Hockey And Ice Skater Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Fine. Let’s watch a hockey game and I’ll teach you.” I grabbed a bag of popcorn, poured it into a bowl, and then grabbed a couple of cans of soda from the kitchen. Then I pulled up a video of a hockey game on the TV. I pulled her between my legs to sit and then pressed play. “So the fundamental thing you need to know about hockey is it’s just like regular soccer, but instead of a ball, it’s a puck, and you need to get it into the opponent’s net more than they get it into yours. Two teams, six players each. There’s a goalie that guards the net and five other skaters: forwards—they score goals—and defensemen, who stop the other team from getting in and protect the goalie,” I explained.

This double life went on for a whole semester. The weather slowly warmed up, but the rink was still as cold as an icebox. I sat on a plastic chair by the boards, mending a jersey that had come apart at the seam. Blake sent the puck flying off his stick, and it shot straight at my head. "Quinn, look out!" Blake shouted. I had no time to react. All I could do was shut my eyes and cover my head. The pain I braced for never came.

Noah POV The ice at the Chicago Wolves training center burned beneath my skates. Every stride, every pass, every shot demanded my full attention. If I slowed down for even a second, my thoughts would find Adrian. My team was counting on me. I did not want to let them down. Coach Harrison blew his whistle. Yelled at us to do it again. I pushed off hard. My skates cut into the ice. I got past a defenseman. I made a pass. Then I shot the puck into the corner. It hit the crossbar with a ping before going into the net.

I said. He laughed. “Do you know how many times we as players fall on our ass? I’m sure you’ve seen it plenty of times in just one game alone.” He had a point. “But that’s because you guys are going fast and just chasing a puck. I’m sure a figure skater wouldn’t be falling on their ass during their performance.” Ace shrugged and bobbed his head from side to side. “I guess you’re right there.” We took off our skates and he held mine for me.

So, I slipped out of bed, bare feet pressing into the cold floor. I stopped in front of my father’s library. He never locked it—he didn’t need to. I scanned the shelves, searching for anything that could help me. Surely somewhere in this endless maze of knowledge, there had to be something about hockey. Some book that could tell me what I was missing or maybe a book to help me improve the skills I never had. While still hoping that luck shined on me, My hand hovered until I spotted it: *The Fundamentals of Ice Hockey.*

I crashed backward into the lockers with a deafening bang, pain shooting through my spine as the metal dug in. The crowd erupted, phones started flying up, people shouting and recording. Natalie stormed in and raised her arm, clearly wanting to slap me back and I'm ready for that. "An eye for an eye, a slap for a slap." But when her hand was about to land on me, another hand caught her wrist. "Hands off, Blondie!" Asher's deep voice boomed through the chaos like a command on the ice. The star winger of the hockey team pushed through the crowd with powerful strides, his broad shoulders cutting through the sea of phones and staring faces.

The rink was empty, except for the faint scraping of skates against the ice. Mila pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, her breath visible in the chilled air. She had stayed late to check the equipment, organize some notes, and make sure everything was ready for the next day’s session. The solitude was familiar, comforting even. She liked this quiet moment after the chaos of practice, when the echoes of shouting and skates pounding the ice had faded, leaving only stillness.

The sound of Chase’s skates came closer, faster, closing the gap with terrifying speed. A predator. That’s what Chase was on the ice; ruthless, precise, and unforgiving. Noah’s grip tightened on his stick. Good, let him come. And at the very last second, Noah shifted. Not away from him but straight into him. The collision was sudden and brutal.

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.