All Chapters of My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

39 Chapters

Officially Hers

The team bus smelled of rubber, stale upholstery, and the sharp tang of energy drinks. I spent the first twenty minutes of the ride pretending to review my shot list, but my eyes kept drifting. Three rows up, Carlson sat wedged between Remy and a massive duffel bag. He was laughing at something I couldn't hear, his head tilted back, the sharp line of his jaw softened by a genuine smile.Team Analyst.I still hadn't digested the words, even seeing my name printed on the retreat roster Coach Whitman handed me that morning: Cheryl Hart, Team Analyst. Not a videographer. Not the girl who lugged tripods to the bleachers. An actual title.The retreat house sat on a secluded lake an hour outside campus. It was a massive lodge built of exposed timber and stone. The kind of place boosters rented out for programs with deep donor pockets. Behind it lay a private rink, its surface frozen solid and gleaming under the overcast sky.I was hauling my heavy equipment bag up the wooden porch steps

Last Updated : 2026-07-16

No Longer Hiding

Carlson pov.Dylan has been my teammate for three years, and I’d never had a single reason to care about him until I saw him holding that door open for Cheryl, leaning in just a little too close.I promised myself I wouldn't be like Richard. My father treated people like property, demanding total control over everything and everyone in his orbit. I spent my entire life trying to run in the opposite direction of his shadow. But standing on those porch steps, watching Dylan smile at her, a dark possessiveness flared in my chest.I didn't like how it came.I carried her bag anyway. It didn't cure the ugly feeling, but it gave my hands something to do besides balling into fists.By the time Coach called the end of practice, the sun was sinking beneath the tree line, turning the lake a deep, bruised purple. The rest of the guys headed inside for dinner, but Cheryl stayed behind, wrapping cables and packing up her gear. I told Remy I’d catch up and doubled back to the ice."You didn't ha

Last Updated : 2026-07-16

Someone Else's Light

The phone buzzed against my nightstand at eleven. A single text from Brianna, accompanied by an image file.Thought you'd want to see this before it's everywhere.I stared at the screen for a long, quiet minute, waiting for the coldness to set in.It was a photo. Carlson Miller, hand in hand with my sister on the back porch of the retreat lodge. The lake was a dark mirror behind them, the golden hour bleeding over their shoulders. They were lit up in a way I’d never once managed to get out of him in three years of trying.I was used to rejection. It was a currency I knew how to handle. But being cast aside for Cheryl, quiet, limping, forgettable Cheryl, who had spent her entire life collecting dust in whatever shadow I happened to throw, was a humiliation I didn't have the vocabulary to survive.My fingers were steady as I dialed Megan. She picked up on the second ring."She's with him," I said. My voice was too quiet, too flat. "Officially. It’s disgusting.""I know. I saw," Me

Last Updated : 2026-07-16

Not Separately Anymore

The first blow landed before I’d even finished my morning coffee.It was a comment on the IceEyes dashboard, wedged beneath my latest tactical breakdown:Wonder how much of this "analysis" is actually hers, or if her new boyfriend is just feeding her insider playbooks so she looks smart.The room seemed to tilt. I stared at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. I scrolled down. There were more. All posted within the last hour, all carrying the same deniable, toxic phrasing.The coach only gave her that retreat credit because Carlson put in a word. Obviously. Two years of anonymity, and suddenly she's "discovered" the exact week she starts sleeping with the captain? Sure. Not saying she's a fraud. Just saying the math doesn't add up.By the time I reached the athletics center, the whispers had already bypassed the internet. Two girls from the swim team gave me a long, calculating look by the water fountains, and an assistant track coach asked me, with a thin, polite smile

Last Updated : 2026-07-16

What Dylan Knows

Cheryl’s pov.Dylan blocked me outside the film room three days after the comments started. He held a coffee in each hand, extending one before I recognized him."Peace offering," he said. "For the retreat."I took it. Refusing took more energy than a week of watching strangers debate my merits left me with. "You didn't make things weird. Celeste did. You just stood near it.""Fair." He fell into step beside me, distinct from the tension Carlson carried into every room. "I read the comments. Anyone who's watched you break down tape for two years knows you didn't need Carlson feeding you information. You were better than half the coaching staff before you two became a thing.""Thanks." I meant it, though I was tired of needing reassurance from people who weren't the source of the problem."Can I tell you something? Off the record, since you're a journalist now." He offered a half-smile, but his expression turned serious. He glanced down the hallway and lowered his voice. "Things are h

Last Updated : 2026-07-18

Every Variable in the Room.

Celeste's pov.The comments failed. Two weeks of calculated doubt online, and Cheryl still stood, still credited, still walking across the quad with Carlson’s hand resting against her spine. They moved through campus as if untouchable. Worse, Coach Whitman doubled down on her value, releasing a statement in the weekly athletics newsletter about how the hockey program prioritized Cheryl’s analytical contributions regardless of outside noise. The phrasing functioned as a direct shot aimed straight at my chest.I needed something larger than internet whispers. I needed a public unraveling, a demonstration of her inadequacy that nobody could attribute to jealous rumors or family drama.The boosters’ spring charity gala occupied the athletic department calendar for months. It remained the premiere event of the season, a black-tie fundraiser where heavy donors wrote checks with enough zeros to fund entire stadiums, and where every player's family arrived dressed to project status. I serv

Last Updated : 2026-07-18

Every Variable, Undone

Cheryl's pov.The dress Amara selected was the finest garment I ever wore. Deep green, simple, it required no performance. I told myself that simplicity mattered more than whatever Celeste planned for the evening. Still, a long-established instinct braced for a trap from the moment the booster committee posted the seating chart. I sat three tables away from Carlson, wedged between two wealthy donors I never met."Cheryl Hart," the woman beside me said, squinting at my place card. "You are the analyst everyone discusses.""That is me.""Interesting." She exchanged a look with the man across from her, a silent communication indicating a conversation completed before my arrival. "And your background, the journalism program? Or did that develop informally?"I recognized the architecture of the question. It possessed the same deniable structure as the anonymous online comments from two weeks prior. It functioned not as a direct accusation, but as a challenge designed to force a defense

Last Updated : 2026-07-18

Talking Hockey.

Cheryl pov.The email arrived two days after the gala. The subject line seemed routine enough that I nearly deleted it before the domain registered a regional sports network that covered college programs during slow news cycles.We reviewed your work from the recent interview and want to discuss a feature and internship opportunity.I read the text four times before accepting it as real. I called Amara, who screamed loud enough that I pulled the phone away."Cheryl. Do you understand this? That is not a local blog. That is an actual sports network.""I know. I am unsure how to respond.""You say yes, immediately, and then you prepare." I heard her keyboard clacking through the speaker. "This is the objective you targeted. Do not let Celeste’s gala stunt occupy any headspace needed for this."I wanted simplicity, but experience taught me that a public loss for Celeste triggered the next counter move. The gala bought me vindication, Whitman’s defense echoed across campus, and the story

Last Updated : 2026-07-18

The Weight of Success

CherylThe email sat open on my laptop for the third hour straight. Six lines. I read them so many times the words blurred into meaningless shapes.We reviewed your work from the recent interview and want to discuss a feature and internship opportunity.Relief should have washed over me. Pride, maybe. The victory lap Amara insisted I owed myself after everything it took to reach this point. Instead, I sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, back pressed hard against the cabinet. Every creak in the apartment made my stomach drop, sounding less like old wood settling and more like approaching footsteps.The gala was four days behind me. Four days since I stood before a room of donors and forced the truth out loud. Four days since my sister’s composure cracked for the first time in our lives. I wanted that moment for years. Now, all I could focus on was the steep cost of taking it.Celeste never lost gracefully.I pulled my knees to my chest, eyes locked on the front door. I checked the

Last Updated : 2026-08-27

The Search for Answers

CherylSleep never came.I lay on top of my covers for over an hour, still in the clothes I wore to the rink. I watched the ceiling fan spin slow circles above me while my mind ran the exact loop it ran since the tunnel. The trembling hands. The hollow eyes. The smile that reached nowhere real.I gave up and reached for my laptop.I told myself I was being thorough, breaking down game tape to isolate a pattern a casual observer would miss. I opened a blank search bar and typed the words before I could overthink it.Uncontrollable shaking, fatigue, mood swings, loss of focus.The results loaded. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned.Withdrawal symptoms. Substance dependency. Performance-enhancing drug side effects. Article after article, forum post after forum post, all circling the same conclusion. Clinical language in different fonts, but saying the exact same thing underneath.My stomach dropped straight through the floor.I remembered Dylan in the hallway outside the film ro

Last Updated : 2026-08-27

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