The Hockey King's Price

“Fifty bucks says she doesn’t even notice your truck is gone this weekend.” The comment drifted through the cracked locker room door just as I reached the end of the hallway. I slowed automatically, the cardboard drink tray digging into my fingers as cold rainwater slid from the sleeves of my hoodie onto my wrists. Inside the tray sat two coffees. Mine was a plain cold brew. Liam’s was the ridiculous caramel macchiato he always ordered with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle. I almost smiled looking at it. I’d nearly texted him first. Practice done yet? But I wanted to surprise him instead. “Fifty?” another guy laughed from inside. “Man, you’re aiming low.” Then Liam spoke. “Trust me. Maisie’s easy to impress.” The hallway suddenly felt colder. A burst of laughter followed, loud enough to echo through the concrete corridor. I stopped beside the door, my grip tightening slowly around the tray as Liam kept talking. “I told you guys from the start,” he said casually. “You pretend to care about her little newspaper stories for two weeks, buy her coffee a couple times, and suddenly she thinks you’re in love with her.” More laughter. Not nervous laughter either. The cruel kind. The kind people use when they’re trying to impress each other. My stomach twisted painfully. “She actually fell for that?” somebody asked. “Completely,” Liam replied. Something slammed against metal inside the locker room. A locker door maybe. Hockey sticks clattered against the floor. Then Liam laughed again. “She told me she loved me last night.” The room exploded. A few guys shouted. Someone smacked a stick against a bench hard enough to make me flinch. Heat rushed into my face so fast it hurt, and suddenly all I could think about was last night—lying against Liam’s chest while he brushed my hair back from my face like I mattered to him. Like I was safe with him. My throat burned. “Best hundred bucks I’ve made all year,” Liam said. A hundred dollars. That was what three months of my life were worth. Not because he liked me. Not because he cared. A bet. I stared at the floor tiles while my heartbeat pounded unevenly against my ribs. The caramel drizzle inside Liam’s cup had started sliding down the plastic lid, sticky and slow. Don’t cry. Not here. Not where they could hear you. Inside the locker room, another player laughed under his breath. “So what now? You dumping her?” Liam hesitated this time. Not long. Just enough to sting. “I mean… probably,” he said. “She’s starting to get attached.” The embarrassment hit harder than the betrayal. That was the part that hurt most. Not the fact that he lied to me. Not even the bet. It was knowing everyone inside that room had been laughing at me while I walked around campus thinking I was somebody’s girlfriend. My chest tightened so hard it ached. Then something inside me went strangely calm. I stared at the coffee in my hand for another second before shoving the locker room door open. The heavy wood slammed against the wall with a sharp crack. Every sound inside died instantly. The smell hit me first—sweat, damp equipment, deodorant spray, sharpened steel. A dozen heads turned toward me at once. Liam sat near the center bench with one skate unlaced and his practice jersey hanging open at the throat. The confidence disappeared from his face the second he saw me standing there. For a moment, nobody moved. Liam stood first. “Maisie—” “Don’t.” My voice came out quieter than I expected, but the silence in the room made it carry anyway. A few players looked uncomfortable suddenly. Others watched with open curiosity, like this was just another form of entertainment. Liam rubbed the back of his neck and forced out a laugh. “Okay… this looks bad, but you heard, like, five seconds of a conversation.” “A hundred dollars?” His expression tightened. “It wasn’t serious.” “You said I was easy.” “Maisie, come on.” He lowered his voice slightly, glancing toward his teammates. “We were joking around.” The embarrassment on his face wasn’t because he hurt me. It was because he got caught. “You told them I loved you.” “That’s not what I meant.” “But you said it anyway.” Liam exhaled sharply, already irritated now. “Can we not do this here?” Something about that almost made me laugh. Three months of dates. Late-night phone calls. Him kissing my forehead like it meant something. Leaving stupid handwritten notes outside my dorm before exams. And somehow I was the one making things difficult. One of the players near the lockers snorted quietly, trying to hold back laughter. Liam shot him an annoyed look before turning back to me. “You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he said more carefully this time. “It was dumb locker room talk. That’s all.” I stared at him for a long second. Then I nodded slowly. “You know what?” I said softly. “Maybe you’re right.” Relief flashed across his face almost instantly. “Exactly.” He reached toward the tray in my hands. “Now give me my coffee before coach kills us for being late.” I stepped closer. Then I tilted the cup. The caramel macchiato poured directly over his skates. Liam shouted and jumped backward immediately. “What the hell?!” Coffee splashed across the floor and soaked through his white socks. Thick caramel dripped down the polished sides of his custom skates while the entire locker room erupted around us. A few guys cursed. Somebody barked out a shocked laugh. “My skates!” Liam grabbed at them in panic. “Are you insane?” I set the empty cup carefully on the bench beside him. “We’re done.” Liam looked up at me, stunned more by the humiliation than the breakup itself. His face turned red as several teammates stared openly now. Then his pride snapped into place. “Oh, seriously?” he scoffed loudly. “You’re acting crazy over a joke?” “A joke?” “You knew this wasn’t that serious.” The words landed like a slap. Not because I believed him. Because part of me suddenly wondered if he believed it himself. I tightened my grip around my untouched cold brew. “You made a bet on sleeping with me.” Liam rolled his eyes, defensive now that everyone was watching. “Nobody forced you into anything, Maisie.” Several players looked away at that. Even they knew he crossed a line. For the first time since opening the door, my eyes started burning again. I pressed my lips together before the emotion could show on my face. Liam saw it too. And instead of apologizing, he doubled down. “You’ll move on,” he muttered. “Everybody does.” The room stayed painfully quiet. I looked at him one final time before turning toward the door. Behind me, nobody laughed now. Not really. I could feel the shift in the room as I walked out into the hallway again, shoulders stiff, heartbeat shaking hard enough to make my chest hurt. Then Liam’s voice followed after me anyway. “Maisie—” I didn’t stop walking. The locker room door slammed shut behind me a second later, cutting off whatever he said next. But the humiliation followed me down the hallway anyway.