Booktok Ice Hockey Novels & Stories

I do not love hockey. I love figure skating, which I have done since I was four years old, which is how I ended up at Harlow on an athletic scholarship, which is also and this is the part nobody tells you at recruitment visits why I have complicated feelings about hockey players specifically. Hockey players share our ice. Hockey players have, on three documented occasions this semester alone, left ruts in the resurface pattern that my coach describes using language I won't repeat. Hockey players operate on the assumption that the rink is primarily theirs with figure skating as a polite inconvenience scheduled around them. I am not biased. I am informed.

SLOANE I spent the next five days bonding with Dad and Victoria. Yeah… *Victoria*. “Let’s play hockey,” I said, tossing the puck Chase had given me as a Christmas gift across the kitchen island. Dad looked up from his coffee, eyebrows raised in genuine shock. --- I pushed off. The blade bit the ice. The glide was smooth — not the glass-smooth perfection of a maintained rink, but stable enough, confident enough, the kind of glide that whispered *I know what I’m doing* even when doubt still lingered underneath.

She pleaded and I huffed. "Dad, the footage?" "Shut up! Can't you see she isn't feeling well?" He snapped, then led her out of the room and I chuckled in amazement. I was beginning to enjoy this. ......... The next day was the hockey match and I made sure to ignore Donald all through classes today, heading to the men's locker room to see Griffin and get his jacket. The room seemed deserted and I was about to leave when I bumped into a huge rock, my nose almost bruising due to the impact.

one of the fools says to the other as he slides across the ice toward me. I huff behind my helmet, bumping into his shoulders as he gets close. That knocks him off balance, a groan spilling from his mouth. Weakling. The other attempts to follow the first fool's instruction, but I successfully maneuver my way past him and head for the net. "Bring this home, baby!" Oliver shouts enthusiastically across the rink. A devilish smirk curves my lips as I glare at the goalkeeper, who visibly shakes with fright. I tease him with a fake pass, and when he eagerly slides to the other end of the net to catch the non-existent puck, I seize the opportunity to swing my stick, sending the puck gliding smoothl

The arena roared with deafening cheers. “RYDER! RYDER! RYDER!” The name echoed through the massive ice hockey stadium as students jumped to their feet, waving banners and wearing the university colors. The bright arena lights reflected off the smooth ice, turning the entire rink into a glowing battlefield. At the center of it all was Ethan Ryder. Fast. Confident. Untouchable. The captain of the Northbridge University hockey team glided across the ice like he owned it. His red jersey clung to his broad shoulders, and his dark hair was damp from the intensity of the game.

"You hid your bruises well, and they will not ask about your injuries if they cannot see them." "You just need to answer their questions with polite words, and you need to avoid talking about the physical fights on the ice," he advised. "They do not understand the rules of hockey, and they just want to know you are kind."

Three… Two… With a sound like a gunshot, the puck flies into the capitals net. The force is too much even for the goalie to stop it. Milliseconds later, the buzzer sounds. The audience explodes into rocks. Cheers. Phase of the freezer beside themselves with joy. I feel adrenaline pumping through my veins, almost as if I had been the one playing hockey. Aiden’s team skates toward him and pulls him into an aggressive group hug each cheering for him. The capital players watch with vitriol for a moment before skulking back to the locker room.

I was late morning when Tristan entered the room pulling my head of the book, I looked at him in slight amazement. “We have the conference call in twenty minutes.” He greeted stepping into the room as I looked up. “What?” He asked and I held up the book. “Tristan, this book.” I stated not really knowing how to explain it. “It’s a novel, just a story that I found in the library, but it’s based on a family of werewolves, the two daughters, twins, were born with a special gift, they could produce fire and ice.” I uttered and watched as his brows rose. “They later became joint alphas of the their pack. Do you think this could be the story of the alpha twins that we were looking for?”

Ant takes off down the ice with lightning speed. "Holy shit," Kateb mutters, echoing my own thoughts. This game feels like a professional match, with both teams giving it their all and refusing to back down. Ant finds himself surrounded by two defensemen, so he quickly passes the puck to Warren. Warren deftly maneuvers past another defender, slamming his hockey stick against the puck with precision. I clamp down on my lip, watching as the puck sails straight into the goal. "Hell yeah, Kohl!" Miller shouts, and the entire team erupts into cheers, including Kateb and Mason.

I have one job, win this game. Mitchell skates past me, shoulder-checking me harder than necessary. “Nice punch, Hart,” he sneers. “Too bad your head’s not in the game.” I don’t look at him. I don’t react. I just keep skating. He hates that. Next shift, he tries again, a shove to my back, a slash to my stick, a muttered insult about my team. Still nothing. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. But then he says her name. “Hey, how’s your little ice princess? Lena, right? Shame, she got hurt. But maybe I can help her 'heal' up”