Seeing the puck reach its goal made Noah more than smug as he grinned at Anderson, who stared at the sight before him— Trevor on the floor, and the puck far behind him, still toppling on the ground like a fallen dime.
When Anderson shoved him again, Noah had enough. He was tired of the stick up Anderson's ass that made him a total asshole. It wasn't long before their shoving session turned into a full-blown fight.
"Come on, guys," Tyler said as he tried to pull Anderson back, while Trevor tried to pull Noah back. "We're teammates! You've got to stop this."
Tyler's words were white noise to Anderson because he continued to lunge at Noah until Coach Benson blew his whistle, stopping all of the commotion happening on the ice.
"What the hell is this? Is this a team full of fucking pansies? Why are you dipshits fighting like this is a fucking pageant show!"
Noah ground his teeth, annoyed that he let Anderson get him riled up like this again. He shrugged off Trevor's hold as he watched Coach Benson come over to them. The rest of the players skated over as well, lining up with them.
"What the hell were you two doing on my ice?" Coach Benson seethed out, passing his clipboard to the assistant coach.
"Sorry, coach," Noah said, knowing that excuses never worked with Coach Benson, nor placing the blame. Anderson followed suit, his jaw clenched tight.
"Yeah, sorry, coach."
"Sorry isn't enough!" Coach Benson yelled as he glared at them. "I told you no fighting on my ice unless it's against your opponents. And last time I checked, your teammates."
"Sorry, coach," Noah and Anderson said in unison.
"You bet your asses you're sorry," Coach Benson grumbled. "Five sets of lateral hops and shoot the ducks, and that goes for everyone."
Protests were made along with groans as everyone realized that they would have to stay longer.
"Thank Walker and Anderson, ladies," Coach Benson said as he walked away.
Noah bit his tongue, resigning himself to his fate as he glanced at the clock. Usually, he had thirty minutes before he had to meet Professor Bryant for his tutoring session. He would have to get through this fast so he wouldn't be late.
Noah skated to the end of the ice rink where the line was, and slowly, the rest of the team followed suit.
"Come on. Let's get this done," Adam, the team captain said, as he skated in place behind the line. All of them reluctantly began hopping back and forth over the line.
After they finished the excruciating sets, everyone dragged their feet into the locker room. Noah stretched his muscles, glancing at the time. He had about fifteen minutes left to get ready and make it across campus to meet Professor Bryant. Noah walked over to his locker and grabbed the things he would need for a quick shower. As he did, he heard Anderson behind him, speaking to Tyler.
"I know you hate the guy, but you should have never tried to get the biscuit. You were on his team this time," Tyler said to Anderson, trying to reason with him.
"Fuck that," Anderson said as he slammed his locker shut. "If he wasn't hogging the puck, I wouldn't have to take it."
Noah snorted. Anderson was delusional at best. He wasn't hogging the puck from anyone. Anderson had just yet to realize that hockey was a team sport, and still hadn't gotten over his vendetta against him since he realized they were on the same team.
"You got something to say, Walker," Anderson barked out.
Noah glanced over his shoulder, wondering if it was worth it. He didn't have any more time to waste on the likes of Anderson, but at the same time, his words bothered him.
"There is no hogging the puck in the game. You just don't know what it means to be a team player. This isn't football. There is no star quarterback here," Noah said as he slammed his locker shut. "We work together to win. Not to childishly be the one to slam the puck."
Anderson growled, and Tyler grabbed his arm. "Chill out, man. I'm not doing drills again. I've got to meet my girl after this."
Anderson ripped away from Tyler's hold. "You shouldn't even be here," he grumbled.
"And why is that?" Noah asked. "I have every right to be on this team.”
"You're taking up space, Walker," Anderson bit back. "You don't need to be here. You already have your daddy and mommy backing you. Hell, you don't need to be drafted. I wouldn't be surprised if already have a place on a team. You're just here for show."
"I don't have a place on any team, and I don't have anyone backing me," Noah gritted through his teeth, annoyed by Anderson's words. It always annoyed him when people associated his spot on a team not as an attribute from his own talents, but because of his parents. He worked his ass off to get here, and he didn't need people like Anderson bringing him down.
"Yeah, whatever," Anderson said, dismissively shaking his head. "We all know the truth. Your daddy brought your way on this team, just like he brought your way into AHL. You're not even that good of a player. You're just average. There's many more of us that could be out there on the ice, but because of your daddy’s name and his money, you're starting."
