Ice Skater Hockey Player Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Riven The puck dropped again, and my stick dropped on the ice. I moved with graceful ease. I wasn’t chasing the scoreboard—sure I wanted us to win, but I was still chasing discipline. That was the game. If you should win, it was only just that you win fairly. But Sky… That idiot was playing with fire. Who could imagine that in the middle of all these people who were watching the game, right in the middle of these thousands of eyes, that stupid guy chose to use wolf-speed to play on the ice!

He looked at me the way people look at strangers who know their name. "You're not with the tour group," he said. His English was clean, barely any accent. "No." I walked up until I was a reasonable distance from him. "I'm Scarlett Huntington. I came out here to talk to you." He looked at me for a moment. Then he turned and kept walking. I followed him. "I run a youth sports development company," I said, keeping pace. "We've been building a program specifically for young hockey players under eighteen who don't have access to proper training infrastructure. I want to bring you on as a long-term partner."

"Well, from what I'm hearing, you're in the game tomorrow, and since you don't know a thing about hockey, I figured we could use this power outage to study something fun for once." "What's that?" I asked, trying to peer at the book in his lap from where I was sitting. Adrien grinned, flipping a few pages as if it were a magazine. "Hockey for Dummies," he said with a wink. "Thought it might be useful for you, seeing as you've missed a couple of practices." I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess. So, what are we studying tonight? Penalty shots and checking?"

“Get changed and meet me on the rink, let's have a warm up before the coach gets here.” The moment I stepped on the ice, the familiar feeling hit me. I pushed forward, my skates kissing the ice as I moved around to explore. This rink was new, since the old one was abandoned due to faulty buildings. My teammates joined me as we did our usual drills on the ice, the sun was already setting and our new coach who was allegedly a competitive player according to Jordan was nowhere to be seen.

“I have a confession. I know you, we attend the same school and I’ve seen you occasionally. I also know this is what you do” I stared at him and wondered why I didn’t know him if he knew me “ I’m a hockey player in the school, you rarely come for our games so it seems that’s why you don’t know me” he continued “I also have a proposition for you. I’ve wanted to do it in the boy’s bathroom but I’ve been to much of a bitch to even give it a go” Was this guy kidding me? Hell no. I would just get my money abd fuck outta here. I ignored him and grabbed my bag to leave.

“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.

"The pixie cut suits you. Makes you look fierce. And after everything with Ryan? Good for you for moving on. You deserve better than that guy." I smiled, taking a sip of water. "Thanks. It feels good to finally do something for me. No more waiting around for someone to choose me." He nodded with eyes sparkling. "That's the spirit. On the ice we always say the best players are the ones who create their own chances. Sounds like you're doing the same off the ice." The conversation flowed easy. He told me how he got into the winger position in the first place.

I look down at my open book and wait for the feeling to pass. "I did not realize hockey players spent time on the psychological motivations of literary characters," I say, because deflection is something I am significantly better at than honesty. Something shifts at the corner of his mouth. "Didn't realize figure skaters cared about performative identity construction." My stomach drops. "I never said I was—" "You didn't have to." The reading room continues around us. Pages turning. Pencils moving. Someone across the room clicking a pen in a rhythm that is going to bother me if this session runs long.

There were so many interesting informations but my focus had been on pack politics and of course hockey. I found out something interesting, Alpha Killian was a hockey captain of the Frozen Blades. An all male hockey championship team.Finally, I found out something we have in common. I searched the whole internet for any information about Frozen Blades, there were enough articles about them, especially about their sexy stunning captain, i rolled my eyes at that. I am sure he was popular with the girls, that jerk! I was about switching off the internet when a notification popped up on the screen, a newsletter I had subscribed to,