I hate hockey players. 

Why, you may ask?

The answer’s simple. They’re just a bunch of assholes with an extra testosterone shot, and what happens when they deem you don’t have that shot? You get teased and bullied to the point that you come home and cry about it to your little sister. 

That’s exactly what happened to my twin brother. He’s a hockey player who had the courage to come out to his entire team because he considered them family, but instead of supporting him and accepting him for who he is, they laughed in his face and called him a faggot. Then he came running home in a fit of tears, and being the good and tough little sister, I decided to go to those assholes and give them a piece of my mind. However, what I didn’t expect was how huge they all are. 

Like seriously. All of them, even the smallest one, who’s my brother, is well over six feet, making me look like a tiny bug which they can crush under their big toe. That doesn’t discourage me, though, at least not completely. 

I’ve been told I have a big mouth and good at putting people in their place. I’m hoping I can bring their ego down a level before they decide they want to fight me. 

Flynn doesn’t know that I’m here at the university and about to bring down hell upon his teammates. If he’d known, he never would’ve let me show up, nevermind go out the front door. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until I have my say.

“Who’s Carson here?” I yell out in the middle of practice, leaning over the railing to the ice. My voice is loud, and it has the players stopping on the ice and all looking my way. 

Oh wow, having all these huge men staring me down is a little bit scary, I’ll admit. I’m not backing down, though. 

“I asked who Carson is!” I yell out again, puffing out my chest in an attempt to look tough. 

“That’s me,” a male voice says, appearing before me on the ice. It takes everything in me not to flinch in surprise. “And how may I help you, pretty lady?”

I stare at him, unimpressed. Is he seriously flirting with me right now? After he called my brother the f-word and humiliated him in front of the entire team? Oh, right. He doesn’t know whose sister I am. 

“Do you know who I am?” I question, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“No, but I’d like to,” he says with a smirk. I internally recoil. He’s really not as smooth as he thinks he is. 

“I’m Archer Boston,” I tell him, staring pointedly at him. He should know who I am now. But instead of realisation going through his eyes, he looks confused. So I add, “Archer Boston. Boston.”

He shakes his head, staring incredulously at me. 

Then suddenly, his eyes darken, and he practically spits out, “Why the hell are you wearing that faggot’s jersey?”

Oh, that’s right. I decided to put on Flynn’s hockey jersey before coming here. Thought it would give me an edge…of some sort. However, hearing him use that discriminative word for my brother again has anger boiling within me. 

“Don’t call him that,” I say. 

“Oh, is he your boyfriend?” He suddenly laughs, staring pitifully at me. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but the bitch is gay.” 

A growl comes out from deep within my throat, visibly startling him. Yep, a sound like that shouldn’t come out of a girl’s throat. 

“Don’t call him that,” I say in warning.

“What? A bitch?” He laughs. “But that’s what he is.” Then he leans forward to me. “My bitch.”

I barely have time to grasp what’s happening before my hands are in Carson’s hair, and I’m pulling, causing him to cry out in pain. 

“You asshole!” I yell out, no doubt catching everyone’s attention. “What? He’s your bitch? So what if he’s gay? What does that have to do with you?”

“Hey! Let go!” he yells out, but I’m not done. 

“Not until you apologize,” I tell him. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” He helplessly apologizes, but I just pull harder on his hair. 

“Not to me, you moron,” I say. “To Flynn.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” he asks. 

“Because I said so.” I hiss like a feline. 

“You’re crazy,” he protests. So he was willing to apologize to me, but suddenly not to Flynn?

“You ass—”

A firm hand wraps around my wrist, halting my actions. 

“That’s enough,” a deep and manly voice speaks out. I turn my head with a glare, but the words die in my throat when my eyes meet the source. 

Damn, he’s beautiful. 

With that shaggy light brown hair, hazel eyes that have more green than brown, and the freckles that scatter across his nose and cheeks. 

I can’t help but examine him head to toe. He’s much bigger and taller than me, with bulging muscles underneath his hockey gear, and his skin is perfectly bronze, like a natural tan. His lips are shaped like a heart, the top one slightly fuller than the bottom, and so pink and plump that I’m sure every girl and guy wants to sink their teeth into it, and his nose, which is slightly crooked, the only flaw on a seemingly flawless face. 

All I can think as I stare at him is wow. 

Just, wow. 

And he’s staring right back at me, his head slightly tilted as curiosity swirls in those eyes of his. 

What’s he thinking as he’s looking at me right now? Does he think I’m pretty, attractive, or just average? And does me wearing another man, despite being gay’s jersey bother him?

No, you stupid. Why would it bother him? He doesn’t even know you. 

“Everett,” Carson suddenly gasps out, breaking the moment. “Get her off me.”