The Problem With Valdez

Chapter Three — The Problem With Valdez

Beck woke up irritated.

He didn't know why.

Well.

That wasn't entirely true.

He knew exactly why.

Aitor Valdez.

Beck stared at his ceiling, remembering yesterday's game.

The goal.

The victory.

The way Aitor had looked at him afterward.

Next time, we win.

Beck rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

He got out of bed.

Today was supposed to be easy.

Practice.

Classes.

Practice again.

Nothing complicated.

Nothing worth thinking about.

And definitely nothing involving Aitor.

At least, that was the plan.

By the time Beck arrived at school, the entire hockey team was already talking about the tournament.

"Did you see the rankings?"

Mason shoved his phone toward him.

Beck looked.

Their school had moved up.

Westbridge High — #4

He smiled.

"Nice."

"And look who's right behind us."

Beck's smile disappeared.

St. Aurelia Academy — #5

"Of course."

Mason laughed.

"You really hate that guy."

"I don't hate him."

"You've said his name fourteen times since yesterday."

"That's because he keeps showing up."

"He's on another team."

"Exactly. He should stay there."

Mason shook his head.

"You two are weird."

Beck grabbed his bag.

"Let's practice."

The rink was quieter than usual that afternoon.

Most of the tournament teams had the day off.

Westbridge didn't.

Their coach believed that winning wasn't something you waited for.

You worked for it.

Beck was halfway through a drill when the doors opened.

He heard voices.

Several players walked into the rink.

Beck turned.

St. Aurelia.

His stomach dropped.

Not because he was nervous.

Because he was annoyed.

Their coach spoke briefly with Beck's coach before the visiting team began moving toward the opposite side.

Apparently, the arena had been double-booked.

Both teams were practicing.

Together.

"You're kidding," Mason whispered.

Beck stared across the ice.

Aitor was removing his gloves.

He looked up.

Saw Beck.

And smiled.

Not a big smile.

Just enough.

Beck immediately looked away.

His coach blew the whistle.

"Hayes! Focus!"

"I'm focused."

"Then show me."

Beck pushed off.

Hard.

He flew around the rink.

Faster.

Faster.

He didn't notice Aitor watching him.

He didn't notice the slight smile disappear from Aitor's face.

And he definitely didn't notice that Aitor was doing exactly the same thing on the other side of the rink.

Trying to skate faster.

Trying to prove something.

Neither of them would have admitted what.

After practice, Beck headed toward the locker room.

He was tired.

Sweaty.

Ready to go home.

Then he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hayes."

He stopped.

Aitor.

Beck sighed.

"What?"

"You dropped this."

Aitor held out Beck's glove.

Beck stared at it.

Then at him.

"Oh."

He took it.

"Thanks."

Aitor nodded.

Beck turned to leave.

"Wait."

Beck looked back.

"What now?"

Aitor hesitated.

"You were fast today."

Beck raised an eyebrow.

"Are you complimenting me again?"

"No."

"Sounded like it."

"I was making an observation."

"Right."

Aitor looked away.

"You're good."

Beck smiled.

"So are you."

The words came out before Beck could stop them.

Aitor looked back at him.

For a second, neither moved.

Then Beck cleared his throat.

"Don't let it go to your head."

Aitor smiled.

"Too late."

Beck laughed despite himself.

Only for a second.

Then he remembered who he was talking to.

"See you tomorrow, Valdez."

"See you, Hayes."

Beck walked away.

This time, he didn't feel angry.

And somehow, that bothered him more than anything else.

Because enemies weren't supposed to make you laugh.

They weren't supposed to compliment each other.

And they definitely weren't supposed to leave you wondering when you'd see them again.