Page 55 of Puck Me Back to Life

You defend.

Everything else disappears.

Or at least it used to.

Lately there seems to be a six-foot-five defenseman interfering with the process. Every time I settle into a drill, Ash appears. Every time I stop thinking about him, he skates past. Every time I find a rhythm, he somehow ends up close enough to remind me he exists.

The man is becoming a problem. A very large problem.

During a board battle, I finally manage to gain possession of the puck and turn up ice. For approximately three seconds, I feel successful. Then a shadow falls beside me.

The puck vanishes.

I stop skating.

Ash continues forward with the puck on his stick as though stealing from teammates is a perfectly acceptable hobby.

“What was that?”

He glances over his shoulder. “That was theft.”

The answer shouldn't be funny. Unfortunately, it is.

I hate that.

A few players nearby laugh. Ash looks entirely too pleased with himself.

A few minutes later we're waiting in line for another drill when he glides past me again. “You look distracted.”

“I'm not.”

“You missed two passes.”

“I missed one.”

His mouth twitches. The fact that he counted is somehow more annoying than the comment itself.

Before I can respond, Coach blows the whistle.

The drill starts again. Ash pushes off and rejoins the line. I spend the next ten minutes trying not to think about him. The attempt fails completely. By the time practice ends, I'm exhausted. Not physically. Mentally.

The locker room is loud in the familiar way hockey locker rooms always are. Music plays from a speaker nobody remembers bringing. Somebody is arguing about fantasy football. Somebody else is trying to convince the room that pineapple belongs on pizza.

The conversation becomes surprisingly aggressive. I quietly decide not to get involved.

I start packing my bag with the intention of escaping before anyone notices me.

Unfortunately, Dante notices everybody. “Hayes.”

I look up. “Lopez.”

Dante is sitting on a bench with one skate half unlaced and the expression of a man who has just had an idea. That expression never leads anywhere good.

“You doing anything tonight?”

The question catches me off guard. “No.”

“Good.”