Page 21 of What Are The Odds?
Grace smiled. “The beach and my brothers.”
“Are you still close with them?”
She nodded. “We talk every day.”
When her song ended and mine began, the shift in tone was awkward. At least for me. Grace furrowed her forehead as she tried to piece together the song.
“Motley Crue?” she questioned, laughing. “This is random.”
“They played Kickstart Your Heart when we won the national title last year,” I explained. “Even over the screams of the crowd and the team, I could hear it clear as day. Whenever I hear it now, I remember that feeling when the buzzer went off and we became champions.”
Grace’s smile was so sincere it was disarming. “That’s an amazing memory, Levi.”
For me, there wasn’t anything better. Hockey was my life. Which is why I couldn’t fuck this up. I needed the football team gone so my guys could focus on their game. Gym fights and petty distractions wouldn’t help us win a championship again.
11. No distractions
Levi.
I’d just stepped out the shower, towel tied around my waist, when the assistant coach strolled into the change room. His eyes searched the guys. I did my best to blend into the background, praying he wasn’t looking for me. No such luck. His gaze locked on mine.
“Coach wants to see you, Holloway.”
Great. I pulled on my hoodie and sweats before tracking the familiar walkway to Coach’s office. He was sitting behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as he rewatched last weekend’s game. Being our first of the year, there was a lot that could be improved. Our passing accuracy wasn’t great. And we missed almost as many opportunities as we gave up. Still, with last year’s seniors gone and a new wave of freshman coming through, there was bound to be a few teething issues in our first few games. At least we’d bagged two points. A win was a win.
“We have scouts coming to this weekend’s game,” he told me. “Given it’s the first Saturday night home game of the season, it’s expected to sell out.”
Phil-U’s popular hockey program had always drawn a good fanbase. But since securing last year’s Frozen Four victory, the attention had amped up. There was even a dedicated social media team that were always around now, filming our practices, and banter in the locker rooms, and making us film random trends or answer weird questions.
“While it’s not a concern for you, other guys on the team will be banking on getting attention this year.” He leant back in his chair so far I was worried it might break. “I need you to keep them grounded and keep their heads in the game. Especially the new guys. Don’t let the attention get to them.”
“You got it, sir.”
He nodded curtly. I’d spent enough years around Coach to know that meant he was done. Though just as I was stepping through the doorway, he called out my name.
“Yes, sir?”
“You need to keep your head in the game too, son.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “Always has been.”
“Good. Keep it that way. You’re talented enough that hockey can set you up for life, Holloway.”
That was the plan. This was my fourth year under Coach. He literally lived and breathed the game. He was here before any of us arrived, and he left long after we left. I don’t think he had a life outside of this sports program.
“No distractions. Hockey comes first, got it kid?”
I nodded. “I won’t forget, Coach.”
*
I tapped my phone against my lip, staring at the TV. The guys were down a rabbit hole of AFL highlights. We were well and truly hooked. I hadn’t expected the game to end like it had the other night. The final siren had sounded when Adelaide was down by two points, but an on-the-siren-free-kick was called to give them one last chance. They kicked a game winning goal. It was a proper buzzer-beater finish. I’d literally jumped from my seat, almost knocking the drink out of Grace’s hand. At least I’d picked the right team.Herteam. I was taking that as a good omen. We were currently in the fourteenth-minute of a thirty-minute video of the best marks of last season. Some were epic. The players put their bodies on the line, launching high. Not at all phased by the prospect of coming down when they were flying for the ball. I unlocked my phone before scrolling through Grace’s Instagram for what felt like the hundredth time. She didn’t post a whole lot, and whatever photos there were she was always with other people. Posing with her brothers. Standing on a podium with her swimming team. A sunset pic of one of the most epic beaches I’d ever seen. Tripp had mentioned something about her Instagram Story while we were skating this morning. Sure enough, Tripp was already following Grace when I pulled up her account. By lunch, she’d accepted my follow request and requested me back. Progress. Her Instagram Story had been a shared post from a girl named Ava. Grace had been in the background, decked in her swimsuit. She’d winked at the camera before diving into the pool. I pulled up her new number and typed out a message. Here’s hoping she hadn’t shared it with Ryker.
Levi: Hughesy.
Short. Simple. And hopefully effective. When there was only four-minutes left of the highlight video, she wrote back.
Grace: Holloway.
