Ice Hockey Booktok Novels & Stories

##Chapter 10: Cassidy Book One: Stay "This is going to be so much fun! Thanks again for coming with me tonight." Snuggling into her jacket, Brooklyn bounces excitedly on the bleacher seat as her gaze tracks the hockey players skating by the Plexiglas that surrounds the ice. "That's him, number fifty-five." A dreamy look fills her large green eyes. As she sighs, her warm breath escapes into the frigid air of the rink. I roll my eyes even though she isn't paying me the slightest bit of attention.

I could hear the distant sound of skates cutting across ice. I walked toward the entrance, my bag slung over my shoulder, my notebook clutched in my hand like a shield. The moment I stepped inside, the cold hit me. Not the cold of the outside air, but the cold of the rink. The players were already on the ice. I spotted them immediately, a blur of movement and color, skating in formation, passing the puck back and forth with practiced ease. The coach was standing at the edge of the rink, clipboard in hand, his voice cutting through the cold air like a whip.

"You may not be the most powerful, but you can conquer even the world with dedication and resilient, of course with a plan and strategy on the side." <<<>>> YEAR 2095, MONTH OF MAY, 10TH DAY The rinks in Moscow and Chicago were thousands of miles apart, but the ice weighed nearly the same amount when it came to expectations and legacies. In one, a non-magical rising ice hockey star was trying to make a name for himself among seasoned players. In another, a magical child prodigy was wowing scouts, teammates, and fans with his talent. They had not yet met, but they were destined to meet and clash in many ways possible.

We moved together with a gentle, effortless rhythm, peeling away the heavy layers of clothing that stood between us until there was nothing left but bare skin, warmth, and the steady, racing beat of our hearts. Every touch felt like a quiet vow. My hands traced the familiar curve of her waist, the soft sweep of her hip, and the racing pulse at her neck, committing every inch of her back to memory. Lori moved beneath me with a raw tenderness, her hands tangling into my hair, her lips tracing a trail of soft, burning kisses along my jawline and collarbone. When we finally came together, it was slow, passionate, and deeply intimate. An unspoken agreement that no matter what crazy challenges lay

“I’ll order takeout.” That did it. Zach launched into it immediately, throwing an arm around Jamie's shoulders and starting down the hall. “Okay, basics. Ice is divided into zones—offensive, defensive, neutral. You’ll hear guys yelling about line changes, that’s just rotations. Goalies are weird, don’t take it personally.” Jamie hurried to get his notebook out of his bag, trying to track Zach’s pace and his words at the same time. “And if someone’s taping their stick, don’t talk to them. Ever.”

But it remained empty, a void that tugged at my heart. Shaking off the disappointment, I refocused on the game. The ice beneath me seemed to hum with energy, a pulsing heartbeat that echoed my own. I pushed forward, each movement calculated, every decision a blend of instinct and strategy. When the puck came to me, I didn't hesitate. With a precision born of countless hours of practice, I sent it hurtling towards the goal. The net shuddered as the puck found its mark. "Yes, that's what I'm talking about!"

She had wanted to teach me from the edge of the rink, but it was hard for both of us, so she had to go grab a pair of skates, and even though she tried to hide it, I could tell she didn’t like being on the ice. Talk about the sensational ice queen. Then, she dropped the puck onto the ice, and I moved immediately. But somehow, it slid past me. Behind me actually, and into the net. I felt a wave of mortification wash over me, but I played it cool. Just like always, she didn’t speak first, her silence filling the rink. I turned slowly toward her. “That one was a—” “Simply wrong,” she cut in. I frowned at her. “It was fast. You sent it my way too fast.”

"Twice. You didn't pick up." I pulled off my gloves and dropped them on the desk. "I was on the ice." "I know where you were." She set the leather folder on the desk and opened it without ceremony. "Sit down, Luca." I sat… She laid three printed pages in front of me. The first was a screenshot collection, fan accounts and sports commentary, all circling the same exhibition game footage I had been trying to stop thinking about for four days. The second was a social media analytics report with certain sections highlighted in yellow. The third was an article from a mid-tier sports culture site with the headline underlined in red pen: *Devereaux and Calloway: Hockey Rivalry or Something Else?*

Lucian POV The puck just hung there for a second between the two center sticks. Then it fell. The sound it made was really loud and sharp, like metal hitting metal. It echoed above the noise of the twenty thousand people watching. Orion won the face-off, his shoulders pushing the other center out of the way. He sent the puck to our defenseman on the left side. The final game of the year had started. Boston did not wait for us to get our defense set up. Their first line came out fast, like animals let out of a cage. Number forty-four was leading the charge, his skates digging into the ice and spraying ice chips everywhere as he headed straight for my side of the ice.

Have fun but not too much. Have a good read. Read with caution. Anna was my best friend. She lived across the street with her sexy brother, Reid. I’ve known Anna since kindergarten even though she doesn’t know I have a huge crush on her brother Reid. Reid was a hockey player who had a hot body. He would always come back sweaty and would hop into the shower. I most times imagined what he looked like without the clothes.