My legs pump furiously as my blades cut deep into the ice. My sight locks on the blue line looming in the distance. As I reach it, I drop down low enough to tap it with my stick, then turn, heading back in the direction I just came from. I don’t even look at my teammates to see where they are. I only focus on myself.
“Come on boys, you need to push harder! You look like a bunch of slugs out there! Faster!” Coach screams, his voice echoing through the rink.
The last of the team finishes the first five suicides, crossing the line with all of us groaning and panting. Sweat drips from my forehead and I’ve barely gotten a chance to catch my breath before Coach blows his whistle and I take off, charging down the ice again.
We repeat this over and over, going from line to line, each movement a rhythmic display: sprint, stop, tap the line, pivot, sprint again. Each turn I make sends shards of ice flying.
"Pick it up!" Coach yells as he paces along the ice. "I want everything you’ve got! I want to have your heart bleeding on the ice for me, for you, the team, and most importantly, this school!"
By the time he blows the whistle for the final time, I'm drained and ready to collapse, and judging by the look on my teammates' faces, they feel the same way. Sadly, we’re not done. Practice has only just started.
“Good work,” Coach praises us. “Now, let’s do some crossover drills.” Groans ripple through the group, but we trudge back to the goal line, our determination unbroken. As the whistlesounds again, we push forward, ready to leave everything we have on the ice.
Endless drills push us to perfect our skating precision, speed, and agility, each one designed to challenge our limits. After that, we transition into working on our puck handling and passing skills, fine-tuning every movement. Finally, after what feels like hours of relentless practice, Coach’s whistle echoes off the walls, signaling a much-needed break.
“Alright, that’s enough! Water break, now!” Coach Lein’s voice booms across the rink. His expression arms crossed over his chest as he watches us, always looking for ways to push us harder. “Hydrate, catch your breath. We’re not done yet!”
He doesn’t have to tell us twice. We all hightail it over to the bench. “He’s going to forgive you, Chase. He just needs time,” Carter whispers as he skates beside me, both of us trailing behind the others.
“I don’t think so. I regret ever telling him how I feel. It was the worst thing ever, and I had a feeling it would end this way.” I skate away from him, not wanting to hear his response, and head to my bag, dropping down on the bench and pulling out my water.
It takes everything in me to not look to my right down the bench to where Blake sits with Henley. Hushed whispers fill my ears and my paranoia sinks in, knowing they’re talking about me. That I’m bisexual. I know logically it doesn’t matter to my teammates since they accept Blake, but I know by tomorrow it’s going to be all over the school. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that many people to know.
“Okay, Blake and Carl, get your gear on and go with Coach Miller. You’re going to work on goalie-specific drills while the rest of the team rotates between passing and defensive drills. Let’s get back on the ice!” Coach Lein barks like the drill sergeant he is, and we’re the new privates.
I sit for a minute, letting the others take off to the ice. I know it’ll take Blake longer to put on his gear, and I’m going to take advantage of this moment to talk to him. Once the last of my teammates have made their way to the ice, I move up beside him.
“Blake, can we talk?” My voice hitches as I grip my stick tightly, rocking it back and forth in my hands.
I stand there awkwardly while I wait for an answer, but all I get is silence from him and I hate it. At this point, I’d take rage over him ignoring me.
“Blake, please. I’m sorry. It’s not like it was with you. I was scared shitless of how people would react to my coming out. Hell, I still am because I know how people talk and word spreads. I know tomorrow I’m going to be facing stares and whispers. Please, I love you, Blake. Don’t ruin what we’ve just begun to build. I need you,” I beg him.
He stops what he’s doing and turns to face me, his brows furrowed, eyes wide as his mouth hangs slightly open.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Chase?” His voice is cold.
“You’re giving up on us. I just poured my heart out to you in the locker room in front of the whole team for you to reject me. I made a mistake, and you’re punishing me for it.”
“That’s not how I see it, Chase. What I saw happening is that we had an amazing break, one that I’ll never forget because I was finally with the love of my life and I couldn't wait to come back and show everyone. But then instead, I find out just days before we’re to come back that he’s ashamed of me and doesn’t want anyone to know. I’m not a secret and I won’t be stuffed in a closet. That's why I came out.”
I take a deep breath, because yes I did want to keep it secret, in a way.
“It wasn’t going to be forever. All I wanted from you was time to come out on my own terms to the team, my friends, and my family before just dropping it on them that I was now dating you. It was never my intention to hurt you or hide you away.”
He continues putting on his gear, blowing out deep breaths like he always does when he’s frustrated.
“I love you, Blake. Can you really say the same? You’re the one who went out and fucked someone else, coming home with scratches and hickies after one fight. Not me. You could’ve stayed and listened to what I was saying and talked with me.”
Suddenly he’s in my face, his hand pointed at me as he pokes me in my chest with force, causing me to have to catch my balance.
“You don’t know what love is. You don’t hide the person you love and as for the other, you don’t know shit. Just leave me alone.”
I hear Coach’s whistle behind me and know I need to get on the ice. I give Blake one final look, but he’s turned his back to me as he continues to put on his padding. He hates me and I don’t know how to fix it.
“I love you, Blake,” I whisper and turn, heading out onto the ice, skating over to the rest of my team before Coach rips my ass open for being late.
“Riding with us, Blake? We were going to grab some food.” Carter turns and asks as he pulls his shirt over his head.
