Desired by my Hockey Stepbrother

KAYLA'S POV.

“You call that a herkie, Sarah? My grandma could do it better, and she’s been dead for three years!”

Everyone was shocked by Taylor's voice. Honestly, had being negative been a sport, she would be the champion. Sarah stood there with her face all scrunched and barely keeping it together.

“Chill out, Taylor,” I said, intervening since part of being captain is also part-emotional support person to the squad. “Sarah, never mind. You are shaping up all right, promise. Just make sure that your back leg is straight, okay?”

Taylor swung her blonde ponytail as though she was about to knock me out with it. “I am sorry, Kayla. I did not think we were here just to give out participation trophies and group hugs.”

The gym was like somebody struck the mute button. The only thing you could hear was sneakers squeaking over the polished wood floor. And this was about how it went most days of the week that we had any rehearsal, Taylor running her big mouth, me trying to make everybody stay until the end because of her and the rest of the girls pretty much wishing they were somewhere else other than here.

“Our standards are fine,” I shot back. My hands were clenched so tight I nearly cracked a fake nail. “We’re defending national champs, remember? And besides, we're not practicing for a competition, it's just the halftime show for the hockey championship tomorrow.”

Taylor rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. “Championships don’t just fall into your lap. We have to represent who we are anytime we perform.”

God, she was good. She always knew how to dig at the weak spots. She knew I couldn’t play the villain, that I’d rather hug it out than rip someone apart, even if sometimes I wondered if she was right. But honestly, Taylor was the least of my problems.

“Five-minute water break,” I said. “Then we’re running the routine top to bottom.”

Everyone scattered and most stretched out on the floor. I walked to a corner and looked at myself in the mirror; hair still in that cheer-perfect ponytail, not a speck of mascara smudged and my perfect cheerleader body in my tracksuit. I looked exactly like the girl everyone expected me to be.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Yeah, right. If they only knew.

“Kayla?” Sarah called out while walking to me. “Thanks for, uh… you know… standing up for me.”

I gave her my best captain’s smile, the one I’d practiced for years. “That’s what I’m here for. Don’t let Taylor get in your head. She’s just stressed out over the routine.”

She nodded, but I saw the doubt in her eyes. Truth is, sometimes I wondered if Taylor was right. Maybe I was too soft and I should stop worrying about everyone’s feelings. But every time I tried to be the tough captain, all I could see was my mom in that hospital bed battling failed kidneys. And I just couldn’t be that person who made someone else feel small when I knew how much that sucked.

My phone buzzed. I looked at it and it was a text from Chris: ‘Happy Birthday babe! Can’t wait for the surprise you have for me tonight. Picking you up at 7. XOXO’

I stared at the screen with mixed feelings. Chris Martinez, poster boy for college hockey and my boyfriend for eight months. He was the kind of guy who makes your social media blow up every time he tags you in a photo. He was hot, popular, and everyone acted like we were the campus power couple. Honestly, I should’ve been happy, right? But he had been acting up a bit lately because I refused to have sex with him.

I put the phone down and let out a sigh. All I could think about was my mom. Her medical bills were piling up and she had no health insurance. And meanwhile my abusive stepdad was busy blowing all the money I brought home on booze and gambling.

“Are we practicing or what? Some of us want to be perfect tomorrow!”

I drew in a breath and straightened. “Alright, squad! Back on the floor! I need energy, guys! We are not any team, we are UCLA. How about letting them see why?”

And then, an hour later, everything else just seemed to dissolve. Only the thump of the bass, the slap of sneakers and the snap of my own voice calling counts. Out here, I would not be concerned about my mom's medications or whether or not Chris had been acting up as of late, or whether I was too soft or too much. Out there I was only Kayla Thompson, captain, running the show. During that practice time, I was me.

"Better!" As we completed the routine I yelled out. “That herkie was a beauty, Sarah. Emma, mind your spacing in the pyramid. Taylor..." I hesitated because I had to say something good. “Your tumbling was perfect."

Taylor even smiled, and briefly, I managed to recall that we were friends before. This is the way things should have been before she was jealous and started competing with me and everything turned out so complicated.

"Thanks, K," she said, using my old nickname.

"The bus to USC leaves at noon tomorrow for the championship game. Do not be late!" I reminded the girls of the game we would be cheering at the next day.

As the girls packed up their gear, I dragged my feet, not ready to face the real world yet.

Maya waited for me by the door. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're about to fall over."

"Just tired," I lied. "Long day."

"Kayla." She grabbed my arm gently. "You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever's going on, we can figure it out together."

I looked at my best friend, with her Med school textbooks clutched against her chest. Maya had her own problems; student loans, impossible course loads and a family that expected her to be perfect. I couldn't dump my mess on her too.

"I know," I said. "But really, I'm fine. Just need to see Chris and then get some sleep before the game tomorrow."

Maya didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Okay. I guess you're not working at the club tonight then."

“Naaa…I took the day off. It's my birthday by the way, and I want to spend the evening with Chris.”

“Ohhhh really!!” She squealed with excitement. “You're finally gonna have sex with him?”

“Twenty-one is a really old age for a virgin don't you think? It's time I give it up, and Chris is the one.”

“It's about damn time girl!” I will definitely not be waiting up for you tonight.” She said and I blushed a little.

“Happy 21st birthday bestie!” She yelled as we parted ways.

Although Chris had told me that he would pick me up, I decided to surprise him by going to his dorm instead. I was scared to death because I was going to lose my most valued asset, my virginity. But I had made up my mind.

Arriving at his apartment building, I breathed out and looked in the glass doors. A nice smile, a nice posture, a perfect girlfriend. No one would ever suspect that I was drowning.

I walked up the stairs to his floor with my heavy cheerleading bag on my shoulder. The corridor was silent, with the majority of students being out at dinner or caught in their rooms studying. I reached his door and was about to knock, but then I heard some people inside talking.

Giggles...the giggles of a girl.

My heart missed a beat and I put my ear to the door and told myself that I was paranoid. Chris had female friends. It was nothing.

but then I heard her voice very well, "Chris, you are awful! What will happen when Kayla finds out?"

And he answered, "She will not. Believe me, she is too occupied with practising to be a good little captain, to pay attention to what is actually happening."

The world had turned upside-down. The flawless composure that I had strived to preserve fell apart in front of my eyes at that moment, as I understood that I was not the only one who pretended to be something I was not.

I was rooted in that hallway, still about to knock when I wondered whether I was ready to know what really was happening behind the door.

RYAN'S POV

“So, Mr. Mitchell, why do you think you will be the right person to fill in our junior coach position?”

I settled back, in the leather chair, with a super-confident grin at Coach Williams. The athletics office was quite grand for a high school. There were trophies along the wall and banners of championships on the ceiling.

“Well, Coach, I believe my record speaks pretty hard on its own," I replied, motioning to my resume on his desk. “Three-year leading scorer, team captain, and we are about to win our fourth championship in five years tomorrow. I understand what is required to be a winner."

Coach Williams nodded and noted something on his notepad. “Your game stats are very impressive. However, there is a difference between coaching and playing. What would you do with those players that do not react well to your style of leadership?”

I almost gigled. “Respectfully, Coach, I never saw a player who did not answer to winning. They follow you when you show them how to be successful. It is just that easy."

“And what if they do not?”

“Well then they are not good enough to carry the championship title,” I countered. “I know about the weaknesses of this team you see, I have been observing them all season. They have soft defense, their power play is foreseeable and their captain, Martinez, he is more about looking good rather than playing good. With one summer, I can fix that team."

Coach Williams raised an eyebrow. “Relatively big opinion of a team you have never coached, much less met face to face.”

“I am a person who has spent twelve years of my life playing ice hockey.” I leant forward and became serious. “Coach, I did not come to make friends or hold hands. I am here to win. And that is what I do. That is what I have always done."

The elder gentleman looked at me for a long time, and shut his folder. “Well, Mr. Mitchell, I will tell you the truth, your pride will become your greatest asset or biggest downfall. But we cannot deny your success. We will contact you by Monday."

“Very well, sir." I rose and shook him heartily. “I am excited to work with you.”

Walking out of the office of the man, I was unable to hold back the grin on my face. This interview had been as successful as it should be. Next week, by this time, I would be conducting summer training and getting this hockey team into shape. It was just the right stepping block toward my coaching career.

My phone buzzed with a text from my teammate Jake; ‘Dude, where are you? We're supposed to be scouting UCLA's practice in twenty minutes.’

Shit. I'd completely forgotten about that. Not that we really needed to though, we'd beaten UCLA three years running.

I drove to the campus and made my way to the hockey arena. Everything was falling into place perfectly. I have one more year before I graduate and this summer coaching job will begin building my reputation as the guy who could turn any team into champions.

Waiting outside the arena were Jake, and our teammates, Marcus and Tony. “Well, there you are, Jake said. You ready to see these losers make fools out of themselves?”

“Always,” I answered, as my eyes were already on the rink ahead. I could observe the UCLA team practicing through the glass. They actually appeared to be organized and focused.

“Is that their new captain?” I inquired, indicating a player who was actually controlling the traffic in the offensive zone.

“Yeah, Chris Martinez,” said Tony. “Transfered last year from Boston College. Some hotshot he is supposed to be.”

I watched Martinez for a few minutes, analyzing his play. He was definitely skilled and had a natural leadership presence. But he played like he was putting on a show rather than trying to win.

"He's flashy," I said finally. "But he doesn't have the killer instinct. Look at how he celebrates after every decent play. He's more interested in the highlight reel than the scoreboard."

"Think we can exploit that?" Jake asked.

"Definitely. Guys like him crumble under pressure. Get in his head early, and he'll start making mistakes. Come on, we've seen enough. Let's grab some food before heading back for the game tomorrow."

As we got to the parking lot, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Coach Williams. ‘Congratulations Mr. Mitchell! We reached a decision earlier and we have decided to give you the job. I look forward to working with you.’

“Yes! Guys, I got the job!” I yelled in excitement.

“Congratulations bro” Jake and the guys all said as they took turns giving me a handshake.

“We’ve definitely got to go celebrate this”, Jake chipped in and the guys whooped in support.

Before I could say anything, my phone rang.

Amber's name flashed on the screen and I became more excited. I couldn't wait to share my good news with her, my girlfriend of two years. The coaching interview had gone perfectly, and I was practically guaranteed the job. This was the kind of moment couples were supposed to celebrate together.

"Hey, babe," I said, unlocking my car. "You're not going to believe what just happened. I think I got the…"

But she didn't respond. Instead, I heard sounds that made my blood run cold. Heavy breathing, moaning, and then, clear as day, her voice but not speaking to me.

"Oh God, Adam! Right there... don't stop... fuck me harder!"

The phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the pavement. I stood there frozen, staring at it like it was a venomous snake. The sounds continued, unmistakably intimate, unmistakably my girlfriend with another man.

With Adam.

"Shit, shit, shit! Jake scrambled for the phone and immediately hung up the call.

My hands were shaking with rage and humiliation. She'd pocket-dialed me while she was fucking another guy. While I was celebrating getting the coaching job, planning our future together, she was in bed with one of my teammates.

I felt extreme irritation. My girlfriend of two years was... complicated. Beautiful, popular and everything I was supposed to want. But she was terribly unfaithful. This would not even be the third time she cheated on me, but the other times I just caught her kissing other guys.

“Ryan, are you alright?” Jake approached me with caution from behind. I wanted to punch something so hard.

"I need to be alone right now. I'll see you at the team meeting tomorrow."

Jake looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have warned him off. "Okay, man. But if you need anything..."

"I know," I said. "Thanks.”

“I'd like to be alone guys,” I replied after a few seconds of silence.

“You know where to find us if you need anything” Jake added as he rubbed my shoulder and they left.

I stood there for what seemed like eternity, Wonder how many times she had done it and how many other guys on the team she was sleeping with.

The phone started ringing again, Amber calling back. I stared at her name on the screen, my chest tight with a mixture of betrayal and fury. Part of me wanted to answer, to scream at her, to demand an explanation. But what explanation could there be? I'd heard everything I needed to hear.

I declined the call and immediately blocked her number.

She was not going to ruin my moment, I thought to myself.

"No." I got into my car and rolled down the window. “You won't ruin tonight for me Amber.”

I started the car and drove aimlessly, my mind racing. Two years. Two fucking years, and she'd thrown it away for Adam Chen. The jerk quarterback of the football team and the biggest male slut of the whole college.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I wanted to punch something, wanted to scream, wanted to drive over to Amber's place and tell her exactly what I thought of her and her cheating ass.

Instead, I ordered myself a drink at the strip club I found myself and tried to think rationally. Tomorrow was the championship game. I couldn't let this drama affect my performance. I had a team counting on me, scouts watching, and a perfect season to protect.

But after the game... after we won and proved once again that we were the best team in the competition... then I was going to deal with this betrayal. I was going to confront Amber and Adam and make sure they knew exactly what they'd done.

My phone buzzed with a text from Jake: ‘Team meeting at 7 tomorrow. Don't be late, captain.’

I typed back: ‘You don't need to remind me again. Ready to destroy these UCLA losers.*

As I sat alone at the bar, drink in hand, I realized that maybe this was exactly what I needed. Amber had shown her true colors and had revealed herself to be a snake. Fine. I was better off without her.

I was definitely going to need more than just a drink to forget about Amber. I was going to need a distraction. A big one. I called on the waiter, “How much for a private dance with one of the girls?”