Carter's New Relationship

Dorian’s P.O.V

Shrugging off my leftover warmth from the stupid compliment, I leaned against the locker, watching Carter move to the center of the room, commanding everyone’s attention like he was born into it.

The bastard.

His voice wasn’t even loud–he didn’t need it to be. The guys quieted the moment he raised a hand, his blue eyes blazing like he was giving some State of the Union address. Oh, I’d love to see his fucking face once I steal his title and become captain. I’m sure he’d throw a tantrum, scream at the Coach, and probably call his daddy to build the school a new library. Coming from a long line of hockey legends, Golden Boy has the money to throw around, leeching off his father’s fading glory.

I barely bit back a snort, turning my attention back to him. The speech itself wasn’t anything mind-blowing, to be honest. Just your basic post-game “good job” spiel, but fuck if he didn’t sell it, gearing up the team to put in their bests in the future games. His voice was steady, and authoritative, with just the right amount of warmth to make you believe he actually cared about every individual player on this team. Every word landed. Every nod he gave felt personal. It was infuriating how easily he pulled it off.

For a second–a brief, goddam second–I felt something twist in my chest. It wasn’t exactly envy, but it wasn’t far off. Watching him like that, golden curls damp and clinging to his forehead, his shoulders straight, chest rising and falling with confidence, I caught myself thinking: he’s not half-bad at this captain thing.

Then the thought made me sick.

I clenched my jaw, shoving the treacherous little voice in my head aside. No. I wasn’t going to lead myself into seeing him as nothing more than what he was. An overhyped legacy kid who’d been handed everything. The only reason he was good at speeches was because he’d spent his life polishing that Golden-boy image to perfection. I bet he had etiquette coaches back home, teaching him what words to use to present himself as whatever the fuck this was.

A fucking fraud.

My fists curled tighter as his speech came to a close, the room erupting in hoots like he’d just delivered us to the promised land. I bit back the urge to roll my eyes as he stepped back, smiling, and Jaxon–our cocky-ass co-captain–took over.

“Alright, rookies!” Jaxon shouted, his stupid lopsided smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “It’s time to pair you all up with a godparent.”

Great. This bullshit. It happened in my high school and I ended up punching my ‘hockey godfather’ in the face when he kept trying to teach me how to hold a stick. Mind you, the fool hadn’t ever scored a single goal in his life and was finally let off the team during finals.

I tuned Jaxon out at first as he began reading off a list in his hands. My eyes pulled to the floor and I stared at it, counting the seconds until I could get the hell out of there. But then Jaxon’s voice broke into the bubble I’d secured myself in.

“And last, but definitely not least…number 13 also known as Dorian Hayes!”

I snapped my head up, narrowing my eyes. Who the fuck were they gonna pair me with? I swear if it’s that loose-mouthed Matt…

“Dorian’s godparent will be–drumroll, please–the Captain himself!” A shit-eating grin almost ripped Jaxon’s face apart and he threw his arm out toward Noah as he’d just announced the fucking Second Coming.

“Aww, man! Hayes just won the jackpot!”

The room erupted in loud noises, the rookies practically ripping at the seams with envy. Of course, they’d want to be paired with the Captain, even though he was a shit player. Everyone wanted to ride Carter’s coattails. Everyone but me.

My hand slammed against the locker so hard that I ripped my knuckles and the metal dented, cutting through the noise. The guys closest to me flinched, and I glared at them until they averted their eyes.

As a line of blood appeared on my bruised knuckles, I ground my teeth together, but I didn’t say a word. I was too fucking stunned and mad that the one person I hated would be the one pushing me around during practice and teaching me a game I knew like the back of my hand. At the end of the day, I’d be the one to teach him hat tricks and sharpen his shit skills but knowing Carter, he definitely wouldn’t be knocking at my dorm doors with a thank-you hamper.

Finally, Carter left the room, slipping out without even a glance in my direction, where other godparents were talking to their rookies.

Asshole.

The air in the locker room grew looser after Noah left and the guys broke into dumb conversations about stats, drills, and whatever else made them feel like big men. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, ready to get out of there, when Matt’s obnoxious voice rang out.

“I have news guys!”

All eyes swung to him.

“There’s a party at the Zeta house tonight!” he bellowed, grinning like the overgrown meathead he was. “Cheerleaders are hosting and they promised to personally congratulate us if you know what I mean.”

“Heck yeah!” Number 22 shouted, I didn’t know his name or what line he played on the rink, just the number at the back of his jersey was his only means of identity. They began shouting crude comments that made me want to slam my head into the nearest wall. I knew we were all in college with barely developed frontal cortex but is there any other thing these guys dreamt of other than sex?

“Gonna get my dick wet tonight!” Matt declared, slapping his rookie on the back. I just shook my head.

“Try not to break another condom this time, Matt,” Someone I’ve heard them call Greg joked and the room howled. “Your pregnancy scare with Jessica is still fresh on our minds.”

Fucking idiots. I didn’t even bother hiding my disdain as I pushed past them and headed for the bus that’d take us back to our college. I could only hope we’d arrive before five pm so I’d be able to go for my night shift at my part-time job. My savings were almost running out and I needed every penny I could get. 

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Hours later, after a shift of moving boxes and refilling shelves, I was wobbly on my legs and ready to sink into my bed, but somehow I found myself standing in the middle of the Zeta house, a half-empty red solo cup in my hand.

It was your typical college party with blinking colored lights illuminating the entire house, accompanied by music pounding out of unseen speakers. As bodies gyrated and ground against each other in every corner, sweat and cheap perfume filled the air. Frankly, this was my scene. I loved parties, especially the ones I threw back in high school. I didn’t have the money to throw a party but I’ve been told I was a smooth talker with a fuckboy charisma so I could move things around…most times. But as I stood sipping the shit orange colored drink in my cup, I didn’t feel anything but a vague feeling of disgust and the thought of someone I didn’t want to even think of.

Maybe I needed to get laid to rid myself of this tension. The closest I’ve come to any action since I split up with my high school girlfriend was some dude sucking my cock in the library the first day I’d moved my shit to Bridgewater Univerisity. What can I say? I enjoy the thrill and I’m one kinky motherfucker.

Shaking my head, I decided to give it a shot.

Target: Get drunk and get laid. 

So I moved through the dancing bodies, nodding my head to the beat and grabbing another cup as my previous one was empty. But as some of the girls sidled up to me, twirling their hair, my irritation grew. One puck bunny I’d seen sucking Matt’s dick under the stairs tried to slide her hand up my arm, but I just knocked off her ugly nails and glared until she backed off.

Just great Dorian. I muttered to myself, aware I was blowing any chances I had with the ladies.

I soon found myself in a lounge area and paused when I saw a small crowd had gathered around something…or someone. Curiosity got the better of me and I shoved my way to the front.

A blonde cheerleader, Rose or something, stood in the middle of the room, her outfits leaving little to the imagination–a hot pink crop top that barely covered her tits, a matching white skirt that was more like a belt, and heels so high she wobbled when she moved. My dick picked up slight interest. Why was everyone staring at her though? I mean she was sexy as fuck but there had to be something going on.

“Noah, baby!” She purred, moving towards the couch in the middle of the room. Her voice was slurred, and she was intoxicated. “I’ve been dying to say this!”

I froze, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end.

Just then Noah rose from the couch– I hadn’t even seen him there–and came into view. His usual calm expression was tinged with amusement as he snatched her waist and steadied her before she tumbled to the ground.

“I think you’re amazing!” she gushed, words tumbling over each other as she raked her hand over his chest... He was wearing a jeans jacket that wasn’t buttoned so she had access to his naked skin. I didn’t know why that observation bothered me. 

The cheerleader continued anyway. “ You’re smart and hot, and God, I just love you, okay? So, I’m asking you to be my boyfriend!”

I wanted to laugh. She wanted this stuffy ass golden boy to be with her. There was no way Carter would be with someone like her. She seemed loud, where he had to prefer girls who could match his quiet calmness. But then–

Then he smiled.

“Really, Rose?” he murmured, voice deep and vibrating despite the loud music. I shouldn’t be able to hear him as it was meant for only her ears but I was so still and attuned to him in this moment. Before I could process what was happening, he leaned in and kissed her.

The crowd exploded into a cheering frenzy, hooting and clapping.

My stomach churned, a hot, ugly rage bubbling inside me. I clenched my cup so hard it crumpled in my fist, the cheap alcohol spilling onto my hand, but I didn’t move…couldn’t.

What the fuck was he doing and why was I so angry?

It was as if I couldn’t stand the sight of Noah’s happiness...especially when it was directed at…someone else.

A tiny treacherous voice whispered in the back of my mind: He’s fucking mine.

I shoved the thought down so hard it made my chest ache, but the anger didn’t go away. It twisted darker and sharper, and as I watched him pull away from the blonde bimbo, a plan began to take shape in my head.

Carter thinks he could just be happy as captain and now with his brand new relationship.

Addition to plan: Steal Golden Boy’s new girlfriend.

My lips finally curled with a dark grin.

He would experience the same betrayal he’d once inflicted on me.