“Captain,” he calls, panting dramatically as he touches the line. “Did she…”
Coach’s whistle shrieks.
Dex stops mid-sentence and actually looks afraid.
“Did she what?” Coach says.
Dex swallows. “Did she… enjoy the… charitable event?”
Coach narrows his eyes. “You’re on thin ice.”
“Technically we’re all on thin ice,” Gregory says.
Coach points at him. “Mills, don’t encourage him.”
Mason skates up beside me during a water break and bumps my shoulder. “Okay. Real question.”
“Here we go,” I mutter.
He leans in, voice low like we’re discussing state secrets. “Does she know you’re the captain?”
“I think that part was obvious.”
Mason squints. “Yeah, but does she know what that means?”
“Enlighten me,” I say.
Dex calls from the circle, “It means he’s emotionally unavailable, allergic to drama, and will absolutely leave a party early.”
Coach claps his hands. “Alright, toddlers. Line up. Passing drill. And if any of you send a no-look backhand pass into traffic like you’re trying to impress your imaginary girlfriends, I’m benching you next game.”
Dex raises a hand. “What if my girlfriend is very real and very supportive?”
Coach doesn’t even look at him. “Then she deserves better.”
Laughter ripples through the line.
We go into a high-tempo passing drill… quick touch, quick move, head up. I call out names, keep the line organized, keep the pace. It’s automatic. I like structure. I like systems. That’s why being captain works. You keep the noise inside the rails.
Except today the noise has a name.
And my team is allergic to not saying it.
Dex comes flying through the drill and chirps as he passes. “So what’s her name again, Captain, Sloane? Or are we sticking with ‘that woman from the game show’?”
“Yes, Sloane, but for you, ‘none of your business,’” I say.
“Oooh,” Mason says. “He’s protective.”
“I’m not protective.”
Gregory, skating past, adds, “That sounded protective.”
Coach blows his whistle again. “If I hear one more syllable that isn’t ‘puck,’ ‘pass,’ or ‘shoot,’ I’m making you all do bunny hops.”
Dex looks offended. “Bunny hops are humiliating.”
Coach’s voice goes deadpan. “Exactly.”
