Completed | First draft | cliche | unedited
Book 1 - can be read as a standalone.
• • •
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
First comes love,
Then comes marriage,
Then comes a baby sitting in a carriage!
You know the rhyme, right?
That's how it goes but we all know li...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sweat drips down the planes of my back, muscles contracting. The ice bites beneath my blades, the cool kiss of the rink bouncing off my padded body.
My stick rests lazily in one hand while the puck is clutched in the other. I look through my helmet at the man swaying between the posts of the goal. Jason nods his head at me, green eyes focused.
"C'mon Tobias, I don't have all day."
I grunt, my glove twisting tightly around the handle of the stick as I drop the puck to the ground.
It rocks slightly, shaves of ice bouncing up from the floor as it hits, the sound of it slapping the ice loud in the mostly empty stadium.
Jason smirks at me from the other side, his smile an odd sight with the mouth guard in his mouth. He hits the stick twice against the ice.
"C'mon, pretty boy." He sings, adding a southern drawl to the taunt.
I hiss a laugh through my own mouth guard and slide my stick along the ice, lining up the shot, my eyes flicking to the lowest left spot on the net.
Jason crouches down more, "Oh, pretty boy." He sings.
I grunt as I slide my stick back and slap it against the ground, the edge slicing ice from the floor with the momentum before it connects with the puck.
Jason dives to his right, and my left, stick outstretched to capture the puck before it slides into the goal. The puck slides right by him, through the side he left exposed.
I straiten, laughing through my mouth guard as he slaps to the ground, green eyes on the puck as it slaps against the net and stills.
"You have to stop believing peoples tells when they look at the net, Jason."
"Yeah well," He grunts as he stands up, swiping the puck up and throwing it in the air before capturing it in his gloved fist. "This was just practice."
"You're lucky you take it seriously when we actually play." I tell him, skating towards him and swiping the puck from the air when he throws it up. "Lets go again, this time take it seriously."
"Yes, Captain." He salutes, situating himself in front of the net once more.
I drop the puck, skating back to get a clear advantage as I test my shots.
Jason and I train for an hour, switching between goalie and testing our quick-shots and just mucking about on the ice.
The feeling is freeing, to just hit the ice and not have any expectations laid upon you.
But that was for now, with the off season.
"You bitches going to get off the ice anytime soon?" A new voice echoes through the stadium.
