of my parents, and never once think of Everest as my step-sibling, even if he’s not my blood, he’s still my little brother. Both him and Rora are my best friends, and I wouldn’t change them for the world. I really enjoyed getting to spend time with all of my family, but still it feels good to be back on Hockey Row, which for one more year is where I consider home.

Being back on campus means my schedule has gone from relaxing by the pool and hitting up the best clubs in the city, to long, full days of classes, and the return of 6 a.m runs with my best friend Nova. The two of us bonded back in freshman year, where I basically appointed him as my first college friend after he failed to shake me off. Now he’s like another brother to me, and as well as being my friend and roommate, he is also the team captain, which means he also chewed my ass out for slacking on my summer training routine.

Nova Darkmore is the crazy calm to my cold chaos, he’s all moody and brooding, and has saved my ass from trouble more times than either of us would probably care to admit, but he loves me anyway. I think . And even though he’s a fucking tyrant sometimes, I love him too. Although I don’t know why he’s so pissed at me just because I didn’t go running this summer, it’s not like I didn’t keep my stamina trained in other ways. I’m nothing if not practical.

Still, I’m heading over to practice early, not wanting to give him or Coach Locke an excuse to ream me out before the season has even started. I’ve already dealt with Nova’s bullshit lecture, I don’t need another from Coach. Not when this is my last year playing college hockey, and despite a position waiting for me at my father’s Fortune 500 company, I want to go pro.

The ice calls to my body like a moth to a flame, and I am ready to feel the burn of the cold beneath my feet, and the weight of my stick in my hand. It’s where I’m meant to be, what I’m meant to do, and I won’t let anything get in my way. Despite fucking around a lot of the time, this is what I want to do, and I will do whatever it takes to get there.

When I push through the doors of the gym I inhale deeply, letting the familiar scent of ice and stale sweat swirl all around me. I love it here, it’s the only place I can ever truly switch off my mind and feel like myself, with no expectations other than to hit a puck. It’s always been like that, as if the ice has a direct link to my brain and can quiet my thoughts. It’s perfect.

The hallways and adjoining rooms are mostly quiet, but I nod to the couple of people I pass on my way, before I push into the changing rooms. I expect to find them dark, or maybe just Coach’s office lights on given how early I am, but the whole place is illuminated in light, and when I round the corner to my gym locker, I find the reason why.

Daemon Forbes.

One of my teammates for the last few years, but definitely not one of my friends. In fact, I would probably go as far to say that we are enemies with the amount of times we have butted heads. We may play on the same team, but Daemon goes out of his way to actively ignore me and hate me at the same time, in a way only he can seem to achieve. Yet for some reason I love every second of it.

After our first meeting in his dorm room back in freshman year, I thought we would be fast friends, high-fiving over shared conquests and becoming comrades, but I was wrong. When I saw him again after our first meeting, he pretended to have no idea who I was, while also acting like he had no recollection of what went down in his room that night. Now most people would take this as a hint, as a fuck you, and leave him alone, but those people are suckers. I instead take great pleasure in pissing him off any chance I get, and enjoy reminding him that he knows exactly what our cum tastes like mixed together. I’m nice like that.

Dumping my bag on the floor beside his, I lean on my locker, which just so happens to be the neighbor to his own, and reach out and ruffle his already messy black hair. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite teammate,” I preen with a smile, as he ducks away from my touch, flicking his now scathing stare to mine.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not fucking touch me, Gray?” he grits out in that low, lethal tone of his, and like always it sends a shudder down my spine. I fucking love getting under his skin, it gives me a thrill like no other.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love getting on my other teammates' nerves too, but annoying them doesn’t even come close to how it feels to make Daemon Forbes lose his mind.

“Damn, Forbes, didn’t you miss me even a little bit?” I ask, cocking my brow at him, making his stern face turn slightly confused as he takes me in, before his expression melts away back into its blank mask.

“No,” he states firmly, before focusing back on his locker and dismissing me completely.

Not that I let that deter me.

“Well, you look good, did the summer treat you well?” I ask, pulling my sweater over my head and tossing it onto the bench beside us, knowing that he won’t answer. “My summer was great, I hit up the Hamptons with my dad and stepmom, and then headed into the city to stay with my mom and stepdad. Hung out with my younger siblings, caught some rays, drank too much, you know how it is,” I muse, unbuckling my jeans, and noting he is now frozen beside me, his hand fisting his locker door and turning his knuckles completely white.

“No, I really don’t,” he snaps back, slipping out of his own shirt and instantly reaching for his long sleeved base layer.

As always, my eyes trail over the swirls of tattoos up his arms and down his chest, yet my focus is on the scars he is artfully trying to hide with the ink. I haven’t seen him freely without a shirt for more than a couple of seconds since the night he pretends to forget, and I’m well aware his body is not something he shows off freely. I didn’t think too much of it back then, too drunk on alcohol and sex to truly notice or care, but over the years it’s become more of a wonder. What happened to him? Was he in some kind of accident?

Now there are plenty of rumors of course, countless stories that may or may not be true, including tales of his father being in jail for murder, and I can’t help but wonder if he is the one who left his son’s torso littered in marks that will never fade. Which is crazy right? I mean, what kind of parent would do that to their child?

“Well anytime you want to hit up the Hamptons, let me know, I’ll be happy to show you around,” I tell him truthfully, snapping my gaze away, as a bitter taste coats the back of my tongue.

There is a long pause, so long that I almost think he isn’t going to respond, and when he does it’s with a resigned sigh. “Are we really doing this again?” he questions, and when I look back at him, he is staring at me intently.

“Doing what?” I ask innocently, and I swear he internally groans at my sunshine-filled personality.

“The thing where you act like we are friends, when we clearly aren’t?” he grunts, snatching his jersey from his bag and pulling it on over his base layer like some kind of safety net.

I abandon my own shirt and take a step towards him, leaning my bare shoulder on the edge of his locker and giving him my full focus. “So you’re saying we aren’t friends,” I confirm, and he nods slightly, completely exasperated by my existence. “So what do you call it when someone plays on the same hockey team as you, and also knows what your cum tastes like?” I wonder aloud. “I mean, you’re right, friends seems too casual a term for it, but I’m open to suggestions.”

There is anger in his eyes now, but just for a second they drop down my torso, and then there is something else, something more, a whisper of a memory. One that transports me back to that night in his room, one that has me needing to drag him into my chaos, but then just like always it disappears as quick as it came.

“Gray,” he curses, my name a one word warning and like an addict, I lean in even closer to him.

“Yes, friend?” I purr, breathing in his masculine scent, just as we hear the locker room door push open in the distance, breaking whatever spell he was under that made him say more than one sentence to me.

“Just stay the fuck away from me,” he snaps in a whisper, before turning on his heel and heading out the door towards the ice, just as our captain appears round the lockers.

“Arch, you’re here,” Nova states in surprise, dumping his bag on the bench between us, and I pull my eyes from the space Daemon just vacated to greet him.

“Of course I’m here, you yelled at me this morning and called me a fat lazy prick,” I remind him, and the bastard fucking smirks. “You know that shit hurts my feelings.”

“That’s because you think fucking counts as exercise,” he tells me, as he begins to strip, and I know he is going to have me on the ice in less than two minutes making me feel like I am dying, before Coach gets here and does the same.

“Listen, Darkmore, I don’t know what you’re doing with the ladies, but with the way I fuck, it is a damn workout, trust me.” The fucker rolls his eyes at me with a grin, slipping into his uniform, as I do the same.

“Making your groupies fake moan doesn’t count as an endurance activity, you know that right?” he asks, and I can’t help but bark a laugh at the mouthy prick.

“You go through just as many of them as I do,” I toss back, and he hums in agreement, his mind clearly going elsewhere.

“Yeah, well not this year, things need to change, this is our last shot, Arch, our focus needs to be on hockey and nothing else,” he tells me, pulling on his skates, and I nod mindlessly, as I take a seat beside him.

I know he has more to worry about than just this team, but he’s right, that’s how he was chosen to be Captain, he’s more focused than any of us. Yet as we make it out to the ice, I can’t help but notice that I’m not just focused on the ice, but also on the person who is already occupying it. So yeah, my captain is right, we do need less women, especially the ones who are only interested in us because our dicks are attached to fucking pucks, and I’ll happily cut back, but there is one thing I don’t think I’ll ever give up….

And that’s fucking with Daemon Forbes.