Blake
“Dude! Get your fuckinghead straight. There should be no reason you missed that pass!” Charlie shouts from a couple feet ahead on the ice.
I let out my fourth deep breath of the day and look up at the boiling red right defensemen. I scoff as he rolls his eyes and skates away.
Today everyone seems to be way more tense than usual and for good reason. The first game of the season is in less than three weeks and Coach has been on our ass all day. While the guys were stressed from the threats of bag skating with Clef Jones, I’m stressed from the idea of working with Clef Jones' daughter tonight.
Cleo and I haven’t talked since our almost kiss two days ago. Today, I’m supposed to go over to her apartment after class and act as if everything is fine between us.
But, it isn’t.
We’re supposed to be doing the whole weird “friends that almost saw each other fully naked and then forgot about it” thing. But, on Saturday we almost kissed. Hell… she was going to kiss me had we not been interrupted.
She. Was. Going to. Kiss. Me.
Ugh.
Stupid phone.
I don’t notice Braxton skating up to me until I feel the weight of his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry about CT. He’s in a mood because he saw Vee with one of the baseball guys yesterday.”
I nod, noting that I’d have to check on Charlie before the end of the day, and begin to wrap up. Today’s practice was probably the worst we've had since the start of the season and I’m shocked that I haven’t been called–
“Wilder! Stay behind after practice,” Coach calls out to me as the guys begin wrapping up their things, skating off the ice.
Spoke too soon.
I sigh, working fast to wrap up and get off the ice. Maybe I was wrong in thinking that I didn’t fuck up eternally on the ice today. I really need to get my focus in check. I can’t have the scouts from the Washington Eagles looking at me and wondering if they made a bad decision by looking to draft me. I need to show them that their decision won't be made out of stupidity.
When I approach Coach, I immediately look down at my feet. The look that he’s throwing my way is searing hot, I’d get burnt if we made eye contact.
Coach frowns, looking down at his clipboard then back up at me. “Where the hell is your head at, kid? You told me last season that you were ready for this, Wilder,” he says, tone full of disappointment with small traces of anger. I flinch at his words, my head hanging lower as they sink in.
Coach and I have had this talk before, mainly last season when he saw me begin to better myself near the end of the year after a major crash out with girls and alcohol in the beginning.
I will never forget the day that Clef Jones went out of his way to take me out to dinner and try to get me some help.
Last year for me was one of the best seasons and shittiest years of my life. My nana passed at the beginning of the season just when we hit a three-game winning streak. But, I never stopped playing. I played so hard to the point of exhaustion, which was probably why I turned to slight alcohol abuse and relying on sex to numb the pain from grief. Since then, I’ve only been with a few girls here and there and limited my alcohol intake tremendously.
I can’t slip back into old habits.
Coach, Jace, and Derek stopped me way before I ever reached the point of relying on substances to numb the pain of grief; I wouldn’t consider myself an alcoholic. It was just a month of bad decisions.
“I am ready.” I gulp, my eyes finding the laces of my shoes before the face of the man who helped me at my lowest.
“Son, I need you more than anything right now. You entered the draft this year and I know that Washington is looking to take you on next season. You only have this year with us and then without a doubt you’ll be playing in the NHL come next fall. I need you to keep your promise from last year.”
The esteemed promise.How could I ever forget that?
“I won’t disappoint, I just got a little distracted, but it won’t happen again,” I say meeting his eyes.
Coach gives me a lighthearted smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he claps a hand on my shoulder, and then the two of us make our way to the parking lot still side-by-side.
“Good. Now who’s this girl that Jace keeps telling me is distracting you?”
I come to an abrupt stop; my heart feels as if it’ll fall out of my chest as I side-eye the man.
do I tell him that the one woman distracting me is the girl that he one, told the entire team plus the football team, was off limits, and two, ishisgoddamn daughter.
