Chapter 3 : Whiskey and Rage
Ethan’s POV
I should’ve gone home.
Gone home. Sleep. Pretend I hadn’t just kissed Damien Cross in a locker room full of witnesses and recording phones like some kind of deranged fanfiction mistake.
That would’ve been the responsible choice.
But responsibility and I have never been close friends.
Damien lingered in my thoughts, flashing through my mind every second like a beautiful curse.
So instead, I ended up in the one place where nobody asked questions and everyone minded their own business.
The Hollow Ice Bar.
A hockey hangout disguised as a nightclub. Neon blue lights. Loud bass. Cheap alcohol pretending to be expensive. The kind of place where athletes went to ruin their reputations in peace.
Perfect.
I pushed through the doors and immediately felt the alcohol-scented heat hit my face.
Music thumped through the floor.
People turned.
Of course they did.
I was still in my training jacket, hair damp from sweat, jaw bruised from Damien’s fist, and probably trending on every sports platform in existence.
A bartender glanced up and froze.
“Ryder?”
“Whiskey,” I said flatly, sliding onto a stool.
No greeting.
No smile.
No patience.
Just burn it all down.
The bartender hesitated. “Uh… double?”
“Make it a triple.”
He didn’t argue after that.
Good.
I needed something strong enough to erase memory. Or at least blur it around the edges until Damien Cross stopped existing in my brain.
Which, unfortunately, seemed biologically impossible at this point.
I exhaled sharply and dropped my head back slightly.
The bar was loud, but my thoughts were louder.
That kiss—
No.
Don’t think about it.
I grabbed the glass the bartender slid toward me and downed it in one go.
Burning liquid hit my throat instantly.
Perfect.
I signaled for another.
The bartender frowned slightly. “Rough night?”
“You have no idea.”
Behind me, someone shouted my name.
I ignored it.
Another glass arrived.
I drank it too fast again.
My body was still shaking with leftover adrenaline from the arena. My knuckles hurt. My jaw throbbed. But none of it compared to the stupid, unbearable awareness of Damien Cross’s face burned into my memory.
The way he looked when I kissed him.
Shock.
Stillness.
Something else I refused to name.
I slammed the glass down harder than necessary.
“Ryder?”
I stiffened slightly.
No.
Not him.
I turned slowly.
Noah was standing at the edge of the bar looking like he regretted every life decision that led him here.
“You followed me?” I asked flatly.
“I knew exactly where you’d go.”
“Creepy.”
“Predictable,” he corrected.
I scoffed and turned back to the bar.
“Go away.”
Noah didn’t move.
Instead, he sighed and slid into the seat beside me.
“You’re trending worldwide,” he said.
“Congratulations.”
“Ethan.”
“I said go away.”
“You kissed Damien Cross in front of twenty people and a camera crew. I don’t think ‘going away’ is an option anymore.”
I tightened my grip around the glass.
So it was already everywhere.
Of course it was.
I should’ve expected it.
Nothing stays private in professional hockey anymore. Especially not something as insane as that.
I downed another drink.
Noah watched me carefully.
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m drinking.”
“That’s spiraling.”
“That’s coping.”
Noah exhaled sharply. “You’re going to get suspended if you keep this up.”
“Let them try.”
He leaned closer. “Ethan, what happened in that locker room?”
My jaw tightened.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“Drop it.”
Noah studied me for a long moment.
Then he said the one thing I didn’t want to hear.
“Did you mean it?”
I froze.
The glass stopped halfway to my mouth.
The bar suddenly felt too loud again.
Too bright.
Too everything.
“Mean what?” I asked slowly.
Noah didn’t blink.
“The kiss.”
A pulse hammered in my skull.
My grip tightened.
“Of course not,” I said immediately.
Too fast.
Too defensive.
Even I heard it.
Noah noticed too.
His expression shifted slightly.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
But my voice cracked just enough to betray me.
Damn it.
I downed the drink and immediately waved for another.
Noah leaned back in his chair.
“Ethan…”
“Stop saying my name like I’m about to confess to murder.”
“Honestly? That might be easier than whatever this is.”
I laughed sharply.
But it wasn’t funny.
Not even close.
Because I didn’t know what “this” was.
All I knew was Damien’s face when I kissed him wasn’t angry.
It wasn’t disgusted.
It wasn’t even surprised in the way I expected.
It was—
My thoughts stopped.
No.
Don’t go there.
Another drink arrived.
I grabbed it instantly.
Noah watched me carefully as I drank.
“Have you talked to him since?” he asked.
I paused.
“…He came after me in the garage.”
Noah blinked. “And?”
“And he asked why I did it.”
Silence.
Noah looked like he was trying very hard not to scream.
“And what did you say?”
“I told him I didn’t know.”
“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said tonight.”
I shot him a glare.
“Don’t get philosophical with me right now.”
“I’m serious, Ethan.”
“So am I.”
But I wasn’t.
Not really.
Because honesty would require me to admit the truth sitting somewhere deep in my chest—
I hadn’t been thinking at all when I kissed Damien.
It had just… happened.
Like instinct.
Like something inside me snapped and decided Damien Cross was suddenly too close, too infuriating, too.
Too everything.
I exhaled sharply and rubbed my face.
“This is stupid,” I muttered.
Noah nodded. “Yes. It is.”
“I hate him.”
“I know.”
“I’ve hated him for seven years.”
“I’m aware.”
“So why—” I stopped abruptly.
My throat tightened.
Noah didn’t interrupt.
The silence between us stretched.
I swallowed hard.
“Why did it feel like that?”
The words came out quieter than I expected.
Noah’s expression softened slightly.
“Oh.”
I shook my head immediately.
“No. Don’t ‘oh’ me. I don’t need therapy from you.”
“I wasn’t going to give you therapy.”
“Good.”
“I was going to say you’re screwed.”
I groaned and dropped my head onto the bar.
Perfect.
Exactly what I needed.
I signaled for another drink.
Noah slapped my hand lightly.
“Enough.”
“Don’t start.”
“You’re already halfway into a blackout.”
“I’m pacing myself.”
“You’re not pacing anything.”
I sat up slowly.
“You’re not my coach.”
“No,” Noah agreed. “But I am your friend, and you’re acting like an idiot.”
I glared at him.
He didn’t flinch.
That was annoying.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
Damien’s face flashed in my mind again.
This time I didn’t push it away fast enough.
The kiss.
The shock.
The way he didn’t immediately shove me off.
My stomach twisted.
“What if I made a mistake?” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Noah leaned forward slightly.
“What kind of mistake?”
I hesitated.
Then sighed.
“…The kind that doesn’t go away.”
Noah didn’t respond immediately.
For once, he looked like he was choosing his words carefully.
“That wasn’t just adrenaline,” he said finally.
I closed my eyes.
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“I said don’t.”
Noah ignored me anyway.
“You don’t kiss someone you genuinely hate like that unless something else is going on.”
My chest tightened.
“Shut up.”
“You’re not listening.”
“I am listening. I just don’t like what you’re saying.”
“That’s usually how truth works.”
I grabbed my drink again.
Empty.
I didn’t remember finishing it.
Great.
I signaled again.
Noah sighed heavily.
“You’re not going to drink your way out of this.”
“I’ve solved worse problems that way.”
“Name one.”
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
Damn it.
He had a point.
The bartender placed another glass in front of me.
I didn’t touch it.
My hands felt unsteady suddenly.
Not from alcohol.
From something else.
Something worse.
Noah’s voice softened slightly.
“Ethan… what are you scared of right now?”
I let out a low, humorless laugh.
“Damien Cross.”
“No.”
I glanced at him.
Noah was watching me too closely now.
“You’re not scared of him,” he said. “You’re scared of what that moment meant.”
My throat went dry.
I looked away.
Because if I didn’t.
I might admit something I wasn’t ready to understand.
Across the bar, the TV screens suddenly flickered to breaking news.
I didn’t look at it at first.
Then I heard my name.
And Damien’s.
My head snapped up.
The screen showed a replay.
Locker room footage.
Us.
The kiss.
The entire bar went silent for a split second.
Then chaos erupted.
My stomach dropped violently.
Noah muttered, “Oh no.”
I stared at the screen like it was going to erase itself if I blinked hard enough.
But it didn’t.
It just kept playing.
Again.
And again.
Damien Cross and Ethan Ryder.
Enemies.
Captains.
Rivals.
And now
Whatever the hell that was.
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket.
Once.
Twice.
Then nonstop.
I didn’t need to check it.
I already knew.
Everything had just changed.
