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"PARKER SHOOTS THE DAMN PUCK INTO THE NET." Coach yells at me. 

I don't know what the hell is happening to me. I hear groans scattered throughout the ice rink, making me groan in frustration. "I know I know!" I shout, throwing my only free arm into the air.

 "Everyone take five!" Coach yells at everyone on the ice. I grumble and skate to the old carpet. 

"Aaron!" Grayson yells as he climbs onto the rug and runs after me. "Hey, man, what's wrong?" He asks as he approaches me. Dylan soon follows.

 We sit on the bleachers and I throw my head back. "I don't know what's happening." I tell anyone listening. I can see from the corner of my eye that Dylan and Grayson look at each other, confusion creeping over their faces.

 "Huh?" Dylan speaks.

 "I don't know, it's like... I don't know." I stop looking at the ceiling and look at the ice rink. 

"I think I like someone." Grayson says randomly. Dylan and I looked at him in sync. 

"Who? You?" Dylan asks about Graysons chest. 

He nods. "Yes," a deep breath. "but I think-- I don't know." 

I laugh, "Well, are you going to tell us who it is?"

 Graysons eyes practically shoot out of his eyelids, "Oh, hell no." He immediately says, "You guys fucking wish." 

"C'mon man, we're like your brothers." Dylan states.

 GUYS! GET BACK ON THE ICE!" Coach yells at everyone, it hasn't even been three minutes. Bald bitch.

 ~~~~~

 I come out of my bathroom, a black towel hanging from my waist and my brown hair damp. I go into my room and put on gray sweatpants with a black t-shirt.

 Suddenly, I hear my phone ringing. 

 "Hello?" I pick up.

 "Aaron. Come to the track." Dylan tells me on the phone.

 I feel my eyebrows furrow, "Why? I was there yesterday and the day before." 

I hear sigh followed by a loud noise. Sounds like people yelling. "Just come, like now. There's a big bet and we need you here." He tells me, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I haven't been gone even twenty-four hours and there's already a big bet?

 "Fuck." I mutter under my breath, "Fine. I'll be there in ten." and without letting him respond, I hang up. I put on my shoes and grab the keys to my motorcycle. I'm going down the stairs and just when I'm about to open the front door. I hear my father.

 "Aaron! Where the hell are you going?" I internally roll my eyes as I turn around to look at his old ass. 

"With Dylan." He scoffs and puts his hand on my shoulder, "Look at me, son." He tells me.

I don't.

"Nothing matters more than basketball. Basketball is the key. It's not that stupid hockey." He waves it off. I clench my jaw, but keep my face straight.

 "If you like paying for hockey, you might as well be gay," he continues.

 "What the fuck did you just say?" I spit at him.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that." He orders as he takes his hand off my shoulder and points at my face. 

I shake my head in disgust and continue my way out the house.

 It's time to deal with what was happening. I get to my black motorcycle, put the key in the ignition and turn it over. 

I open the garage to grab my black gloves and matching helmet.

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