Hockey Player Booktok の小説・ストーリー

You’ll know when you see it. "When?" I pushed, drifting backward through the water, leading him on. "Later," he replied. He didn't stop moving until the distance between us was nearly gone. "So… how are you so good at this game?" I blinked, caught off guard. "What game?" "Hockey," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with a serious curiosity. "I’ve seen how you reconstructed Harold’s entire playstyle. You’re better than most professional scouts."

"You know what, Coach? I barely know anything about you." He blinks, caught off guard by the subject change. "What?" "I know you're an ex-hockey player. That's it. You should tell me more. Your career. Your story. All of it." "I don't see how that's relevant—" "Humor me." He studies my face for a moment, then sighs. "Alright. I played college hockey at Michigan. Got drafted to the NHL—Chicago Blackhawks. Played three seasons before I tore my ACL in a game against Boston."

“Accurate?” “Extremely,” I said, crossing my arms. “I prefer books to bruises.” Knox leaned on his stick, helmet dangling from his other hand. Sweat glistened on his temples, but he still smelled like mint gum and victory. Unfair. “Books, huh? What’s your poison? Romance? Mystery? Or are you one of those ‘I only read classics’ types?” I blinked. Was the hockey god actually making conversation? “Mostly fantasy. The kind with dragons, not… whatever this is.” I gestured at the entire rink like it had personally offended me.

So much worse. “ If you’d focused on your Alpha training like you’re supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he’d said. “ You wouldn’t be splitting your time, and I wouldn’t be asking you to give up this childish obsession.” Childish. That’s what he called my dream. Hockey wasn’t just a sport to me— it was a part of who I was. And the upcoming game next month? It wasn’t just any game. It was the game. The one I’d been waiting years to play in.

Alexander looked down at his own large hands. He thought about the cold ice. He thought about the loud fans screaming his name. Hockey was not just a game. It was his whole life. It was his biggest dream since he was a little boy. Alexander slowly shook his head. His face turned very pale. "No," Alexander whispered. His voice was shaky. "I cannot do that. I cannot tell the public about my father." Oliver stopped moving. The small bit of hope in his chest died instantly.

“If you don’t want this picture out in the open then you better do as I say” My tone was supposed to sound harsh than that, instead I sounded like a lost puppy, maybe that was part of the reason why he wasn’t taking me serious. “What is it that you want?” He stated like I was bothering him. “I want you to teach me how to play hockey, it seems that what I know is not enough to get me on the team. So I need you” Was I desperate? Yes Did I stoop so low as to blackmail Emory to get what I want? Yes,

Someone had anonymously supplied doctored financi⁠al recor⁠ds that th‌e league later det‌er‌mined were falsified. Someone with ac‍cess to both her father's accounts and en‌o‍ugh hockey l‌eague‍ influence to make the accusa⁠t⁠ion s‍tick lon⁠g enough t⁠o end⁠ a‌ career, even after it w⁠as quietly cleared.

I pause the video for a moment to adjust my laptop on my knees. Done, I hit play again and the video continues. The instructor begins the lesson by demonstrating the letter ‘A’ and I watch as he makes a fist with his thumb resting against the side of his index finger. Without hesitation, I lift my right hand and repeat his movements. My fingers feel stiff and clunky because obviously, I have never done this before. On the ice, I can handle a hockey stick with ruthless perfection. But here, I am trying my best not to fuck this up even though it is my first time.

"Alright, Hawks! Let's move out! Time to get that cup!" Julian stood up smoothly. He picked up his heavy hockey stick with a iron grip, shoved his helmet over his head, and locked the visor down. He didn't say a single word, but the terrifying aura of the Ice King radiated from him so strongly that the players around him instinctively gave him a wide berth.

"Seriously, don't let those country club snobs get to you. My life is a complete circus right now too. I'm currently hiding out here because I'm furious at my boyfriend. He's this giant, thick-skulled hockey player named Miller, and he thinks he can just ignore my texts for six hours because they're in 'heavy training lines' or whatever." My jaw literally dropped. The tissue in my hand crumpled as I stared at her in absolute, utter shock. "Wait. Miller? As in Miller, the defenseman?" Chloe paused, her coffee straw hovering near her lips as her eyes went wide. "Yeah. How do you know Miller?" "He's... he's Brayden's defensive partner on the ice," I stammered, the sheer coincidence of it making