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“Alright, everyone," Coach Dawson says, his tone no-nonsense. "Today, we're working on our offensive zone entries and maintaining puck possession. It's crucial for the upcoming game.”
I nod, but my gaze wanders to the stands where a few fans have gathered to watch the practice.
We start with a series of drills. I try to focus, but my mind keeps thinking about how I’m going to convince my family I’m engaged to a girl who can’t stand me. We haven’t talked since that night and—
“Damnit!” During a passing drill, a stray puck slips past me.
“Harvey!” Coach Dawson calls out sternly. “What the hell’s going on with you? You better get your head back at practice with the rest of us!”
I’m glad my face is covered so no one can see how red I am. “Sorry, Coach,” I say loudly, and double down on my focus.
Just focus on the damn practice and text her later and apologize.
Luckily, I manage to get my shit together for the rest of practice, but I need to make things right with Elsa, and soon.
The wedding is this weekend.
After practice, I shower and change. Before heading over to our team meeting, I grab my phone from my locker. I have a ton of notifications, messages, and missed calls.
But none from Elsa.
I sigh and I start to type:
Are we still on? Are you good?
I frown then change my mind and erase it.
Instead, I type:
I’m sorry about what happened at the bar.
Do you forgive me?
I hit send.
Feeling a little anxious, I’m more than happy to lock my phone away in my locker and head over to the team meeting for a distraction. I’m just hoping she will have responded by the time I check my phone again.
I try to focus on the meeting. Coach goes over strategies, game plans, and player assignments for the next game.
We also review previous game video footage to analyze our performance and that of their upcoming opponents.
But in the back of my head, I am worried Elsa not only hates me now, but that she won’t want to go with me to my sister’s wedding. My grandma is ecstatic and keeps going on about how she can’t wait to meet my fiancé finally. I can’t show up alone to my sister’s wedding.
Elsa gave her word though, and she doesn’t seem the type to break it. That is my only hope.
When I get back to my locker after the meeting, I feel like a high school kid waiting to see if their crush texted them back.
My heart drops. Nothing from Elsa.
Distracted, I barely acknowledge the slaps on my back from my teammates as I head out. It’s hard to ignore the slap on the back of my head though.
I turn to see Tchekov, my teammate and the left winger on our team, and he’s looking at me with concerned eyes.
“What’s up, dude? You’re not yourself. You seem distracted and you haven’t made fun of anyone once today.”
I snort and say, “Just got a lot of my mind, man.”
He says, “Are you worried about the upcoming conference finals?”
