“All damn day,” he growls as we collide together.
“It takes a real alpha to show that much stamina,” I tease him. “You don’t seem like the type to be able to handle that.”
“Fuck you,” he snarls.
“It’s okay to be a two pump chump!” Julius sneers, huffing out a breath when I manage to knock the puck away into his blade.
Breaking away, he takes off while I continue to bait the other player, staying on his ass so he can’t catch up to Julius. I love to score points as much as the next guy, but the Dragons are going to need everything we can throw at them.
Grinning as Julius passes the puck right before the defensemen drives him into the boards, I skate away when the player in front of me loses his concentration for a second.
My teammates yell as they pass the puck between themselves, fighting to stay in possession of it. Julius shoves away from the boards, unable to since he’s pinned. Moving in to help, I get into a fight while my teammates score the point.
“That’s enough!” Coach Miles yells as we’re pulled apart.
I get punished and have to serve a two minute penalty in the box, even though I think that’s bullshit, and skate away to watch my team play from my little corner of the rink. My gaze moves to the Dragons’ coach, knowing this game is a big deal for both of them. For some reason, there’s bad blood there, but I’m not sure why.
A girl is on her phone at the bench, and it appears as if she may be videotaping. I’m not sure why she’s there when I’ve never seen her before. Is she an influencer or some kind of thing? Coach Curtis leans down to talk to her, and the girl just bobs her head.
She’s obviously someone important.Maybe I can use that. I don’t fucking care if I spend most of the game in here if it means we win. As soon as my time is up, I’m back on the ice, my skates propelling me into the game.
I’ve been part of the Knotty Pucker League for ten years, and I’m grateful for every second of playing time I get. I may not enjoy hanging out with my teammates off the ice, but I would fucking bleed for them while on it.
The Scorpions are a team that I recently joined in the last three years when I was traded, but I’m not as wild as I used to be.
The Dragons also score, and now we’re tied by the end of the second period. Shit, it’s so damn close.
“We’re doing fine,” Coach Miles says, glaring at the other team as we all shuffle off the ice. “Is that girl seriously getting on the ice?”
Glancing over as I sit down at the bench, I shrug as I watch her lift some type of video camera as she lithely skates across the ice. It’s mounted to a pole that allows her to pan over the stadium. The crowd goes wild for her, but she stays focused on recording.
“That’s new,” I grunt, shaking my head as I look around the stadium. It’s about half full, which isn’t normal for a team doing as well as the Dragons. “Is she a media stunt?”
Her hair is glossy and shines as she flips it over her shoulder. I can also see that she has great form, strong legs, and suddenly wonder what it would be like to have them wrapped around my waist.
Fuck no.Where did that come from?
Her eyes sparkle as she skates, effortlessly turning to capture the fans in the stands. I can’t tell what color they are, and it suddenly really bothers me.
“I know who she is,” Coach breathes, his gaze on the girl. “I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Who is she, Coach?” another player asks.
She has all of our attention, and I wonder if she’s drinking it in. Is she the type to enjoy everyone’s eyes on her, or is she focused on the job she’s completing?
“She’s Coach Freedman’s daughter,” Coach grunts. “I used to see her a lot when I was on his team.”
“Shouldn’t you know how he thinks if he was once your coach?” I ask. “Plays and shit?”
“Nope. I don’t know any of that, because the man is constantly changing things up,” Coach sighs. “Outside of being a dick, he’s competent.”
I doubt he’ll want to get into why there’s bad blood between them now, so I block everything out to keep my head in the game. We’re going to have to give everything to win, and even then, I don’t know if it’ll be enough.
SANTO
“Who’s the girl?” I ask, watching the game from a back room. I’m prepping for the players to return once it ends, making sure I have ice packs, wrapping, and more.
This game has been savage, and I doubt it’ll let up until it’s over. Hardcore rivalries tend to get like this. I’ve been here long enough to know this one seems personal.
