Ice Hockey Booktok Novels & Stories

“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.

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.*

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐭 The rink was empty. I stood alone at center ice, the low lights casting a pale glow across the surface. The rest of the team had gone out to celebrate, and I should have been with them, but Malakai's text had asked me to wait, so I stayed behind instead. I used to spend a lot of time in rinks just like this one, back before an injury changed the direction of my life.

"That was a deliberate, targeted hit. And I want to know why." "I already said……" "I don't care what you said. I want the truth. Right now." I looked at him. He was old school. He'd been coaching hockey for thirty years. He'd seen every dirty play, every excuse, every pathetic justification. And right now, he was staring at me like he was looking at someone he didn't recognize. "Personal issue," I said. "Personal issue?" His voice rose. "You can't let personal issues onto the ice, Lucas. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works."

Chaos erupted in front of the net. Sticks clashed and bodies collided. The usual dance we always see in any ice hockey games. Lily was practically climbing over the railing. “Someone clear it!” Johanis lunged in. Hooked the puck away from immediate danger. Ryan cleared it down the rink. Whistle. The crowd exhaled collectively. Lily sat back down dramatically. “I aged three years just now.” “You’re very dramatic.” “Sports demand drama.” The game resumed. Time felt faster now and a little bit sharper. Hillia was pressing harder. Tavian wasn’t even smiling anymore. Neither was Johanis. They met mid-ice again.

The sophomores looked really uncomfortable, their eyes darting toward me as I stopped in the middle of the locker room. I didn't say a single word. I wasn't exactly in the mood to yell or argue. I just marched straight across the concrete floor, my skates cutting a sharp line through the air. Before Caleb could even realize how fast I was moving, I dropped my gloves, reached out, and grabbed him by the thick collar of his hockey jersey with both hands. I threw my weight forward, lifting him slightly off the bench, and slammed him violently back against the metal lockers.

A dark, dangerous smirk formed on his lips, replacing his relaxed morning attitude with cold determination. "I know," Michael said, and his grip tightened on the strap of his hockey bag. "And we are going to have a very long conversation about personal boundaries on the ice."

“I’m a little out of practice.” “A little?” He smirks, lazily gliding toward me. Effortless. Like the ice bends for him. “You look like Bambi on roller skates.” Heat surges to my cheeks. “You’re supposed to be helping me.” “I am.” He flicks a puck in my direction. “Rule number one: stop whining.” The puck skitters across the ice. Instinct kicks in I catch it on my stick, handle it without thinking. For a second, it feels right. Then my balance falters, and I stumble.

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.

Outside, b⁠eyond the empty rink, a champion‌ship cit‍y celebrated a game we⁠ll won. Inside, on‍ the ice where forbidden‌ had somehow become for‌ever, two peo⁠p‌le wh‍o we⁠re n‍ever supposed to f⁠all for each othe‌r‍ he⁠ld on‌ tigh‌t‌, finall⁠y, compl⁠e‍tely, unafraid of any‍one finding out. THE EN‌D