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CHAPTER
ONE
Tyler
I lace up my skates,the familiar tug of the laces grounding me. The cold air of the rink bites my cheeks as I step onto the ice. I glide effortlessly, stick in hand, focused only on the puck.
My teammates yell encouragement, their voices drowned out by the crowd's roar. We're kings here, bringing glory to State U with every goal.
I'm their sharpshooter, their star center, always leading the charge. My quick feet and quicker hands have sealed many a win, but my hunger is never sated. There is always more to prove.
The ref's whistle pierces the din and we line up for the faceoff. My muscles coil, ready to explode into action. As the puck drops, my world narrows to this moment. I tune out the chaos and see only my target. I am precision personified, every movement honed through endless repetition.
I flick my wrist and watch the puck sail true, bulging the net. The red light flashes as the crowd erupts. My teammates mobme, but I've already moved on. Another point closer to victory, another step toward greatness.
This is my obsession. My gift. My curse.
I'm dripping in sweat by the time practice ends, my muscles burning pleasantly from the exertion. I hit the showers, letting the hot water wash away the grime.
"Yo Ty, we're heading to Sam's to celebrate the win. You in?" my buddy Alex calls out.
"Yeah, just give me a few minutes," I reply. Hockey isn't just my passion, it's my brothers' too. We live and breathe this sport together.
I towel off and throw on some clothes, then meet the guys by the parking lot. We're an eclectic bunch, coming from all walks of life, but hockey united us. On the ice, we're a singular force, in sync in a way few can comprehend.
At Sam's, the drinks are already flowing. We retell highlights from the game, trash talking and reliving each goal. Laughter and shouts fill the bar as we let loose. Under the haze of alcohol, we bare our souls in a way we never could sober.
"I don't know what I'd do without you knuckleheads," I say, feeling a rush of emotion. They clap me on the back, echoing the sentiment.
For all my solitary training, these are the moments I live for. My team, my brothers. Each of us chasing glory, but finding so much more. This is the dream realized.
My laughter fades as the guys start reminiscing about past seasons. A familiar ache settles in my chest, a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction that haunts me.
I glance around the bar, taking in the scene—my teammates flushed with triumph, people clustered around tables laughing, the hum of spirited conversation. I should feel elated, fulfilled. This is everything I thought I wanted.
Yet, an emptiness yawns within me. My ambitions achieved, yet somehow the promise of those dreams has faded. I excel at everything I pursue—hockey, academics. I even maintain an active social life. By all accounts, I'm living the ideal life.
But alone at night, an insidious whisper fills my mind—is this all there is?
CHAPTER
TWO
Tyler
I stride onto the ice,skates carving the frozen surface. The cold air bites my cheeks. My muscles are coiled springs ready to unleash. I've trained years for this moment. My scholarship was my ticket to college. All that matters is the game.
The puck drops. I explode forward, blows raining down on the other players. They try to stop me but I slip through their grasp like smoke. My eyes never leave the puck. I tune out the crowd and the pain. Only the goal exists.
I deke left and cut right, flying past the defense. The goalie braces but he's no match for my blistering slapshot. The puck screams into the net. Another point for me. But I don't celebrate. I skate back and prepare for the next faceoff, focused and ready. This is why I'm here. Hockey is my lifeblood. Nothing else matters but the endless rush of competition.
The buzzer sounds and I leave the ice, muscles pumping with adrenaline. I've proven myself again today but I'm already thinking about the next game. There's always room for improvement on the endless road to success.
I'm walking back from practice, focused only on improving my game, when a flash of red catches my eye. I turn and spot a girl across the street, her shoulder-length crimson hair shining in the sun. She's petite with pale, flawless skin and piercing sapphire eyes lined with long lashes. I'm struck by her beauty—it's electric, visceral. I can't look away.
Everything else fades as I drink her in. The noise of the traffic dulls to a murmur. People stream past unnoticed. It's only her. I devour every detail—the curve of her lips, painted ruby red. Her delicate collarbone peeking from her shirt. The shape of her body in those tight jeans. Desire courses through me, hot and urgent.
I imagine running my hands through that scarlet hair, clutching her hips, pressing my mouth to the tender skin of her neck. I want to possess her, consume her, make hermine. She ignites something primal within me that I've never felt before. This feels bigger than lust or infatuation. More dangerous.Obsessive. My hands tremble with need.
