Hockey Player Booktok Novels & Stories

I broke into a sweat, despite the coldness of the room. "Yes, that's me." I replied. He looked up from his glasses. Ohh, it wasn't a question. I murmured an unnecessary apology. He stared down at his laptop, continued reading to himself, then looked up. My fingers were gripping tight at the ends of the chair. "You've really caught our attention. The Female hockey player." I didn't know what to say, so I just let him continue. "You broke the rules and did a lot of things that were unregulatory to hockey."

“Andre —“ It’s obvious that he is about to interrupt but Dylan scowls. One hand raising to cover the man’s mouth whose eyes open wide in shock. “You didn’t let me get a single word in last time, so it's my turn…Getting closer to you, spending time with you. Learning about fuckass hockey, that i never cared about before. Watching the way you lead your team fiercely and knowing just how kind and sweet you are off the ice—those are things I would never want to go back to not experiencing and it fucking sucks—“ he chokes on a sob, eyes pooled with water but he’s been holding this all in to himself and he’s going to combust if he doesn’t just relieve this crumbling pressure off of his chest.

No fucking way. Out of the corner of my eye I take in his formed biceps with tattoos running from his wrists to I guess his shoulder tops. It’s like a creeping vine with leaves off interspersed with different images. A rose, a heart, hockey sticks and a puck. Typical. Of course he is an ice hockey player. His v-neck shows a tattoo peeping just over the top, it looks like Latin letters, I’m wondering what a dumbass hockey player could possibly have written on his body. I bet it’s something he Googled and had put on. There’s no way he can know a word of Latin. Right?

Rosalie's POV “Good luck with the game,” I said, leaning in. My lips brushed his cheek, warm against the chilly air coming off the rink. He leaned down and kissed me back, “Thank you.” He started to turn, his skates cutting a little line in the ice, but then he stopped and looked back at me, his eyes all serious and heavy. “After the game…we need to talk, okay?” My heart did this weird drop, like when you miss a step on the stairs and your stomach floats up into your throat for a second. I forced myself to nod, keeping my face totally still, just playing it cool so he wouldn't see.

The front row of journalists leaned back like I’d hit them. “I played hockey because I loved the game,” I said, and this time my voice didn’t waver. “And I gave everything to this team on pure human grit and discipline. I am a wolf. I carry royal blood. But I am also an athlete, a teammate, and a survivor. If you are waiting for me to beg for forgiveness for surviving, or for being born as I am, you will be waiting forever.” The room stayed dead quiet for three agonizing seconds. Then it erupted.

I stood there, overwhelmed, my throat closing up as the weight of their hatred crashed down on me. "Shut up!" Coach barked, trying to regain control. "All of you, quiet down!" Nobody listened. The team was in chaos, pointing fingers at me. Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the room. Ryan had slammed his hockey stick against the concrete floor so hard the graphite snapped clean in two. Everyone froze, looking at him. Without saying a single word, he reached up to his chest. His long fingers hooked under the fabric of his jersey, right where the bold, white letter *C* was stitched over his heart.

It was the stubborn drive of a hockey captain who refused to lose a game, even when the scoreboard said it was impossible. Holden lunged to his side, sliding across the wet ice. His ordinary human hand reached out and grabbed a heavy wooden hockey stick that had been left near the team bench. He gripped the taped handle with both hands, using his momentum to swing the heavy wooden stick upward with everything he had. The heavy wood connected right with the rogue's jaw with a loud, hollow crack. The rogue let out a sharp yelp, his head snapping back as he stumbled backward across the slippery surface. He crashed into the plastic boards, clutching his bleeding face in total shock. He had expec

And felt her stomach drop. A video file. Already downloading. Underneath it was one sentence. “You should see what your hockey player says about you when you’re not around.”

The sound of her voice sent panic clawing up my throat, and I parted my lips to explain—except Rhett beat me to it. He pivoted toward her with that devastatingly charming smile, and the second Cassie saw his face, her eyes went huge. Her jaw dropped, her whole body trembling. “Y…you… you’re R…Rhett Voss—the hockey player. Rhett.” Her voice cracked, disbelief lacing every syllable. “Well, yeah,” Rhett said casually, stepping forward. He extended his hand with all the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he did to people. “Nice to meet you.”

Had it not been for money, I would be standing there instead of here now. “This way, please,” The driver led the way, and I followed, my heart pounding. I've researched and even heard so many things about the players from this particular team. They're rumoured to be cocky and rude. Well, this isn't news at all. Almost all the hockey players around the world are known to be crazy… Well, so am I. I just hope I last here... I have to. I need the money, and heck! I need to eventually get into the figure skating team once I save up enough.