“Back on the ice,” he shouts at us.
“That girl is fucking with your head.” Grant says it low enough for only me to hear. Half the time I’m pissed about the way she messes with me. The other half I’m turned on and amused.
I wanted to throttle her yesterday when she kept clearing my calls. That mouth of hers is going to be what takes me out in the end.
We skate back out, ready to start the third period. The other team isn’t shit-talking at the moment. That would be better for them because them running their mouths about the ice girls is starting to really piss me off.
I don’t need to know who they are speaking of when they call one of them “Legs.” That’s all Madeline. I’d know because I too have been staring at them. Does she not own any pants? I suppose both are uniforms, but still. We learned in history that women had to fight to wear them, but I guess Madeline doesn’t care about their sacrifices. I also guess that I’m losing my fucking mind.
“Luke,” Grant warns. I give a small shrug, letting him know I am doing it. When Grant’s shoulders drop and I see him shift his stance, I know he’s going to have my back in this brawl I’m about to start. He’s growing on me.
“The fuck are you looking at, Locke-Ness?” They think they’re clever with their nicknames. I give him a smile. His own falters. He’s quick to fix it and keep running his mouth. “Got nothing to say?”
“He’s pissed; we’re talking about the ice bitches,” one of his teammates responds. The whistle blows, the puck is dropped, and I bolt off the line. It doesn’t take me half a second to catch up with my target. I’m sure the coach is shouting because I’m not in the right position, but I’m not listening. I have only one target, who has just gotten the puck passed to him.
I check the other team’s wing, Jagger, against the boards and wedge my stick into the play. I get control of the puck and fire it over to Caleb. I can’t stand him most days, but there’s no denying he can make a shot. There, I did my part for the team. Now I brace myself for the fun that’s about to come. There’s excitement coursing through my veins at the thought of Jagger looking for his get back.
He doesn’t disappoint. I let him shove me before we both square off, dropping our gloves to the ice as we start our little dance. I slam my fist into Jagger’s side. I hear the light sound of something cracking. I’m not sure if I broke one of his ribs, but that’s his issue for later. It can be hard to hear over the roar of the crowd when a fight breaks out. I’m not done with him yet. I take another swing at him, knocking his helmet off. I follow it with a right hook to lob him backward into the boards. I pull on his jersey, getting it far enough off to restrain his arms and take him to the ground.
The crowd roars, and a pile-on begins. At one point, I don’t know who I’m hitting and who is hitting me.
“That’s enough.” I’m grabbed by the back of my jersey, and I know it’s Coach, so I don’t fight it. I let him toss me into the penalty box, which does have a nice view down to the Ice Crew. I turn my head and lock eyes with Madeline, who is laughing and watching me.
Then the whistle blows again, and her attention is back on the ice, watching all those fuckers. I end up in a few more fights before the game is finally over. We win, but that was predicted. This was one of the easier teams we’ll face this year.
“You good?” Grant asks.
“I’m fine.” I’m soaking in an ice bath, and I’m almost done. I’m ready to get out of here. I should have grabbed my phone.
“That’s why you’re bouncing your leg.” I stop bouncing it and fully immerse it back down into the water. I keep forgetting how perceptive this fucker is. He’s not wrong in his observation. I have all of this pent-up energy inside me. Usually the fighting releases it, but that’s not the case today.
“You’re always checking in on me. I’m fine, so stop asking.”
“Sure you are.”
“I’m out.” I grab the sides of the tub to push up to stand, but Grant nails me with a look that has my ass dropping back down.
“She’s going to Caleb’s party,” he provides. I wouldn’t have guessed that. Madeline stays close to Georgia, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Georgia at one of the after-parties. It’s not really her speed, and I’d guess she doesn’t get invited either.
“Who?” I play dumb.
“You know who. Are we going together?”
“Fine,” I agree, getting up.
“Don’t leave without me!” Grant calls out from behind me.
I ignore his ass. Not that it matters. He’s a quick fucker and catches up to me back in our room.
“Am I driving or are you?” Grant pulls out a polo.
“What are you wearing?”
“Is there a uniform for the parties too?”
“You look like a fuckboy.”
“Then I’ll fit in.” He shrugs. A bark of laughter leaves me. “Besides, we can’t all be emo and dress in black.”
