Page 1 of The Love Penalty

ONE

Olivia

September

Haveyou ever had that feeling that things are about to change? I don’t know if things are about to become better or worse, but I know with certainty that this season is going to be different. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

I’ve only been on the ice for twenty minutes and my legs are already killing me. I should have skated more over the summer break. Instead, I worked two jobs so I could save money for the upcoming season. As a hockey officiant at the EHL level, I get paid per game, which means my income is highly variable. There are some months where I get to officiate more than fifteen games, and others where I only officiate one or two.

That means I need to either find a part time job during certain months, or work extra hard during the offseason so I can have savings to fall back on. Since I chose to work myself dead this summer, I haven’t had the chance to join any stick and puck practices or participate in beer league games as I normally would.

I am out of shape and all the gear on me is making me uncomfortable. My hockey pants are frayed and my gloves have big holes in them, but I’ve been frugal all summer. Maybe once I find out my officiating schedule I can afford some new gear.

I’ve never been an amazing hockey player, but I have always loved the game. It’s something my dad and I had in common. Every time our NHL team in Minnesota would play, my dad would turn the TV really loud, grab us both frozen dinners, and we would watch the game together. On paydays, he would get pizza and pop. I’ve kept that tradition going even now that he’s gone, although eating pizza and watching games by myself is really fucking sad.

“Liv, you’re up!” Amelia’s shouting breaks me out of my thoughts and I hop the wall to take her spot as the center. I despise it when she calls me Liv. I despise nicknames in general.

I’m slower than usual and I definitely should have stretched before playing in this beer league tonight. Mark sends a puck my way, and just like every other pass tonight, I miss it. My frustration is building. I haven’t been this bad since I was in middle school and my dad would take me to stick and puck practices and get me to join little leagues.

“Chin up, Livie!” Amelia says as I finish my shift and take a seat on the bench again. I swear if she calls me anything other than Olivia one more time I will snap.

“Everything okay with you?” Mark asks as he takes a seat next to me. “You seem distracted tonight. Can’t say I’ve ever seen you miss a pass, you’re usually wiping the ice with us.”

His comment surprises me and I huff a laugh. “I’m fine, just tired and out of practice, I guess.”

“Have you been working two jobs over the summer?”

I nod. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“How’s your grandma doing?” Mark asks as we both scoot down the bench and more people shuffle on and off the ice.

I roll my eyes. “She’s fine. Same old, you know, refuses to move in with me, says she’s fine living with her two other seventy-year-old roommates, baking cookies, and crocheting all hours of the day.”

Mark laughs, and it startles me so much I jump in my seat a little. I always forget how loud he can be. He’s unfiltered too, and always asks me personal questions. Not that I’m judging the guy or anything, I’m sure he’s a wonderful person, but he is just not my type. He’s too chatty, too bubbly, and too loud. I’m pretty sure I’ve said all of this to his face before, but he’s pretty relentless and insists on getting to know me. He always asks me tohang out, and I always give him the same answer: not interested.

It’s not that he’s not handsome, because he is. He’s got dark brown hair and brown eyes with pretty, long lashes. He’s 5’11”, which is about three extra inches taller than me, and he has a nice smile. I just can’t get over his personality, and the fact that all he wants is to hook up.

While I may not be the most affectionate and open woman out there, hooking up has never been my style. I need an emotional connection before I can take that extra step with a guy. My last and only boyfriend was in college and after that nasty break-up, I haven’t been inclined to date much. Besides, with my traveling and hectic schedule during the hockey season, I don’t have time to date.

After another forty minutes of epic failure on the ice, I’m in the locker room, packing everything up and getting ready to leave.

There are only a handful of girls in our amateur league and the tiny arena we play at doesn’t have a women’s locker room. That means we have to share one with all of the guys. I’m so used to being around naked guys by now that I’ve learned how to keep my head down so I don’t accidentally get flashed whenthey get out of the shower. While I’ve become insensitive to the nakedness around me, I don’t want to reveal myself, so I always skip the shower and take one at home.

I listen to the conversations going on around me but refrain from joining in. Truth is, I’ve never been great at making friends and keeping them. While I am friendly with most of the people in this locker room, my quiet and lonesome personality always makes me the odd woman out. I used to go out with them in the beginning, until I realized I was too awkward to insert myself into the conversation and none of them made the effort to include me. So instead of quietly sitting at a table with a bunch of people around me, I’d rather sit at home and maybe get lost in a fictional world.

Once everyone files out of the room, I see Mark hovering around. “Some of us are going over to The Logan for a drink, do you wanna join us?” he asks me, wiggling his eyebrows.

I sigh. “Not tonight, Mark. I need to get some sleep.”

“I’m sure a couple drinks can help with that,” he says, getting so close to me I can smell the sweat coming off every pore. “Besides, you can stay over at my place if you don’t want to drive.”

His hand reaches up and pushes my sweaty locks away from my face. “I also have a working shower that we can jump into, together,” he says, licking his lower lip in a gesture that I think he means to be sexy, but in actuality, it makes him look like he’s drooling.

I internally cringe, and I’m sure he can see it on my face. I’ve never been able to hide my expressions, and right now my face probably saysew, what the fuck?

My hand reaches up to his and I lightly slap it away. With a huff, I say, “Not happening, Mark. Please stop suggesting it.”

He backs away and I can see the irritation on his face. For a moment I think he is going to walk away and leave it be, but ashe reaches the locker room door he turns back to me and says, “You know what Olivia? You might be hot but you’re not worth the chase. Have fun hanging out by yourself all the time, I’m sure it’s super fun.”

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