Page 103 of Offside Angle

“Nah,” I say, settling deeper into my chair. “I’m good.”

Damian doesn’t argue. “Alright.”

More of the guys start filtering in, loud and half-asleep, filling the room with noise. I stay right where I am, sipping my coffee.

Matteo finally lifts his head just enough to glare at me from under his arm, blushing furiously.

I give him a small, shameless wink.

He groans and drops his head back down.

The locker room is way too quiet for a team that just won their way into the Finals.

Everyone’s already in full gear, sticks resting between their knees, tape half-unraveled in some guys’ hands because they keep picking at it. The air feels thick, the whole room caught in the same held breath.

Damian stands in the middle of the room with his cane planted in front of him, scanning every single one of us with slow, deliberate attention.

“Vanguard plays dirty when they’re desperate. They’ll try to get under your skin. They’ll try to make it personal. Don’t give them the satisfaction. We play our game. We stay disciplined. We make them chase us.”

He pauses, letting that sink in. A few of the older guys nod. I just stare at a spot on the floor between my skates and try not to let my knee bounce.

Elias, of course, can’t help himself. He’s already bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with anticipation, grinning as if this is the best day of his life.

“Listen up, children,” he says, way too loud for how tense the room is. “This is Game One. We set the tone tonight. We show them exactly who the fuck we are. And if any of you even think about letting them push you around, I will personally come find you in the parking lot after the game and—”

“You gonna threaten to marry us too if we win the Cup?” Cole cuts in from two stalls down, smirking.

The whole room snorts. Even Damian’s mouth twitches.

Elias flips him off without missing a beat. “Last year I was allowed to be dramatic. This year I’ve evolved. I’m a mature leader now.”

“Bullshit,” Shane mutters from the corner, already half-dressed in goalie gear. “You cried in the shower after we lost Game Four last finals.”

“I had emotions,” Elias argues, hand to his chest like he’s offended. “I’m in touch with them. Unlike some of you emotionally constipated motherfuckers.”

Jace lets out a nervous little laugh from the rookie section. Nico elbows him, but he’s grinning too. Even Viktor looks vaguely amused, which is basically the same as rolling on the floor for him.

I force a smirk and shake my head, but inside my stomach is doing that tight, ugly twist it always does before we play them.

Vanguard.

Fucking Vanguard.

They’re the kind of team that doesn’t just want to beat you — they want to humiliate you while they do it. Cheap shots, running their mouths, trying to get under your skin every single shift. Last time we played them in the regular season, one of their defensemen tried to take Cole’s head off behind the play and then acted shocked when I dropped my gloves. I still want to punch that guy in the throat every time I see his stupid face on the schedule.

And now we’re in the Finals against them.

Great.

Just fantastic.

I shift in my stall and roll my shoulders, trying to loosen up the tension already building there. My gloves feel too tight. My helmet feels too tight. Everything feels too tight.

Damian’s talking, but I only catch pieces of it. Something about special teams. Something about not getting sucked into their bullshit. I nod at the right moments while my brain runs three steps ahead, replaying every dirty trick they pulled the last time we faced them.

I catch Cole’s eye across the room. One raised eyebrow tells me he’s already noticed I’m spiraling, so I give him a tight little shrug.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Lock it down.