Page 11 of Final Score

“Listen, Coach can be tough, and he’ll push you to your limits, but that’s also why he’s the best. Allowing nothing less than perfection. It’s why we’ve won 2 national championships back-to-back. It’s also why we have 4 alumni players in the NHL.”

The Ronnie nods, breathing deeply, readying himself for another round of drills. It’s no doubt that everyone on this team dreams of playing professionally. It comes with the territory. Yet, despite their talent, most of our team will only see an NHL rink from the stands. Even though we have the best players in the country and killer stats, it’s a numbers game and not everyone will be chosen for the draft.

Coach stands at center ice, directly over the team logo, whistle blowing. The signal for another round of endurance drills and then scoring drills right after. As team Capitan I can see the guys are tired and are ready to call Coach every name in the book. Taking a deep breath, I’m the first one out on the ice. Prepped and waiting. I nod at Coach, as my teammates join me one by one.

Oliver slides to a stop beside me, grumbling under his breath. “This is bullshit.”

Coach glares in Oliver’s direction, his voice bellowing across the ice. “Have something to share with everyone, St. James?”

“No sir. Just preparing to kick ass at Friday’s game.”

“Good answer.” Coach eyes us once more before checking his watch. “Let’s go ladies, we have another half hour of practice before you’re done."

Bumping Oliver in the shoulder, I whisper so Coach doesn’t overhear. “First one done gets five scores.”

Oliver smiles, getting into position. “Make it ten and we’ve got a deal.”

Coach blows the whistle once more and we’re off. Forget the fact that we have the best team in the league. This team is a family. We will always have each other’s backs. Even if it means puking through the finish line.

There are three missed calls and two texts from Kat when practice is over. I sit on the bench in the locker room, my entire body resembling jello, as I scan her messages.

Kat: Call me ASAP!!

Kat: Jenner I’m serious. Call me now.

That can’t be good. I pull up my call history and dial Kat’s number. She picks up on the third ring.

“Why haven’t you been answering my messages?” She asks, her voice raising louder with every word. I could hear her footsteps pacing across the floor in her apartment in the background.

“I had practice all morning, remember? What’s going on? Why all the calls and frantic messages?”

“Check your social media.”

Putting the phone on speaker, I open the app and curse. There are two videos on the screen. One of Kat going crazy on Noah the day they broke up, and the other is a video of me carrying Kat through the house like a caveman the night of the party. Cat’s out of the bag now.

The caption below reads “Someone’s been busy. Trading herself between teams in one day.” The comment section is even worse. Through the phone I can hear Fallon cussing and threatening anyone who tries to smear her best friend’s name.

I laugh as Fallon’s voice screeches through the phone. “Jenner! This is not funny!”

“I know, I know it’s not funny. Do you know who posted it?” I ask.

Hearing the commotion, Oliver walks over, raising his eyebrows in question. What’s wrong? He mouths. I hand him the phone and watch him grimace, shaking his head, as the video plays.

“Noah, who else?” Kat answers. The anger melting from her voice as it cracks. “He’s trying to make himself the victim in all of this. He’s been texting and calling all morning.”

Noah would have been the obvious choice; except I knew for a fact neither he or his new girlfriend had attended the party that night. Which meant someone else had to have taken the second video.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. “Where are you?”

“Home.” She answered.

“Stay there. Oliver and I will come pick you two up later this evening and we’ll fix all of this, ok?” I ask.

“This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen.” We had only been fake dating for one week and Kat was not about to back out on our agreement now. “Breathe, Kat. I’ll handle it.” I promised.

“Ok, I’ll see you later.” I grip the phone, knuckles white, as we say our goodbyes.

“Whose ass do we get to kick?” Oliver asked, his voice level, as he cracks his knuckles menacingly. I knew it took a lot for him to control the anger building inside.