HAYDENCoach’s whistle was particularly shrill that morning. We opened with laps, then dove into a gauntlet of passing drills that demanded quick touches and quicker decisions. My legs felt good.My brain was clear in a way it hadn’t been in months, which made zero sense after a late night, but that was the truth. I was over the moon.We moved to a breakout drill, and I called the play before anyone else could, snapping the puck up the boards, cutting through the neutral zone, slashing back to receive a saucer pass, then threading it across the slot for Logan to hammer home.The play was a beauty to behold, and the fact that we successfully pulled that off was a testament to how in sync we were as a team.“Again,” Coach barked, but there was the ghost of a smile in his voice.See? Even Coach was impressed with us, even though he was trying so hard not to make it obvious.We ran it three more times, tighter each run. When we shifted to special teams, I took point at the half wall. The
HAYDENI didn’t turn the radio on during the drive back.The car was quiet except for the whisper of the heater and the little clicks from the engine as it settled between stoplights. My hands were light on the wheel, the kind of loose you only get after a game-winning goal or, apparently, after kissing a girl you’ve been thinking about for months.Every time my brain replayed that soft goodnight at the car door, I felt the same ridiculous floaty rush in my chest. When I pulled into my lot, I sat there for a full minute, both hands on the wheel, my forehead resting against the back of my knuckles like a moron with a grin he couldn’t control. Then I laughed out loud, which startled me enough that I finally grabbed my bag and climbed out.Inside the apartment, Jason was exactly where I expected him, on my couch with one ankle propped on a knee, game controller in hand, a half-empty bag of chips abandoned next to him like a crime scene. He glanced up as the door shut and immediately pa
HAYDENI stared at the open closet like it held the answer to life’s deepest mysteries. Which, in a way, it did. If I got this wrong, Coleen would probably still go on the date, but I’d know, and she’d know. And Jason, who was currently sprawled on my couch eating my last bag of chips, would definitely know.“Dude, it’s dinner. Not the NHL Awards,” Jason called, crunching obnoxiously loud.“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, holding up two button-downs. “Blue or white?”Jason rolled his eyes. “They’re both shirts, Hayden. Put one on your body and call it a night.”I glared at him in the mirror. “You’re no help.”“You’re stressing way too much. She already said yes, didn’t she?” He sat up, brushing crumbs off his hoodie. “Newsflash, that means she likes you. You don’t need to turn this into some GQ cover shoot.”I hesitated, glancing between the shirts again. “Still… I don’t wanna mess it up.”Jason stood, walked over, and plucked the blue one from my hand. “This one. Trust me. And for
COLEENBy the time I reached the apartment, my cheeks hurt from grinning. I fumbled with my keys, dropped them twice, then burst inside to the smell of cinnamon, the smell of Mark’s candle, and the faint echo of a guitar riff from his room.“Mark?” I called, toeing off my boots.“Bedroom!” he answered, then the riff cut off, and he padded into the living room in socks and a hoodie with the band’s name splashed across the front. He took one look at my face and set the guitar aside. “You’re either about to cry or you’ve just discovered puppies on campus.”“Neither.” I shrugged off my coat, suddenly bashful in a way I hadn’t been since middle school. “Hayden asked me out. Like, on a real date, and I said yes.”Mark didn’t squeal, he wasn’t Alicia, but his smile was all bright teeth and proud eyes. “Finally.”I threw a pillow at him. “What do you mean, finally?”“Please. The trajectory has been obvious since the party-that-shall-not-be-named.” He flopped onto the couch and patted the cus
COLEENBy the time Hayden walked into the athletic complex lobby, the building had gone quiet in that way it always did just before closing. The fluorescent lights hummed. The vending machine made its sad little whirr in the corner. Somewhere down the hall, a lone basketball bounced, then rolled, then settled.I had my elbows on the counter, pretending to care about the clipboard schedule I’d already checked three times. Which is to say, I was minding my business and absolutely not rehearsing what I’d say if he happened to show up.Then he did.He looked annoyingly good for someone who’d just finished practice, hair damp, cheeks flushed, duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’d been born with it attached. His eyes found mine almost instantly, like they always did now, and my stomach did that headfirst slide it had been practicing ever since the late-night skate.“Well, if it isn’t Hockey Nerd,” I said, because if there was ever a moment to lean on tradition, it was this one.He
HAYDENAt this point, it’s like every practice got progressively worse because what the hell was this torture?Everything ached so much that I couldn’t even tell if any of my muscles were spared.Coach was determined to make the playoffs and possibly have a chance at winning the Stanley Cup this year.I had to be honest, though, he wasn’t the only one who had that dream. Everyone on the team was just as hungry for that win. That was why none of us complained when he extended practice times. It was a sacrifice we were willing to make to secure that victory.Coach’s whistle cut through the air, sharp enough to make my shoulders tense.“Michaels! Keep your head in the game!”“Yeah, sorry, Coach!” I called back, even though I wasn’t really sorry.Because the truth was… my head wasn’t in the game. It was somewhere else entirely. More specifically, on someone who was in her apartment, curled up on the couch, texting me during some movie night with Mark.Coleen.At this point, I don’t even b