365 days with the hockey captain

Ava's pov “Oh s**t…yes.” A low, pathetic moan slipped out of me as I leaned back against the flimsy bathroom stall door, one hand braced on the wall, the other buried between my thighs as my fingers crawled into my p***y. God, yes. The picture on my phone glowed bright. Ryder Kingsley in his full hockey gear, sweaty, intense, jaw clenched like he was about to destroy someone on the ice. Or me—I wish. The loud speaker from the opening night hockey season party thumped through the walls like it was personally trying to vibrate me to orgasm. Testosterone soaked the entire building—hot guys flexing, hotter girls pretending they weren’t impressed, and enough hockey jerseys to make a girl question her life choices. Everyone out there was probably already grinding on each other like it was the last chance they had to do so. The least I could do was give myself a proper send-off before another soul-crushing shift. I pushed my fingers deeper, circling faster, eyes locked on Ryder’s stupidly perfect face. “Just like that, Captain. Harder—” It had been way too f*****g long. I hadn’t had real s*x since…well, since that asshole Kyrian cheated on me and decided the best way to celebrate was by releasing a video of him f*****g me to the entire school. I had to transfer schools because of that jerk. Packed up my entire life just to escape the whispers, the stares, and the endless forwarded screenshots. Now here I was—two years later—reduced to desperately fingering myself in a gross bar bathroom to a picture of a guy I had zero chance with. Peak romance. “Ava!” My boss’s voice cut through the music like a chainsaw. “Where the f**k is Ava? We’re really shorthanded tonight!” I didn’t stop. I was right there, teetering on the edge, legs shaking. “She’s probably in the toilet,” Lucy’s voice answered cheerfully. “I’ll go get her.” Shit. Not now Lucy. The footsteps were getting closer. I bit my lip hard, chasing the release. Just a few more seconds. “Come on, come on—” The door flew open. I yanked my hand out so fast I nearly dislocated my wrist and spun toward the sink, turning the faucet on full blast like I was performing emergency surgery on my hands. Lucy stood there, arms crossed, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Really, Ava?” I gave her my best poker face, scrubbing my hands like I was trying to remove fingerprints from a crime scene. “What? You missed me that much?” She smirked, eyes flicking down to my flushed cheeks and messy hair. “Get your horny ass out there. We’re short-handed tonight and—” She paused dramatically, grin widening. “Guess what?” “What?” I asked, drying my hands way too aggressively. “Your crush just walked in looking all hot and sexy. Like, illegally hot.” We both squealed like idiots, jumping up and down in the tiny bathroom like we were twelve again. Ryder Kingsley. Here. In the flesh. “Okay, okay, we’ve really got to go now,” Lucy said, still laughing as she grabbed my arm and dragged me out. We stepped back into the chaos, music pulsing, lights flashing, hair dramatically flung over our shoulders like we were the main characters in our own movie. I scanned the crowd and—there he was. Ryder. Tall, broad-shouldered, radiating that effortless captain energy. His eyes met mine for half a second. He winked. My brain short-circuited. My foot caught on absolutely nothing, and suddenly the floor was rushing up to greet me. Fuck my life. For one mortifying moment, the music seemed to cut out. Every head in the vicinity turned. The great—well not so great—Ava Morgan, face-planting in public. Again. Lucy hauled me up with impressive strength for someone half my size. “What the f**k, Ava?” she hissed as we scrambled behind the bar. “Ryder looks at you and you suddenly forget how to walk?” “Gosh, he’s so hot,” I groaned, peeking over the counter like a lovesick raccoon. “Two glasses of champagne, please,” a deep voice said from the bar. I was still staring at Ryder, replaying that wink on loop. Did that actually happen or did I hallucinate it in my post-m**********n haze? A sharp tap on the counter. “Two glasses of champagne. Please.” I snapped back to reality and looked up. My stomach dropped straight through the floor. Kyrian Hayes stood there like he owned the place—same cocky smirk, same perfect jawline, same asshole energy that had ruined my life two years ago. He looked at me like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t f****d me, recorded it, and blasted it across campus for laughs. My hand shook as I reached for the glass. It slipped. Shattered. “s**t—” I bent down fast, but Lucy was already there. “I’ve got it,” she said, voice tight, staring in confusion at the distressed look on my face. I didn’t wait. I bolted out from behind the bar and shoved through the side door into the cooler night air. The sound of footsteps crunching dry leaves behind me followed. I spun around. Of course it was him. “I see you’re not over our little… ‘distraction’ after all this time,” Kyrian drawled, tasting the word like cheap wine. “What the f**k are you doing here, Kyrian?” Heat flooded my veins. My hands curled into fists. “Whoa, slow down.” He stepped closer, all fake concern and real menace. “I’m just here to play.” “Play what?” I snapped. “Hockey, dumbass.” He laughed like I was the funniest thing he’d seen all night. “I’m transferring here for the new season.” My mind spun, my hands pressed to my thigh to hide the obvious trembling. Shit. My greatest nightmare in a long time had just happened. He moved in closer, his finger traced down my throat, slow and possessive, sliding toward my chest. My body froze—old muscle memory, old fear, old everything. I hated how my breath hitched. I closed my eyes for half a second, hating myself more than him. “I see you’re not over me yet,” he murmured, smug as ever. I jerked back two steps. “What…what do you mean?” “Well, seeing as you’re still affected by my touch.” His smile sharpened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shot back, voice steadier than I felt. “I’ve got a boyfriend.” Kyrian barked out a laugh. “No s**t, Ava. We both know the only guy who was ever willing to spare a glance at your dork ass was me.” “You’re wrong. I’ve got a boyfriend.” “Who?” he thundered, stepping forward again. “R… Ryder.” The name tumbled out before I could stop it. “Ryder Kingsley.” I took a step back, ready to bolt. My eyes widened. Right behind Kyrian, standing close enough to have heard every single word, was Ryder Kingsley himself. Oh. f**k.