Rivals On Ice

By the time Noah reached the university, morning had already settled in fully, bright and indifferent to everything he had endured just hours before. the school felt like a different world entirely, much too normal and too untouched. He knew he was late and he didn’t need to check the time to confirm that it was already past eight.

His legs seemed to drag, and his mind was still clinging somewhere between the silent peril of the night and the freshness of the morning. He didn’t stop, he just walked faster until he reached  the athletic building and went straight for Coach Jenkins’ office. He knocked once, then pushed the door open.

Coach Jenkins looked up immediately and for a split second, there was mild annoyance in his expression, but it shifted immediately into something closer to approval once his eyes landed on Noah.

“Nearly missed it, Hayes,” Coach Jenkins said. There was no real bite in his tone. It was more observation than reprimand.

“Sorry, coach,” Noah replied, his voice rough around the edges. He was still catching his breath, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the run or everything else. “Had something to take care of.”

Jenkins studied him for a moment before he nodded. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. Come on. I’ll introduce you.” He got on his feet, grabed his whistle from the desk, and motioned for Noah to follow him.

The ice rink hit him like a shock. Cold, bright and alive. And in that moment, Noah could glimpse his future. The team was already on the rink, fast and brutal, sharp scrape of skates against ice cut through the air, the clash of sticks and the bang of bodies into the side boards. Every pass, every shift, every impact carried purpose.

“Black Ice,” Coach Jenkins said, a note of pride threading through his voice as they approached the rink. “Best damn team you’ll ever be on.”

Noah didn’t respond, but his eyes tracked the players carefully, absorbing everything.

Coach Jenkins blew his whistle. The sharp sound sliced through the noise instantly, and the players slowed, turned, and skated toward the edge where Jenkins and Noah stood. One by one, they gathered, their attention shifting to Noah with a curious, skeptical and amusing eyes.

“Listen up, Ladies,” Jenkins said. “This is Noah Hayes. Scholarship recruit. He will be joining the team.”

A ripple of murmurs and glances moved through them, then Jenkins frowned suddenly as he scanned the group. “Where the hell is Chase?”

“Here, coach.”

The voice came from behind. Even and familiar, hitting Noah like a punch to the chest and he turned sharply. Chase stepped into view from the direction of the locker rooms, pulling on his gloves with casual precision. He was relaxed and confident, but the moment his eyes landed on Noah, the recognition struck like a spark to gasoline.

“That’s him?” Chase said slowly, his tone sharp with mockery. “The scholarship kid?”

The words came as an insult to Noah and his jaw tightened. He turned to face Chase , something rebellious swelling up in spite of the exhaustion pressing him down. Then, almost deliberately, he tilted his head slightly.

“Coffee guy, right?”

The rink went quiet and Chase’s jaw twitched, something dark flickering across his expression as he took a step forward. “It’s captain to you, newbie,” he said, his voice low, controlled and possessive.

Tension snapped into place like a wire pulled too tight and it seemed like something was about to break before Coach Jenkins stepped in.

“Enough.” he said, his tone firm. “Chase, you’ll treat him like any other teammate. Understood?” He paused, then added, “His stats are better than any of you.”

Chase didn’t look away from Noah when he answered. “Sure, coach,” he said, the words were easy, but the look in his eyes was anything but. After a second, his expression shifted.

“What position do you play?” he asked, tone deceptively calm.

“Right wing,” Noah replied immediately, eyes fixed on Chase. “But I am good anywhere.”

Some of the players exchanged glances at his confidence, or arrogance and a slow, threatening smile spread across Chase’s face. Without breaking eye contactm he reached over, grabbed a helmet from a teammate, and shoved it into Noah’s chest. Noah seized it with a grunt, and his fingers closed around it.

“Then show me,” Chase said amused. “Let’s see those stats on the ice, newbie.” He turned, already slipping on his own helmet as he pushed off and skated back onto the rink.

“Someone get the scholarship kid geared up,” he called over his shoulder. “Let’s see how good he is anywhere.” he paused, then added as he turned around to face Noah. “He’s playing goalie.”

A ripple of reaction went through the team as they joined their captain on the ice, some amused, some wary. Noah’s eyes narrowed into silts. Goalie. That was not his position, not even anywhere near and almost instantly he could sense that this was no test, this was a set up.  His gaze flicked briefly to Jenkins, who stood watching, arms crossed. He did not look like a man interested in intervening. Not just yet.

Chase circled on the ice, tapping his stick lightly as his eyes locked onto Noah. “Let’s see those stats on the ice,” he called out. “Or are they just numbers on paper?”

Noah took a slow breath, rolled his shoulders, and began to strap the gear on. His body ached, and his mind was ragged, but there was something stubborn and unyielding that burned beneath it.  He strapped up and came out on the ice, the chill stung through his body and brought him to his senses. Good. He needed that. He took position in front of the goal, tightening his grip on the stick, and grounding himself.

Across from him, Chase waited about a second before he pushed off, the rest of the team spreading out behind him. Something in the way they moved told Noah this was no ordinary practice and he felt it before the first puck even moved. The shot came fast and direct, and it was not aimed to score, but to hit. He barely blocked it in time, the force rattling through his arms. Some laughed but Chase did not, he just watched.

“Again.” he said coldly.

The shots that followed flew in more quicker, harder and faster. His muscles twitched as he blocked and deflected. His breathing picked up, and his movements sharpening under the pressure. Then he noticed they were not holding back and they were not trying to score either. They were trying to break him. He looked over at coach Jenkins on the outside, hands still crossed and eyes focused on him.

Chase skated closer, slower this time, that smirk still playing on his lips. He stopped just a few feet away, tapping his stick lightly against the ice as he leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only Noah could hear. “Let’s see how long you last, Hayes.”

Noah’s gaze narrowed on Chase , finally understanding something with chilling clarity. This wasn’t about hockey, this was about dominance, about control, about seeing how far he could be pushed before he snapped. And he smirked. If captain coffee guy here thinks he can shoot him down on his first day, he was about to be very wrong.