Page 89 of Pucking Them
I can’t let the other players see me like this. I’d fuck up any chance of us winning the next game if they discover me spiraling like this in the locker room.
Shay mustn’t see me out of control like this.
He needs me to stay strong.
I clench my jaw, stumbling around the mat in the middle of floor with the team logo printed on it, dragging off my tie with jerky motions.
I’m too hot.
I must cool down and pull myself out of this.
…Hiding behind drink, partying, and BDSM…
“Shut the fuck up.” I hurl down my tie onto a padded stall.
Then I shrug off my jacket and kick off my shoes.
Suddenly, I’m desperate not to be wearing clothes. Is this how Shay feels? My skin is too sensitive, as if my nerves are raw and exposed. I can’t bear to have anything touching them.
I rip off my shirt, busting the buttons.
I don’t care.
Frantically, I undo my belt, scrabbling out of my trousers and underwear.
Panting, I stare at the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor.
I’ve made another mess.
I’m going to be punished.
Panicking, I snatch up my clothes and start to fold them with shaking hands.
I fold them once.
Not neat enough.
“That’s one day in solitary, D’Angelo,” I mutter to myself.
Sweat drips down my naked back.
I fight to steady my hands, all my focus on the task, as I refold the clothes. The shirt is skewed. Frustrated, I hiss out a breath.
“Stupid,” I mutter. “I haven’t done the arms right. That’s a cold shower.”
I automatically refold the clothes for a third time. Then I march through the archway that leads to the showers.
I push through into a small shower stall.
My mind is hazy. I’m lost and overwhelmed.
I slump against the cold wall, hiding my face on my forearm.
If I can’t see, then maybe, I can disappear.
I wished that so many times when I was locked in the Discipline School.
Normally, I use these times spent in the showers with Shay as a reward for him, as motivation on the ice, or just a way for us to have fun.
