Practice Quotes

As a male Omega, stepping onto the ice was never supposed to be my dream. Hockey belonged to Alphas—strong, dominant, born to conquer both the rink and everyone on it. Omegas like me were meant to stay hidden, protected, controlled. But hiding had never been enough. The World Hockey Academy was the only place powerful enough to shield my identity, the only place my adoptive father—its Dean—believed I could survive. To the public, it was an elite sports academy. To those like me, it was a prison disguised as opportunity. To them… it was Alpha Academy. From the moment I arrived, I swallowed suppressants like oxygen. Every breath had to be measured. Every movement controlled. A single slip—one flare of Omega scent—and I would be exposed. I had to skate like an Alpha. Fight like an Alpha. Bleed like one. On the ice, weakness wasn’t forgiven. That was when I noticed him. The strongest Alpha in the academy. The storm everyone feared. His presence alone made my knees weaken, my instincts scream in panic and hunger all at once. His golden eyes tracked me every time I touched the puck, sharp and suspicious, as if he already sensed something was wrong. During practice, we crashed into each other. The impact sent us both sprawling across the ice—but it was his hand gripping my jersey, his scent crashing over me, that shattered my control. My suppressants burned uselessly in my veins. His lips curved slowly, dangerously, as he leaned close enough for his breath to brush my ear. “Funny,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “For an Alpha… you smell like prey.” My heart slammed against my ribs. If he figured it out, everything would end. And yet— my Omega instincts whispered something far worse. I wanted him closer.

“Admit it,” He growls, pressing my back into the wall. “You like it when I piss you off.” Fuck, I hate Hayes so much. My breath hitches and I brace my hands against his chest. “You’re delusional.” “Am I?” He smirks and leans in, mouth hovering just inches from my ear. “Then why do you look like you're about to kiss me–or punch me? Either way, Carter, I win.” “Fuck you!” I spit. Dorian chuckles darkly, roughly kicking my legs apart so he can press his knee hard up against my dick. “Oh you will, Golden boy. And when you do, it won’t be because I forced you. It’ll be because you begged for my cock.” For Noah Carter, hockey isn’t just a game–it’s an escape. The golden boy captain with a killer smile and a secret he can’t afford to slip, Noah’s carefully crafted lie is falling apart with every practice and every time he locks eyes with HIM. HIM. Dorian Hayes is fire on the ice with only one mission--Make it to the NHL. But there’s one person he never expected to see when he got in Bridgewater to play for the Artic-Blades. Noah Fucking Carter. The one person he hates with everything inside him. Cue in a plan to destroy everything Noah stands for. But every time their bodies collide on the ice, Dorian can’t deny the pull. It’s infuriating, maddening…and addictive. He doesn’t want to want Noah, but when their rivalry shifts from Icy stares to scalding touches, Dorian is forced to confront a truth he’s spent years skating away from: sometimes, the person you hate the most is the only one who truly sees you.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.