The Stupid Bet.

TRISTAN

“Take five, Reeves. We need you back on the ice ASAP.”

Coach Morrison growled as I skated toward the bench, my lungs burning from the line I’d just played.

Taking off my helmet, I avoided looking at the scoreboard hanging above the rink.

Coach was barking instructions to someone beside me, but the deafening arena drowned him out. Most of the noises were coming from my school’s section.

I still didn’t understand how they had so much hope considering the pitiful scores on the board.

Grabbing my water bottle, I squirted some into my mouth.

But the second I lowered it, a shadow fell over me.

Oh for fucks sake.

“You know,” My worst nightmare drawled from the other side of the board. “There’s a way to make this more interesting.”

I ignored him.

Maybe if I pretended he wasn’t there, he’d finally crawl back into whatever rich-kid shithole he’d escaped from.

No such luck. He was just as persistent as he’d been in the earlier face-off.

“Seriously, let’s up the stakes.”

I stared straight ahead at my guys playing the second line, cringing at how badly they fucked a pass.

The red light soon went off, signaling a goal for the Lice Reapers.

3:0.

Fuck.

“Oooh, that’s not looking good for you, Reeves.” He mocked. And then added. “Are you seriously not gonna hear me out?”

Finally, I looked at Hunter Beaumont.

The arena lights reflected off his visor, obscuring his face, but I could hear the grin in his voice anyway.

Fuck. Okay, I’ll bite. If it meant getting rid of this asshole.

“What the fuck do you want, Beaumont?” I snarled.

“Let’s make a bet.”

I gritted my teeth so hard they fucking chattered from their roots. “No.”

“Aww, are you scared y’all are gonna lose? Again.”

That was a cheap shot and the asshole knew it.

Backed into this wall, I couldn’t do anything but bite the bait. “Fine.”

Again, I didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning.

After a dramatic pause, he said, “If you score just one goal before the game ends, I won’t tell the press you admitted that I’m better than you.”

I never fucking said that.

Hell, I’d rather eat my own shoes.

But knowing this asshole, if he did win, he could tell them exactly that. And my easily enraged teammates wouldn’t take it lightly.

“Whatever, Beaumont,” I finally said, hoping the dismissal in my tone would be enough to send him off. “Even a toddler plays better than you.”

“Says the hockey cuck who hasn’t won a single regionals in what…years?” He shot back, voice dripping with cynicism. “I used to think you were good competition, Reeves. Now it’s like playing with a loser. I almost feel bad for you.”

His words swept a rush of rage through me and my fists clenched, making me briefly contemplate introducing his ribs to them. But Coach will have my fucking ass if I got a penalty so tight in the game.

So I wrapped those fingers around my stick until my knuckles bleached white. “You know what? Fuck you, Beaumont! I’m winning today and rubbing your fucking nose on the ice after.”

“And that’s the spirit!” He let out a loud cheer like a mad man, giving me a mocking salute. “It's a deal then, Reeves. You better win.”

He tried to skate off, but I shot to my feet and called after him.

“Yes?” he said over his shoulder.

“What do you get if you win the bet?” I forced myself to ask. Since I was already in it, I’d better know what I was up against.

Skating around in a perfect arc, Beaumont removed his helmet and grinned at me, flashing his perfect set of white teeth. “Later, Reeves.”

And then he was gone.

FUCKING ASSHOLE.

Ten minutes later, the Lice Reapers scored two more goals.

And we lost.

Bitterness spread through my chest as I recalled Hunter’s teammates flooding the rink, and lifting him onto their shoulders.

Three years.

Three fucking years.

Every state tournament since I’d become captain, I lost. And every damn time, Hunter Beaumont ended up holding the trophy.

God it was humiliating.

And even more humiliating was the stupid handshake we need to give them as a display of good sportsmanship.

I stood in line with the rest of my team, shaking the hands of the assholes we just lost to and echoing bullshit we clearly didn’t feel. “Good game.”

Props to my teammates for keeping their rage in check.

However, when the man of the hour appeared before me, I lost the control my teammates had been holding.

It wasn’t really my fault though.

Removing my hockey gear in the locker room, my teeth clenched as I recalled his words when he’d grabbed my hand earlier.

“You lost, Beaumont.” He smirked. “Wanna know my reward for the bet?”

I didn't, so I said nothing.

But Beaumont had never really been the guy to take a fucking hint.

He leaned in and breathed into my ears. “A little birdie told me you like cock.”

All the blood pounding through my veins turned to ice and I froze. “What?”

His grin only widened as his gaze dropped to my mouth. “Lucky me. I want you to suck mine.”

For a moment, I just stared at him.

My pulse roared in my ears as all the rage, fear and bitterness inside me crashed together in a white-hot flash of violence.

As if I wasn’t controlling my body, my fist shot into the air and slammed right into his face.

Beaumont staggered backward with a curse and the trophy slipped from his hands, clattering onto the ice. “What the fuck?

The memory of the blood running down his probably broken nose filled me with a dark satisfaction.

“Reeves!” Coach’s stern voice snapped me out of my reverie.

I dropped my pad and straightened, meeting his eyes. “Sir.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” He roared, every muscle in his face drawn taut. “Not only did you play like a joey who just strapped on skates for the first time, you incited violence on my ice, after a game!”

My throat moved, but I kept my lips sealed.

Hell would have to freeze over before I told Coach I saw red because a rival captain asked me to suck his dick.

Besides, Coach wouldn't give a shit. He'd ask me why mere shittalking got under my skin. And that, I couldn't say.

When he was finally done swearing and cussing at everyone in the locker room, he stormed off, slamming the door shut behind him.

As captain, I should say something motivational to my teammate after that, but whatever was gonna leave my mouth was pure bullshit and we all knew it.

Coach was right. We played like fucking losers.

Leaving my jersey on, I ignored my best friend calling my name and stormed out of the locker room.

Cold evening air hit my face as I stepped into the parking lot.

I headed for my car but I hadn’t gone very far when my duffel bag was suddenly yanked from my shoulders.

“What the--”

I snapped my head around, the words dying on my lips as I saw none other than Hunter Beaumont.

He stood a few feet away, lazily swinging my bag from one hand.

Now that his helmet was off, I could clearly see his bright blue eyes and head of wild black curls.

His split lips still had faint blood from the punch I gave him earlier. And now they were curved in a smirk that made the dimple in his lower jaw wink at me.

I fucking itched to hit him again.

“Leaving so soon, Reeves?” He snickered. The bastard was fucking mocking me. His expression remained unbothered even as I took a few steps forward.

“I believe you’re forgetting something.”

“Yeah,” I spat, red filling my vision. “I should’ve knocked out a couple of your teeth.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t too bad.” He swept his tongue across his bottom lip as if confirming it and heat jolted to my gut.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I hissed. “The fuck do you want, Beaumont? Unlike you, other people have lives outside being daddy’s little trust fund bitch."

“Oh, someone’s bitter,” he snorted and then flashed those pearly whites at me—how the hell are they that straight and white anyway? Fucker probably had a private dentist who gave him veneers and shit.

His grating voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “And as for what I want—nothing really. It’s more about what YOU want."

“I want nothing from you.”

“I think you do.” He dragged his feet toward me, invading my space like the entitled asshole he was. “It starts with your lips…and ends with my dick."

A very colorful image of that exact scene flashed behind my lids and a panicked lump formed in my throat.

There was no fucking way he knew about me.

Besides, Hunter Beaumont was straight as a needle. This must just be a way for him to fuck with me.

Carter had always said Beaumont loved getting a rise out of me and fuck, I hated that I bit his bait tonight.

I opened my mouth but before I could speak, a familiar voice cut me off.

“Tris!”