BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance

by Eddie Cleveland

  She softly snores, her face half hidden in her pillow. Her dark hair isn’t perfectly put up. It’s wild and coiling out from her head like Medusa’s snakes. Just like Medusa, she turns me to fucking stone when I look at her. Well, my cock anyway.

  Last night she was so chill. That Prissy didn’t have her panties in a twist. Actually, that Prissy isn’t wearing any panties at all. Last night was fun, but how is this all going to play out once her hair goes back up and her underwear goes back on? Did it change anything or was last night’s Prissy some kind of birthday fluke?

  I don’t know where any of this leaves us, but I’ve gotta leave a bladder full of last night’s beer in a toilet. Easing out of Prissy’s bed, I’m slow and quiet. I don’t want to wake her. I get my clothes back on and stumble down the hall. Time for everyone’s favorite hook-up game: bathroom-door roulette. Which of these identical, white doors has a toilet behind it? Twist the random door handle and take your shot. I take my chances and can’t believe I get it right on the first try. Steam pours out of the room, but I’m too focused on emptying my bladder to think about why.

  “Ahhh!” a naked lady rubbing body cream down her leg screams. She lunges for a towel, and I fling my hand up in front of my face like I don’t know how fucking eyelids work anymore.

  “Shit. I didn’t know anyone was in here.” I slam the door. I’m not sure what to do. I still have to piss. Worse now, actually. I contemplate going on the front lawn when the door opens back up. More puffs of steam emerge, then she steps out.

  “I should have knocked, but I wasn’t sure if it was a bedroom. Knocking on a bedroom wouldn’t have been as bad though,” I start.

  “It’s fine.”

  There’s a fluffy blue robe wrapped tightly around her, and that towel she grabbed is twisted in that gravity-defying thing women do with their hair. With all the screaming and fog and tits, I never noticed that she’s quite a bit older than I expected Prissy’s roommate to be. She’s beautiful, but she has some lines on her face that give away her additional experience.

  “It’s all yours.” She won’t look at me. Instead, she rushes up the hall, disappearing into her room.

  Well, fuck. I’m not going back to sleep now. Should I go wake up Prissy and tell her what happened? Should I leave? I’m not sure. The only thing I know for sure is that I have to take a piss. Once I finish and wash up, I’m thinking a little clearer. I decide food will help me think even better. I head downstairs to see if I can scrounge a bowl of cereal or something.

  I wasn’t expecting to run into the roommate again. She’s dressed now. The towel is gone too, which makes the fact that her hair is silver even more notable. There’s a family-sized box of Honey Nut Cheerios on the counter. It reminds me of my ultimate childhood freedom: Saturday morning cartoons with zero adult supervision. Right now, it just makes my stomach growl.

  “You want some? There’s bowls right up there.” She directs me to the right cupboard, then gets me some milk from the fridge. “I figured Priscilla brought someone home. Either that or she became religious.” Bemusement spreads from her smile up to her eyes.

  “Meaning?” The clink of the cereal hitting my bowl just reminds me how starving I am.

  “It had to be sex or praying. You know. All that, ‘Oh My God!’” She shrugs.

  “I guess I’ve got two things to apologize for. First, should’ve knocked. Second, sorry for the loud sex. I wasn’t thinking about the whole roommate situation last night.”

  “Roommate? I wouldn’t call her that. She was definitely my womb-mate though. Heh, get it?” She grins at me. “I’m saying she’s my kid.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m pretty sure. I mean, I never had her DNA tested, but I do remember pushing out her pumpkin head. So, yes. Really. I’m April, by the way.”

  “Blaze,” I answer.

  “I heard a scream. Is everything all right?” Prissy shuffles into the kitchen. She’s wearing clothes, so it’s safe to assume she’s got a panty situation going on. The question is: are they still in a twist?

  “A scream? Oh, that was at least twenty minutes ago. Jeez, I hope I never fall down the stairs or something.”

  “I must have fallen back asleep.”

  “I should get a guard dog. If someone breaks in, you’ll probably sleep through it.”

  “Yeah, go with the guard-dog plan.” She rubs her eyes. “Because, even on a good day, I’m not getting up and ninja kicking anyone.”

  “That’s a shame. You’d make a cute ninja.” My smile dies when she focuses on me. Prissy’s frown kills it.

  “And I think you two make a cute couple,” April grabs a bottle of Tylenol out of the cupboard and shakes a couple out of it.

  “Mooom,” Prissy groans.

  She fills a glass with some tap water and hands it off to Prissy. “Here.”

  “Thank you, but do you think we can have a second?”

  “Okay, I’ll let you love birds have some breakfast in peace.” She smiles at her daughter. April turns her attention my way. “It was nice to meet you, Blaze. Remember, it’s always better to knock on a bedroom door than walk in on someone in a bathroom.” She winks.

  Prissy’s mouth opens and her eyes open wider. “He walked in on you?” She says it like the breath got knocked out of her.

  “Not using the toilet. That would be awful, wouldn’t it? I was moisturizing.” Her mother helps ease the anxiety from Prissy’s face. “Because I just got out of the shower.”

  And, it’s back again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Don’t worry, honey. Everything is fine. Take some deep breaths. Have some breakfast. There’s nothing to stress about.” Her mother gives her shoulder a squeeze, and I can almost feel the warmth she has for her kid from over here.

  It’s nice. A real touching family moment, even if we are discussing me seeing her mother completely naked. Once April clears out, all that warmth flees the room with her. Prissy moves around the kitchen, making herself toast. Buttering it. Spreading jam. The entire time, she doesn’t say a thing. The only vibe I’m getting off her is ice cold.

  This feels like the right time to pour the milk all over my cereal and dig into a slurpy, crunchy bowl of Cheerios. “Sorry I walked in on your roommate.” I talk around the food in my mouth and Prissy’s shoulders tense.

  “We are roommates. I pay rent.” Prissy starts brushing invisible crumbs off her hands. Even when she’s pretending not to be flustered, she’s sexy as fuck.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Anyway, who I live with doesn’t matter. Um, so last night, that was…”

  “The best sex of your life?” I fill in the blank.

  “A mistake.”

  I liked my answer better.

  “We just got carried away. It never should have happened.” Prissy bites her lip and avoids my eyes.

  “Twice,” I remind her.

  “Yeah, it shouldn’t have happened twice.”

  “I can make time for a third.”

  “No, this can’t be a thing. It’s a bad idea for a million reasons.” She finally stops avoiding me, and her eyes land on mine. Worry whirls in them like tumbleweeds across a desert. “I’ll lose my job.” Her eyebrows crinkle with concern.

  “Why would you lose your job? No one needs to know what we do. We’re not hurting anyone.” I try to capture the last few O’s floating in a lake of milk with my spoon.

  Prissy lifts her hand and shuts me up. I hate seeing her upset. This isn’t the fun upset where I make her blush and push her buttons. This is regret, and it’s a kick in the gut.

  “No, listen. Blaze, I’m serious. This never happened. This wasn’t the beginning of anything. We’re never going to do this again, okay? You need to archive this in your sex history file cabinet. Let me get lost among the thousands of other files. Like last time.” She mumbles the last part.

  So, nothing is changing between us. Mystery fucking solved.

  “Consider it forgotten,” I answer. She d
oesn’t follow me to the door. She doesn’t say goodbye. She’s already filed this experience away… under regret.

  13

  Playing Games

  Priscilla

  The entire Westbury men’s hockey team is crammed in the space outside my office door. Being in a small space with that many guys can be a bit much. When the meeting formally starts, I’ll pop my head out. Until then, I’m good. Coach Wilson doesn’t include me in a lot of team meetings. He usually saves his pep talks for the locker room. It’s only the second time he’s called everyone together like this since I’ve been here.

  The first time was when Blaze got busted for sneaking around on campus property making a sex tape with the mascot head on. Hopefully this time isn’t as dramatic. I have no idea what the other guys have been doing, but I know Blaze has stayed out of trouble for the past twenty-four hours. He’s been too busy bringing all that trouble to my life instead.

  Only hours ago, I was lying naked in his arms. Only hours before that, he had my entire body quivering with the strongest orgasm I’ve ever felt. Blaze isn’t the only reason I’m hiding behind my desk, but he’s the main one. I feel like the less we see of each other, the better. At least until we can put last night out of our minds. It might take a while. I don’t think last night is something I’m going to forget anytime soon.

  Hiding in my office with the door wide open is about as sophisticated as eavesdropping on a library conversation by standing on the other side of the book stack. I might feel like my computer screen is blocking me from view, but everyone knows I’m here, including Blaze. Judging from the snippets of conversations, others might be aware I’m in here, but they do not care.

  “Chode chafe” and “dick fungus” are not word combinations I commonly hear in casual conversations. And I’m okay with that.

  I peek around my monitor to spy on Blaze. He’s got his back to me, but my view of Player is clear. His eyes are locked on Blaze. He snarls at him like an attack dog.

  There’s a clear divide in the team. Player has more guys standing near him, but Blaze isn’t exactly being shunned. Everyone seems to be pretending that the rift between them isn’t hanging over the team, threatening to rip them apart.

  “If you’ve got something to say to me, why don’t you spit it out. Stop throwing dirty looks like a sulky girlfriend.” Blaze stops pretending. He does nothing to defuse the ticking time bomb. As usual, he snips the fuse even shorter and then sparks it back up. It’s like he can’t stop himself from blowing up his life.

  “We better not be here because of your stupid ass,” Player answers through gritted teeth.

  “This isn’t the time or place, guys. Chill,” a mountain of a man they call Griz interrupts.

  “Don’t tell me to chill.” Player shakes his head. “Last time Wilson called a meeting like this, we all got bullshit restrictions because of this fuck-up.” He juts his thumb at Blaze.

  Player doesn’t seem to see the impact his words have. Before he balled his fists and the anger took over, Blaze winced.

  “And the worst part is, he doesn’t give a single, solitary fuck.” Player keeps going. “Where did you go after your little baby tantrum last night?”

  “None of your fucking business,” Blaze growls.

  “Bullshit. You were out all night and came home smelling like booze and a whorehouse,” Player answers.

  Shots fired. My perfume doesn’t smell like a whorehouse! Does it? It’s not like I’d know.

  “I don’t know what this meeting is about, but I know it’s not about that,” Blaze answers.

  “It fucking better not be. I’m done covering for your ass.” The glance exchanged between them is intense but brief.

  “You gotta cool it.” Griz keeps trying to reason with Player. It doesn’t look like it’s working though. “You’re not Blaze’s babysitter, man.”

  “Yeah, he’s already got one of those and still can’t get his head out of his ass.”

  “That must piss you off. If my head’s in my ass, it means I’m not licking your nuts like all these other guys,” Blaze fires back.

  “Excuse me?” Player’s nostrils flare, and he stands taller, jutting out his jaw.

  “This isn’t the time or the fucking place,” Griz booms, and it shuts up the room.

  Player sniffs loudly, walking away to the other wall. He looks disgusted by Blaze’s presence. It’s a presence I don’t want to notice, but I can’t help it. When he stands with his back to me like that, it's too easy to check him out. He was right, hockey butt is definitely a thing.

  One of his roommates, the one from Canada, stands next to him. “Don’t mind Player. He’ll move on, eventually. It wouldn’t hurt if you apologized about the birthday party.”

  “I already did,” Blaze answers. “To Kaylee. Fuck Player.”

  “Stop making it hard to be on your side. You don’t need to keep provoking him.” Canuck gives him a look. Blaze returns it. They both just stand there, stiff, unmoving. I’m not really sure where this is going, then all of a sudden Blaze sighs. They both deflate a bit, their shoulders dropping as they seem to relax. “So, tell me, where’d you go last night?”

  Now I’m the one who is stiff and unmoving. I tighten in my seat. My ears are strained. Everything is a blur. My heart beats too hard in my chest. What will Blaze tell him?

  “Did you bring in twenty-one with a bang?” Canuck laughs. They both do. I don’t laugh. I hold my breath.

  “Yeah. I met a girl at the bar.”

  Technically, true.

  “Was she a bunny?” Rookie sneaks in next to Blaze now that the showdown between the big dogs is done.

  “No, I don’t think so. If she is, I don’t remember her.” His voice has an edge in it. An edge meant for me. He knows I’m listening in.

  “She was already with another guy. I was just sitting at the bar when she ambushed me. She practically begged me to join her and the guy.” He might be remembering things a little differently than I do now.

  “Like a threesome?” Rookie sounds like he just saw a magic trick that blew him away.

  “Someone got spit roasted!” Canuck humps the air and a bunch of guys who were pretending not to listen give themselves away by laughing.

  “That’s what I was thinking. I figured this girl wants it dirty. The old double dicks.” Blaze is clearly fucking with me now.

  “Aww, man, I can’t imagine fucking a girl with another guy.” Rookie sounds stressed by the idea.

  “Just work on fucking one chick first. Double dicks are advanced level material. It’s like beating the Grand Poobah of bad guys in the last level of the game. You still haven’t beaten the first level.” Canuck gives him a hard time. It’s a cheap shot, but Canuck doesn’t care. He just grins like a comedian who laughs at their own jokes.

  “He still hasn’t even played the game!” I don’t see who called it out, but this time Rookie burns up with shame. It sucks that the guys ride him so much about his virginity. It’s weird, if girls show up to college as virgins, it’s seen as a challenge. When guys do, everyone assumes there’s something wrong with them. Being a college virgin doesn’t mean he’s a social reject with a neckbeard. Rookie is a good-looking guy… he’s just not cut out for one-night stands.

  The guys turn their attention back to Blaze. “So, any Eiffel Tower action?” Canuck pretends to high-five his invisible threesome partner.

  In a way, I’m grateful this has gotten so far from the truth. No one would expect me and Blaze to hook up under normal circumstances, let alone ones that include terms like spit roast and Eiffel Tower.

  “No. She kissed me and the other guy left.” My heart leaps into my throat when he brings the conversation back to reality.

  How did I let this become my reality?

  “Are you for real?” Rookie blinks in disbelief.

  “I swear.”

  It technically is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but I still wouldn’t be comfortable swearing on a bi
ble about any of it.

  “Then we went back to her place, and the details are blurry, but I know two things for sure. One, I gave her the best fuck of her life. Hands down.”

  Even though I can’t deny the truth in that, I don’t like that he’s so cocky about it.

  “And the second,” Blaze continues, “she has the best ass I’ve ever seen. Period.”

  Everyone stops talking as Coach Wilson walks into the middle of the floor. I can’t hide in my office anymore. I refuse to look over at Blaze, even though I can feel his eyes on me. Even though I can feel his stupid smug smile.

  “Sorry I’m late. I’m juggling a lot of balls right now, and I’m not a great juggler.” When Coach starts talking, any mumbles or murmurs that were still coming from the group stop.

  The hockey boys might not always respect each other, or themselves, but Coach Wilson is another story. Every mouth is shut. Every pair of eyes are on his face. Every pair of ears are listening.

  “The powers that be on the board seem to be calming down. Ms. Stevens, everyone is impressed with the work you’re doing. You’ve been doing a hell of a job keeping our PR issues under control.” He gives me credit, but it just makes me cringe.

  “Being Blaze’s babysitter,” someone mumbles. I have guesses about who, but I didn’t see.

  “Thanks.” I hope my smile doesn’t look as painful as it feels on my face.

  If it looks suspicious, Coach Wilson doesn’t care. “Listen, I know it’s been rough out there playing with such a strong member of the team sitting out. Tonight’s game is going to be tough, but this team is bigger than any one person. This team will rise to the occasion. This team will succeed.”

  The space booms with the cheers and all the “fuck yeah” being yelled.

  Coach Wilson lifts his hands, and the noise dies immediately. “That being said, it’s no secret we could use Blaze. Right? So, tomorrow afternoon I’m gonna be sitting down with the board to see if I can get Blaze’s suspension knocked down by a game. Before I go begging for favors, is there anything I need to know?” He looks at the faces of each individual player. None of them answer. “Anyone? Because, so help me God, if I get blindsided with some new scandal, it won’t end well for the guy.”