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My core clenches and a wave of tingles ripples over me. That’s really not a thought I should be indulging in.
I swallow thickly. “He, uh, might be some people’s type …”
“A new love interest?” Olivia asks, teasing in her voice.
The question makes me feel a liquid heat in my center, but it also makes me laugh. “He doesn’t strike me as the romantic type. Honestly,” I sigh, realizing there’s no way around the word, “he was kind of … sort of … a jerk.”
Olivia takes off her sunglasses so I can see her round eyes bulging in shock. “He must have been abominable to make a bad impression on you.”
“I’m sure he was just having a bad day,” I hurry to say, already kind of feeling bad about calling him a jerk. “He’ll be nicer next class. Probably.”
Olivia chuckles. “What’s he in the paper for?”
I angle the page for her to read. “New goalie for the hockey team.”
Olivia snorts derisively. “Hockey team? Yeah, no wonder he was a jerk.”
Olivia has a longstanding vendetta against the hockey team. All hockey teams, actually—really, it’s more like her vendetta is against hockey players. She had a terrible experience dating one in high school, and she’s never let it go.
My phone vibrates next to me. I pick it up, and prickles of annoyance skitter up and down my back when I see the text notification.
It’s from my ex, Sean. Let’s have coffee between classes tomorrow.
No, thanks. I really have no idea how to express to him any more clearly that I have zero interest in rekindling our relationship.
My stomach still drops whenever I remember the moment he told me he wanted to temporarily open up our relationship just so he could screw his way through Europe over the summer.
No matter what Sean says, I do have an open mind, and I know some people are into that sort of thing. If it works for them, fine. But it absolutely would not work for me, and if Sean didn’t realize that, then he didn’t know me nearly as well as I thought he did—or, more likely, he just didn’t care.
I turn my phone all the way off and then for good measure set it face down. I fold up the student paper and lay that to the other side.
I let my limbs lie limp and close my eyes, soaking up the sun and trying to relax.
It only takes about five minutes to get the mental image of the grumpy goalie who sits next to me in English class out of my head.
4
HUDSON
Everyone’s hyped up and excited in the locker room after practice. They’re all laughing, joking around, acting ridiculous, like a group of fourth grade boys on a field trip. Tuck and the freshman on the second line, Jamie O’Donnell, are even having a towel fight, running around the locker room and snapping the rolled-up towels at each other.
I’m turned away from them, looking at my locker as I strip off my pads.
“Holy shit, Hudson!” Tuck breaks away from his towel fight to jump onto the bench in front of my locker. “You were on fucking fire out there! I’m still pissed at you that you didn’t let even one of my shots through, but fuck me if that don’t bode well for this season.”
“For real, dude,” Rhys says, sauntering up, stripped of everything but his tight boxer-briefs. “This was just a practice, but you were playing like it was the Stanley fucking Cup.”
I play every game, even every practice, like it’s the most important of my life. Like my entire future depends on it. Like letting even one shot through would be enough to ruin everything I’ve worked for my whole life.
That’s how my dad taught me to play.
If I want to make it as an NHL goalie, that’s how I have to play. That’s what my mindset needs to be. There are far fewer opportunities for goalies to make it in the NHL than any other position. If I want to make it, I can’t let myself slack for even a second.
I only let one shot hit the back of the net during this practice session, and I’m still kicking myself over it.
It was a tricky backhand shot from our left forward, Carter Prescott. The guy’s got a totally unorthodox style. He’s got a lot of flaws and makes a lot of mistakes, but every now and then he’ll pull off a play that no one else could.
For a goalie, it’s the most unpredictable players that often give you more trouble than the most skilled ones.
