Page 14 of Puck with Karma
A whistle blows long and hard from the sidelines, forcing everyone to stop what they’re doing.
“Hamilton!” Coach Harris’ voice booms across the ice. “This is not a daydreaming session,” he yells at me for everyone tohear. A couple of players start snickering at hearing that. “You gonna skate or what?”
He follows that by blowing the whistle once again to get us back to moving. With a determined look, I get in the position and go after all the ones who just laughed at me.
“Fuck,” I hear one of them muttering under his breath when I manage to steal the puck and run with it. In the corner of my eye, I see someone else approaching me to take the puck away from me. I turn sideways, never losing track of where I’m going, my skates and stick just gliding effortlessly.
With a smooth move, I barely lift the stick off the ice, then launch the puck into the net. The light comes on and the buzzer goes off to signal that I scored.
“Johnson, goddamn it,” Coach is losing it on the goalie. “Are you asleep there? He was coming right at you!”
They start yelling at each other, but I don’t care. I did what I was supposed to do, and that is all I care about. The large clock on the wall shows that practice is now over.
“That was good,” a gruff and heavily accented voice calls from next to me.
Aleksey Sokolov is our Russian giant. He looks and acts like he could break someone in two without even trying, and he loves scaring people with just his sheer size. On ice, he is a force to be reckoned with. We’ve had an incredible season since he joined, and our path to the cup is clear.
“Thanks, man,” I now tell him, holding my gloved fist up for us to bump.
“But the coach is right,” he continues as if I never said a word. “You were daydreaming against the boards instead of playing.”
His words make me scowl at no one in particular. I know he is right, I was distracted, but I hate that he is calling me out on it.
“If we are to win the cup, you need to focus. Focus is everything,” he continues to lecture me.
I don’t say another word to him. Instead, I skate my way over to the exit, ignoring everyone else in my path.
“Hamilton,” Coach barks at me. I was hoping he’d leave me alone for once. “My office, now. Skates and all.”
I almost sneer into his face when he says that. But I know nothing good would come out of it. Instead, I step off the ice and make my way toward the coach’s office. With all my gear still on, I look huge, and people coming from the opposite direction stir out of my way when they see I’m not heading toward the lockers. Because I am never in a good mood when I am called to the office right after a practice skate.
Sweat is running down my head, almost getting into my eyes, and my hair feels completely damp. I am just about to snap the helmet off my head when I catch sight of blond hair. It is so bright, I can’t help but taking a second look. And that’s when I freeze in the middle of the hallway.
“What the fuck,” I mutter out loud, then start marching directly toward the figure I see in the corner. I’d recognize that face anywhere, mostly because I rubbed one out last night while thinking of her.
“You’re fuckin’ stalking meherenow?” I get right to business as soon as I am close enough for her to hear.
When she turns to see who’s talking, the surprise is clear on her face. She squints her eyes a bit, almost as if she is trying to place me. Nice try.
“Maybe I should’ve pressed charges last night when you broke into my building,” I continue, ignoring the gasps of shock sounding around us.
“I…” She tries to speak, but nothing comes out.
“You fuckin’ reporters never know when to stop,” I continue. “Just hounding us like we’re a piece of meat.”
“I’d say,” someone speaks from the back of the group, but I completely ignore them, my eyes focused solely on her. I amblinded by rage and also by this wild attraction I feel when I look at her. Despite my rage, I could fuck her into next week if we were alone right now.
“I… I…” she tries again. Her eyes fill with water, making them look brighter, the color making me lose my mind on the spot. Not that I want to make her cry, but she looks more beautiful like this.
“Hamilton,” Coach Harris snaps at me from behind. I don’t turn to look since I am busy staring at my beautiful stalker. “What the hell are you doing yelling at our new interns?”
I didn’t think anything could surprise me at this point, but his words cause a bit of a short circuit to happen in my brain. I straighten back up, looking taller yet. Everyone is a midget in comparison since the skates add more height on top of what nature already blessed me with.
“You’re an intern for the Cats?” I bark at her, refusing to give in.
A smile almost breaks on my face when I see the way she is trying to regroup. She pulls her shoulders back, preparing for battle, even though she still looks like she might cry at any second.
“I am.” Her voice sounds strong now.
