It doesn’t help that I’m still getting used to my new defense partner, Will. Not that Derek was any better of a defenseman. I had my share of issues with him, but we had worked together for a few seasons and gelled well once I could ignore the black hole that was his personality. Working with a new person takes some adjusting. And, with Will, it’s taking a bit longer than I want to admit.
“Damn, he’s really letting you have it today, huh?” my new partner says. His words further fuel the irritation building in me. I don’t say anything, just make a small grunting noise that I hope he interprets as the end of the conversation, but then he pats me on the shoulder. My entire body tenses. “It’s all good, we all have bad days.”
If he doesn’t take his hand off me, he’s the one who’s about to have a bad day.
“Will,” Atlas says as he skates by, his gaze taking in our posture. “Let’s go over here. I have some tips to give you.”
I don’t even have the energy to thank Atlas with my eyes as he steers Will away. My fists tighten even harder, my stick at risk of breaking beneath my fingers.
The breath I take is heavy as I try to regulate the anger coursing through me. Will is just an underclassman trying to fit in, not realizing how patronizing he can be. But he’s not the first asshole I’ve had to train with and he won’t be the last. At least his disrespect isn’t intentional, he just puts his foot in his mouth too much.
Kendall and Uriah skate toward me, their movements almost in sync. “Shit, did the kid say something stupid again?”
“He touched me,” I grit out.
Uriah responds by blowing out air through his mouth. “Yep, Atlas grabbing him was the right call.”
Although I’m thankful for my friends, I feel like shit company as I stand there seething. They don’t push me to say more, though, just continue to talk about the upcoming match against one of the Ivy League schools. I do a few stretches, waiting for the next play to be called so we can simulate a game once more.
This time, I’m more focused. I’m able to calm my wrath by pumping on my skates, keeping an eye on Atlas and Kendall as they pass the puck back and forth. They devise these plans to trick us during practice, so I see the move before they even make it. While they’re sending it back and forth, the left wing forward—a new player who goes by the nickname Kavinsky—swings by in my peripheral. My skates fly in his direction before I can even think, intercepting the puck as Kendall sends it his way. When the puck is in possession, Coach blows his whistle to end the play.
With that tiny bit of confidence pumping in my veins, the rest of practice is easy. Especially when it’s our turn to drill the forwards. By the end, we’re all completely worn out. Chatter falls to the side as we clean up and prepare to head home to relax our tired and aching bodies.
But then I remember what awaits me at home, and I feel like throwing up all over again.
I debate sittingin my car and waiting for any member of my pack to come home, but I know it’s futile. Sam’s internship keeps him busy on the weekends. Those leeches at the firm take advantage of his class-free days so they can use his intelligence for their cases. He is a shoo-in for a regular position once hegraduates and passes the bar, but I’m not sure if this firm is the right one for him. Sometimes he doesn’t get out until way past five, and even then, he usually stops by Alpha Xi to make sure the guys aren’t getting into any trouble. He won’t be home for a long while.
Kit might be inside right now, but his schedule is unpredictable as well. He likes to lock himself in his or Sam’s room for hours to work on projects and other things he has to do for school.
When I walk into the house, I expect things to be different. Like there might be a light show indicating that a new person is inhabiting its walls, but it feels the same. It’s even quiet. One of those animes that Kit likes to watch is paused on the TV, and the lights are out except for the overhead light in the kitchen. I walk in there to discover it’s empty and just as peaceful as I left it this morning, the place still just as clean and pristine as I like it.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I don’t have to meet her right now.
Despite being hungry and needing a second shower after practice, I walk up to my room with a purpose. The second I fall onto my bed, the blankets hugging every part of my skin, my body relaxes, and the nap I’ve been waiting for pulls me under without a fight.
We drift along a purple sea.Our boat is smaller than I’d like, but the feeling is magical as we glide across the water like it’s ice. The clouds in the night sky look like marshmallows, and the second I have that thought, a giant rumbling shakes everything around us. The sound that accompanies it isguttural, like someone is burping in my dream space, and it pisses me off.
“Those darn land dwellers,” I say, in a voice that is almost British rather than the pirate accent I’d expect. “They’re trying to knock us off our ship!”
“This is not a ship,” Kit says, no pirate or British accent anywhere to be found, just his usual tenor pitch. “We are on a few logs you two tied together. Pretty poorly, I may add.”
I look down to discover he is right, there are only three medium-sized logs beneath us, the tweed we used to bundle them together coming unraveled quicker by the second. It practically melts away, the logs separating.
“I have more twine,” Sam announces, his voice also void of an accent as he gets down and starts to wrap it around the two logs underneath his and Kit’s feet, but I am beginning to float away.
“Wait,” I say as my feet wobble. The wood beneath me moves further away, the gap too big for me to reach out and grab the string that they are trying to swing to me. The looks on their faces are ones of horror as the ocean takes me, their side now completely intact as they drift the other way.
“No, wait, please,” I say, my hand going into the purple water to paddle myself back to them, but the tide is too strong. They look out to me, calling me as I find myself further and further away. “Please, come back!” I yell, no longer able to hear their voices. “We can fix this, we can put it back together,” I croak. “We can… we can be together.”
The sense of dread is interrupted by another rumbling, another obnoxious sound of hunger. It shakes so hard that I fall off my little log, right into the depths of the sea. The tide pulls me under, and the darkness immediately causes me to choke.
I jolt awake, my skin in a partial sweat and my mind cloudy asmy eyes try to adjust to the dark. I’m on my stomach, fully clothed and atop the covers as reality starts to settle in. And the more it settles in, the more the dream begins to fade from my memory.
My stomach rumbles loudly, indicating it needs the food that I didn’t put into it after practice. I sigh loudly, reaching around for my phone to see the time. When I see that it’s almost midnight, I groan. My nap turned into a seven-hour ordeal, apparently.
After I empty my bladder and finally change into more comfortable clothes, I have no choice but to venture downstairs for sustenance. Especially now that I’m so awake, it’ll take a large carb meal to put me back to sleep again.
But when I get to the kitchen, I’m not the only one craving a midnight snack.
