Snorting, I lick my lips and look back at Coach who’s pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Next time tell him to grow some balls, not start a fight with him.” Coach shakes his head.
Theo grumbles something incoherent under his breath but nods.
“Right, now go out there and show those Cat’s that we take no prisoners,” he shouts. “Dragons on three…”
“One.”
“Two.”
“DRAGONS!”
***
I thought the ache from practice a couple days ago would’ve gone by now, or at the very least, died down. But if anything, the ache grew worse as the game continued.
Every muscle in my body was contracting when I moved, and I wanted nothing more than for this game to be over with so I could take a nice long fucking bath to hopefully ease the pain my muscles are experiencing.
Glancing toward the countdown, the big red flashing numbers indicate there’s only fifty-three seconds left on the clock until the game is over. And it couldn’t come soon enough.
Adjusting my stance, my eyes glance across the ice as I see Hunter with the puck, weaving in and out of the opposing players. Straightening up, I hold my breath as he gains on their goal…but as he winds up to take the shot, the puck is stolen from right underneath him.
Groaning, my eyes follow the puck as number forty charges toward me. Honestly, what’s the point? Even if I let this goal in, it was pointless. The Riverside Dragons have already won, and by a long shot.
But from the concentration on his face, he was determined to get that puck into my net.
Not happening, buddy.
My eyes don’t leave the puck as he gains on me. Winding up his stick, he swings, and the puck comes flying toward the bottom right of the net. Throwing myself to the ground, my muscles cry out in pain as I spread my legs open like a butterfly.
The puck bounces off my pad, and the force of it reverberates across my whole body.
Then the buzzer goes.
Game over, we won.
But obviously, number forty didn’t like the result because the next thing I know, he’s throwing his gloves and helmet on the ice and charging toward me with a face full of thunder.
I don’t have enough time to react before he’s throwing a punch at my face. Taken back, my head knocks to the side.
In all the years I’ve been playing hockey, not oncehave I gotten into a fight. There’s been a few arguments here and there, but I've never laid my hands on another person. Coach always praised me for remaining calm while others wanted to fight. But truthfully, this feels different than any other time.
There’s something about number forty that makes the anger in me erupt, and I have no idea why. I’m not an angry person, I have never been. So, I don’t know why looking at him is making my blood boil.
Regaining my balance, I square my shoulders and stare at him. “What the fuck, dude?”
“You couldn’t just let the goal in?” He hisses.
I snort. “Seriously? Even if I did, you still wouldn’t have won.”
“You think you’re so great, huh? You and your whole team?” Throwing another punch toward me, I dodge it. “You were lucky, all of you.”
Peeling my gloves and helmet off, I hold them in my arms and smirk at him. “Or maybe our team is better than yours, ever thought about that?”
Okay, I might be edging him on…but it's funny to watch someone get riled up over something they have no control over in the first place.
“You fucking—” His eyes glaze with anger as he lunges toward me again, but I dodge his punch,again.
