The adrenaline is thrumming through my skin as we start to set up for some quick shooting drills. The snap of my wrist as I shoot at Winnie is comforting. This is the routine that I need.
My stomach is all aflutter.
Eloise brushes past me, and her natural scent, crisp and lemony, mixes with the fresh ice, and I have to stop myself from smiling.
She catches my eye through the cages of our helmets, and I can’t help but think she looks fucking amazing in our jerseys. The black, light pink and dark neon pink make her look lethal. Her hair is in a ponytail down her back, barely covering her name in the light pink.
Her number underneath stops me for a moment.
I forgot that she was number twenty-one. The opposite of my twelve. The Otters must think that we’re insane and that this was all planned. I bite my lip, nudging her. She smiles back, skating into me so that we’re face to face, cage to cage. Her bottom lip looks like it wants to be bitten, and I would like to volunteer my services.
“You look like trouble,” she shouts over the loud music from the DJ.
“You look like a Vortex; it’s hot,” I shout back. Her cheeks colour, darkening to a vermillion that I’d like to pinch. It’s colouring the little bit of neck that I can’t see much of under her gear, but I bet it’s settling into her chest.
“I’m not going to wear the gear at home.”
I blink at her. “I mean, that would be a serious shame...”
She snorts. “You could wear mine,” she teases, and my stomach plummets at the thought. But the plummet isn’t a bad thing; it’s pleasant.
Like I want it.
She bumps her cage against mine, rattling me back into my brain. If we weren’t about to play an hour of hockey, I would have pulled her into an alcove and kissed her silly. Her brown eyes watch the way I swallow my tongue at the thought, and she smirks. “Get your head in the game Matthews. We have some competition to scare into submission.”
My head feels empty for a moment as I nod before we both skate back to the entrance of our side and hustle down the tunnel to the locker room for the line reading. We already know that it’s going to be a little experimental, but Coach Lawson seems to be tittering with excitement.
Well, as much as the man could titter. His gruff demeanour definitely feels more rattled than usual.
The whole locker room has an excited energy to it.
He claps his hands twice, the other coaches shuffling in behind him. The little whispers of the surrounding girls are cut off immediately as he twitches his moustache.
“Right, ladies. New year, new team. Same goal.” He raises an eyebrow, and I can see the ice blue of his eye stare into me. “We’re crushing the competition and showing them that they’re no match for the Vortex.”
Cheers erupt around me, and the energy sings through my veins as I join in. letting a quick whoop out as he cuts us off again. “I’m going to give the opening line up and then let your captain say a few words before we play.”
We let the energy settle among us with bated breath, focused eyes, and thundering pulse. “On the right, your assistant captain Aurora Alexander; in the centre, your captain Brynn Bailey; and on the left, Lily Andersen!” We cheer after each name is called. Rory’s cheeks flush as her full name is said, and Lily pales in comparison. She’s only in her second year on the team, but she’s crushed it, and she’s worked really well with Rory and Brynn in practice. It’s a solid topline.
“For your defence, a drumroll please,” he says and with a flourish very much unlike the Coach Lawson I know, as he cuts off our mismatched lap drumming. “On the right, Taylor Matthews, and on the left for her first match as a Vortex, Eloise Harper!” We’re cheering loudly, Winnie’s shaking Eloise’s shoulders as Brynn bumps into her. “And in net, you know her, you love her: Winifred Polk!”
She tilts her head back with a groan, but the smile doesn’t leave her face as we cheer for her.
Brynn taps the back of her head as she stands up, walking over to Lawson and towering over himin her skates. She makes for a formidable figure with her hockey gear on. Her smile, though, completely cancels out any scariness of her person. She’s got her waterproof mascara, and her eyebrows look like she’s done them as well. Her cheeks and freckles are paler from the tinted moisturizer that she puts on before every game.
“Ladies,” her voice booms like an Energizer bunny and her hands twitch. I watch the way her fingers tap and how her nails are filed down but painted nicely with a French tip. “The Otters are rough. Despite playing them before, we know that there’s new blood on the team. They’re untested and cocky. They think that they know what’s best and how to win, but we know better.” She pauses as we cheer, the energy in the room throbbing, just out of reach. “We’re going to win the Cup this year, or I’ll owe you all several rounds at Gin and Bear It! Let’s go get them!”
The crash of bodies against the board is loud, and the absence of the ref’s whistle is even louder. I’m shouting from the bench as Eloise and I are waiting for our next shift change. We’re halfway through the game, middle of the second period, and it’s been a game of trading blows and goalies who are brick walls. The score’s still 0-0, and I wouldn’t be shocked if it stayed that way until the last few seconds of a period. It’s been a physical game, and I’m sure that by the end of it, Eloise and I are going to be black and blue from the amount of body checks into the boards we’ve received.
They’ve been peppering Winnie too, who looks like she hasn’t broken a sweat. She’s been locked in this whole game, which is our saving grace. Our second and third string defence lines feel a little more unproven, and they don’t seem to be comfortable playing with each other yet. I want to point it out to Lawson and ask him if we should have been the focus of his ire, but he’s so red in the face he’s switched from his warm setting to his sour setting.
“Matthews, Harper, get in there!” he snaps and we’re jumping the boards as Harper and Layla, a sophomore and rookie, come off. They’re panting as we head for the puck. Eloise catches it on the blade of her stick as it crosses the blue line into our half of the rink.
She’s launching it to me just as a blur of red rushes past me and directly into her. My heart’s in my throat as her helmet hits the ice and the Otter scrambles to get off of her. My pulse is racing as I rush the Ottawa player and shove her into the boards. “What the fuck?” I shout into her face. “She didn’t have the fucking puck!”
The refs pull me off of her, and her wide eyes look comical. I look at her number and narrow my eyes. “You better watch your back, 82! You’ve got a target now!” I snap. She pales under her cage, and I let the ref pull me off of her and into the sin bin. My heart’s in my throat as I see Eloise gingerly get up, favouring her right knee as Brynn helps her to the bench.
Taking a drink from the water bottle that’s in the sin bin, I let the back of my helmet thud against the glass as I watch her talk with our physiotherapist Olivia Davis. She’s shaking her head, and Olivia is asking morequestions. Brynn and Lawson are pulling the tablet out and quickly calling for our special teams to be ready. The no escape clause is still in effect.
