My Hockey Alpha

Nina

As I looked down at the rotten, smelly mess of tomato guts on the front of my white shirt, the people around me began to laugh hysterically.

“Werewolf-fucker!” the girl who threw the tomato shouted, laughing maniacally.

“You’re protecting a monster!” another guy yelled.

The crowd erupted into a mixture of mocking and angry chatter, and all I felt was Enzo’s arm wrap around me. He began to usher me toward the hockey arena, shielding me from a barrage of other items being thrown. I had never expected it to get out of hand like this.

We rushed toward the arena. Enzo flung the door open and helped me in, shutting it firmly behind us. I could still hear the muffled sound of the rioting crowd outside, and I hoped that my friends got out before anything bad happened.

“Why did you do that?” Enzo asked, turning to face me.

I felt my face get hot. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just sort of did it. You’ve done so much for me… Taking a rotten tomato to the front of my shirt was the least I could do.”

Enzo sighed, running a hand through his curly hair, then gestured toward the locker room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you a clean shirt.”

I followed him to the locker room. Once we were inside with the door shut, the muffled sounds of the protesters faded away completely, leaving us with a welcome silence. Enzo walked over to his locker and dropped his duffle bag on the floor. I followed, then watched as he retrieved an extra hockey jersey with his number on it out of his locker.

held it out to me, then turned his back and folded his arms. Just before he did, however, I could see that his cheeks had turned slightly red, and I

my head and tossed it in the trash, not even wanting to bother with trying to get the rotten tomato smell out

reached my knees. The sleeves alone, which were supposed to be short on Enzo, came down to my elbows. I felt silly wearing something so oversized, but at the

turn around now,” I

widened momentarily as he looked at me, but then, a smirk spread across his face. I

make fun of me,” I

eyes a bit. “I’m not making fun of you,” he murmured, averting his

embarrassed pout turned into a slight smile, and I looked

us, I dropped my arms from where they were folded across my chest and back to my sides, looking up at him with my brain scattered. He had just told

me, pressing his palm into the lockers above my head. I tilted my face up to look at him, and for a long moment, our lips hovered tantalizingly close to one another. I pictured him lifting up the hockey jersey he loaned me and running his hands along my body, eventually pulling down my jeans just enough and thrusting himself into

his senses. The glow in

the protesters and the upcoming hockey game, but the throbbing feeling in my panties and the feeling of my heart leaping in my

gotta do something about those protesters,”

now had his back turned

“Enzo, are you gonna say anything about it

it. Campus security will take care of it if they get too out of hand, and besides: there’s no convincing these