Slapshot Awakening
But he’s moving like he was born in skates, like the puck’s just another extension of him.
Sure, he can’t shoot for shit. The first time he wound up for a slapshot, it was all arms and zero power, like someone trying to swing a broom through water. But what he lacks in brute force, he makes up for in speed and movement. He darts into open space before anyone can even blink, and the way he anticipates positions is freakishly good. Years of dance and choreography translating into ice awareness we’ve spent decades training for.
He finishes the drill and slows to a glide, cheeks flushed, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he coasts toward me.
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