Page 28 of Lines

When did my life become so damn complicated?

Sighing in frustration, I run my fingers through my tousled hair.

It’s time for me to stop fussing like a girl and concentrate on the job that’s waiting to be done. Plays won’t run themselves. The puck won’t get in the net on its own.

Just as I turn around to go to the ice, somebody crashes into my side in the passing.

“What the hell was that for?” My eyes narrow at Sanders who goes to his locker on the other side of the room.

He looks at me over his shoulder, that special douchebag gleam in his eyes as he shrugs.

“My bad.”

There is not even a drop of remorse in his voice or stance.

The need to punch him in the face, maybe even break his nose in the process, is nearly overwhelming. How satisfying would it be to hear the bones crack and see the blood flow on that pretty face? If I mess up his pretty mug maybe Amelia won’t feel so comfortable around him like she does at the moment.

Guys begin leaving the locker room and going to the ice. The coach is already out there, talking to the assistants. As soon as we gather, Coach blows the whistle and the practice starts. There is no easing into practice. Coach wants us to play fast and hard. No playing around, no forgiving or going easy on each other or other teams.

Every game is important—a simple practice as much as the championship game. Every game leads to where we want to be, number one, the place that doesn’t tolerate slackers nor mistakes.

We work on our skating, passing, and scoring, individually, in pairs, groups, and as a team.

The season is just beginning so there is still time for Coach to make changes in lines. Nobody is safe, and we all have to give our very best, perform on our highest level if we plan on sticking around.

I’m standing in the row, waiting for my turn to do this drill. It’s something new Coach came up with over the summer. Basically, it consists of center—which would be me—doing some crazy turns to confuse my opponent. I go sharp right but shoot left where Drew is waiting for the puck. While our opponents are busy looking around for the puck, I slip through their fingers and get the puck back in time to come in front of the net.

With my crazy luck lately, of course Sanders is also trying out for center position.

He just finished the drill, and he’s better than I’d like to admit, even if only to myself.

Rationally, I know he’ll be a good asset to the team, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept it. Sharing classes and seeing the guy around the school is hard enough. Going to practices, seeing him in the gym, traveling around with him... it’ll be a real nightmare.

Sanders goes to the back of the row, but just as he skates by, his shoulder scratches mine, shoving me backwards.

“What’s your problem dude?” I stand in his way, skate to skate, not letting it slide the second time in a couple of hours. I shove him back, not even caring that Coach is just a few feet away, most likely watching the whole thing.

“No problem,dude.” He grins smugly at me, completely unaffected by my rising anger. “Just wanted to make some things clear, because you obviously don’t listen when the girl tells you no.”

“What are you talking about?”

If he thinks what I think he thinks, we’ll have a big problem.

Who does he think he is? Being around Amelia for all of five minutes doesn’t make him an expert on her.

“What I’m saying is, if I see you make Lia cry one more time, you’ll answer to me.”

My gloved hands clench into fists by my side. The stick in my right hand cuts into my skin.

“What does that have to do with you?”

“It has everything to do with me. She’s my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her.”

“Is that everything she is to you?” I grit my teeth hard. “A friend?”

“What if she’s more?” He smirks, challenging me.

I can’t stand it anymore. Can’t stand him.

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