Shattered Ice

Making friends

*Caleb*

The sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon as I leave the rink, a sheen of sweat still clinging to my skin. Practice was brutal today, but in a way that felt good.

I can feel the rhythm returning to my game, the instincts sharpening. But as I step outside, the exhilaration of skating is quickly overshadowed by the familiar fear of loneliness, the tug of temptation lurking on the fringes of my mind.

“Hey, Mackinnon!” Connor, our first line center, and fellow canadian, calls out, his voice cutting through the crisp air.

I turn to see him and Quinn, a fellow canuck defenceman, leaning against Connor’s truck, grinning like they’ve just scored the game-winning goal. “You coming with us to the pub? We’re heading to the usual spot. Need to celebrate the end of a solid practice.”

I hesitate, the temptation of camaraderie battling with the sensible voice in my head. I shouldn’t go. Not tonight. But this is part of the job, part of fitting in with the team. I can’t be the lone wolf anymore; I need to show them I can be a team player and still responsible. “Sure, why not?” I reply, forcing a grin. “I’ll join you.”

The ride to the hot spot is filled with laughter and playful banter, the kind that makes me feel light-hearted after a long week. I can’t shake the feeling, though, that I’m still walking a tightrope. I’m determined to prove to my teammates that I am one of then, and myself that I can handle this.

As we pull up, the neon lights of the bar flicker invitingly. The atmosphere is electric, filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. I can see a few familiar faces from the club's lower league team milling about, and I feel a rush of excitement mixed with anxiety.

We step inside, and it’s like stepping into another world. The music pulsates through the air, and the scent of fried food mingles with the faint aroma of beer. I lose myself for a moment, enjoying the energy of the place. It feels good to be here, to share a laugh with my teammates.

“Let’s grab a table,” Quinn says, and we make our way to a booth in the corner. I slide in, and the banter flows as easily as the drinks. However I am sticking to a beer, no strong stuff.

I let myself relax, the weight of my responsibilities momentarily lifted. We’re joking about last week’s practise game, and I can feel the tension in my chest loosening, the laughter of my teammates wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

But then, like clockwork, the puck bunnies start to arrive. It’s a spectacle I’ve seen countless times, and I can’t deny the surge of attention it brings. A couple of girls approach our table, their eyes sparkling with interest. One in particular, with long, wavy hair and a confident stride, leans against the edge of the booth, her gaze fixed on me.

“Hey, superstar,” she purrs, her voice dripping with flirtation. “How about you let us buy you a drink? I promise we’ll make it worth your while.”

I glance at my teammates, who are watching with amused expressions. I can feel the pressure building, and I remind myself of my promise to Virginia. “Thanks, but I’m good,” I say, trying to keep my tone polite. “I’m just here to hang with the guys tonight.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my rejection. “Oh, come on! Don’t be a buzzkill. You’re not going to let a little fun pass you by, are you?”

I can feel my heart racing, the noise of the bar fading into a dull hum. This isn’t what I want. I’m trying to be better, to steer clear of distractions that could pull me back into chaos. “Seriously, I appreciate it, but I’m really just here to chill. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Her smile falters for a moment, but then she leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know how to have a good time, don’t you? Just think about it. You could have a lot more fun with us.”

I can feel my teammates shifting in their seats, leaning in to see how I’ll handle this. I take a deep breath, keeping my demeanor steady. “I’m really not interested. I’m just trying to keep things simple right now.”

The girl’s expression hardens, and I can see the shift in her body language. “Suit yourself,” she snaps, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she walks away, her friend trailing behind her.

I exhale slowly, the tension releasing from my shoulders. I get off me seat, “I need the little boys room.”

“Actually, I do too,” Quinn gets up too.

We make our way to the bathroom, but as we reach the door, that same puck bunnies seems to appear out of thin air, smiling at me in a flirtatious way, “How about I join you, handsome?”

Quinn looks at me and I sigh, shaking my head slightly, “As I said before, thanks, but no thanks.”

Without warning she grabs my d**k through my pants, rubbing it and saying with a purr; “come on, we all know you are always up for a party.”

Beside me Quinn lets out a gasp, he is still young and I do not think he has seen the worst of these women yet.

“Please let go,” I grab her wrist, squeezing it slightly, not enough to really hurt her, just enough to make her let go of me. “This is not a free for all buffet. Don't touch me.”

She hugs and steps back, letting me go, so I do the same to her wrist. She then look at Quinn. “How about you then.”

“Yeah, how about no,” he looks like he smelled something bad. “I am not desperate.”

“You guys are boring… I’ll go find someone fun.” She huffs and turn.

“Can I suggest finding some self respect instead?” Quinn calls after her.

After using the bathroom, we return to the table and Quinn tells Connor what happened.

“Nice one, Mackinnon!” Connor laughs, clapping me on the back. “You’ve got some serious willpower, man.”

“Yeah, well,” I reply, a smirk creeping onto my face, “I’ve got bigger things to focus on than a too easy puck bunny. Like the charity Beach volley turnament, you guys are in, right?”

Quinn raises his glass, a glint of respect in his eyes. “Here’s to that! And to our future superstar beach volleyball team!”

I laugh and raise my glass, the camaraderie feeling good, natural. The night rolls on, filled with laughter and stories, and I can’t help but feel grateful. I’m making progress, one step at a time.

And I am home in bed, not drunk and not having messed up at an appropriate time.