Page 1 of Bitter Pucking Rivals

CHAPTER ONE

5:35 am

HAYDEN

I like beingup at this hour, when the sun isn’t even out yet and the temperature is at its coldest point of the day. But with fall solidly under way, the dread is beginning to set in. Thanksgiving will be here before I know it, and my life will become a lot more tumultuous than it is right now. There will be no more quiet mornings like this, enjoying some stillness and peace before heading to practice or class. There will be no more watching the sunrise in solitude, free to explore my own thoughts.

Back home, obligations and dinners and family reunions are the source of a lot of my stress. Someone’s always got something to say about you. Someone’s watching to make sure you say the right thing. There’s a lot of small talk and judgment and headaches and—Well, you get the point.

Luckily, I have the regional training camp coming up. That will serve to distract me for the time being, allowing me to forget that soon enough I’ll be heading home to holiday hell.

With midterms having just wrapped up, hockey is about the only thing I have to distract me. Some of my other teammates—like headstrong Dom and overthinking Declan—struggle with the academic requirements of remaining on the team at times. I have plenty of my own problems, but academics aren’t one of them.Hayden Parker, academic achiever and star hockey player. I can hear their voices, sometimes mockingly, sometimes endearingly as the other guys give me crap for having my shit together. Boy oh boy is it going to be a wild ride spending an entire week at training camp with them.

“You ready, Hayden?” Ansel, my roommate, asks me the loaded question as he slings his ridiculously large bag against his shoulder. It must be tough being a goalie and carrying all that extra gear, but Ansel doesn’t seem to mind much. He looks at me with his surprisingly well-rested demeanor and his eyebrows raise at the pathetic sight of me still sitting on my bed. With the way he’s staring at me, you’d think I’d slept until noon. “What are you moping around there for? You’re not sick, are you?” Without respecting my personal space, Ansel places the back of his palm on my forehead.

Almost immediately, I smack his hand away. “Your hand’s way too cold,” I protest, finally standing up but not without a huff. “I’m fine. Don’t get all soft on me, Ansel.”

Not paying him any mind, I reach for my backpack. I’ve got the clothes I need tucked in there with my school supplies, while my hockey bag contains my stick and the gear I need for practice. If there’s one thing I hate about being a student athlete, it’s having to lug all this extra stuff around. In that sense, graduation can’t come soon enough.

“Well, you’re cranky already, so I guess everything’s pretty normal with you, huh?” Ansel teases as I open the door. He closes it behind us and whips out his key, making sure our dorm room is locked.

I roll my eyes at Ansel’s words. “Ha ha. Very funny,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I start to walk towards the elevator. As I do, the dorm room in front of ours opens up as well, and Evan comes out hauling as much luggage as we are. I stop and wait for him, even though I know it’s going to take ages for the elevator to arrive anyway.

Evan locks his own dorm room, and I’m kind of concerned because—last time I checked—he’s rooming with a certain firecracker. He looks at us like there’s nothing wrong, though, while he pockets his keys. “What’s up? Is Hayden having a fit already?”

It’s been four years of me being on a team with some of these guys; I’m used to their ribbing by now. I would even go so far as to say that my day is never complete until I hear at least one remark from one of the guys about me being distant or aloof.

“Yeah. Don’t worry,” Ansel says as him and Evan trail behind me on the way to the elevator. “Maybe some coffee will brighten him up.”

I press the down button and face the two buffoons behind me. “I’m right here, you know,” I say, fully aware that my response will only further serve to rile them up. People have told me that my natural expression looks like I’m about to trip someone on purpose—but what’s a guy meant to do about that? I can’t help that I’m a serious guy. “Besides, where’s your roomie, Evan? Don’t tell me he bailed on this training camp,” I say, watching as the number on the elevator display indicates that the elevator has almost reached our floor.

“Oh, you know him. He woke up extra early today so he can have an extremely early breakfast with Maisie,” Evan tells us. My face scrunches up in disgust at how the usually loud-mouthed and abrasive Dominic is going out of his way to do a cutesy and sweet at 5AM for a woman. A woman! Who would’ve thought?

“You know, I’m beginning to think I don’t know Dom at all. I never would have imagined him doing something that sappy,” I admit, making sure my tone indicates genuine surprise instead of shade. “And I told you guys about how they were acting that time we caught them skating at the arena, right? Look where they are now.”

The elevator opens and we squeeze ourselves in with our bags of gear in tow. Ansel can’t help but scoff at my remark. “I mean, we all kind of saw that coming, didn’t we? He probably was the last person on earth to realize his feelings for Maisie.”

Evan lets out a snicker, shaking his head. “Dude has come far, though.”

“Can we please stop talking about other people’s love lives?” I say, suddenly desperate to change the topic before we go any further with this. “I’m sleep-deprived as it is, and talking about this for too long might put me to sleep.”

Look, I’m not trying to be bitter about this. In fact, I’m genuinely not bitter about it at all. I’m well aware that people might think otherwise given how I act anytime the topic comes up at length, but it’s a long story. A long story that has to do with my fears about dating and whether or not I’ll ever find a woman who can make me feel the way that guys like Dom feel once they find their person. So refusing to talk about it is just easier. It allows me to bury my feelings and my fears, instead dedicating my time to more productive uses of my brain power. Who knows? Maybe if the rest of the guys were less concerned with dating, they wouldn’t struggle with their grades so much. But what do I know? I’m just Hayden the aloof overachiever, perpetually single with no signs of that changing.

CHAPTER TWO

6:07 am

HAYDEN

The cold morningbreeze sends a jolt to our systems as Ansel, Evan, and I haul our asses through the streets of Manhattan. Even with the sun not yet up, there’s still ample hustle and bustle here in New York City. Warm city street lights illuminate the gray pavement we’re walking on and I think of all the people snuggled up with a warm blanket or hot cup of coffee right now. Most of the stores we pass are closed, of course, but there’s still the gentle rumble of the city’s comings and goings as the sun prepares to make its appearance and mark a more figurative start to a new day.

Having grabbed coffee and taken a brisk walk, we end up at back on the confines of campus, our sights set straight on Somerset’s ice rink. As our destination comes into view, we see a massive bus bearing our school crest. It’s waiting right in front of the rink as a man in a button-up and slacks loads a stack of hefty luggage into the bus’s storage. And guess who’s over there, bright-eyed and eager to help the gentleman from the bus company?

I guess it should come as no surprise.

He spots us instantly, almost like he has a sixth sense about where his players are at any given moment. “Well, what do we have here?” Julian says, taking a break from helping load luggage. “I’m glad to see you guys have chosen to be early birds today.” Julian’s smile is warm and there doesn’t seem to be an ounce of exhaustion on his face. I have no idea how he’s brimming with sunshine when the sun itself is still hiding. “Seriously guys,” he continues, patting each one of us on the back, “it’s nice to see you guys taking camp seriously.”

Oh, Julian. Always so polite and positive. Occasionally, his positive demeanor rubs off on me. Julian is totally the kind of guy that’s a positive influence through and through. But it’s too early for positivity today. My body—even after the chilly walk and a fresh cuppa—is craving a quiet corner and a few more hours of sleep. “Okay, Julian,” I say, “you can stop being a dad now.” Carefully, I put my hockey gear inside of the compartment, saving Julian the trouble of helping load the luggage.

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