I sit in the parking lot after finishing my last class of the day. I have approximately fifteen minutes to get to the rink and onto the ice for practice. Yet, I can’t seem to get myself to move my car. I’ve been sitting here waiting for a glimpse of her.
Call me crazy, a stalker, whatever the fuck you want. In the past week, I’ve only seen Olivia two times and each was from a distance. And each time, I saw her with some dickhead. I don’t know who the hell he is, but I have every intention of finding out.
When I saw the two of them together, they were walking into a classroom side by side. It shouldn’t be hard to figure out who he is, if they have a class together. I don’t give two fucks about that. What I do give a fuck about is the way they didn’t seem like they were just two students going into the same room who didn’t know each other.
They’re friends.
Or something more… which only makes my blood boil.
Olivia isn’t mine. She can’t be. But if she ends up being someone else’s, I don’t know if I want to see that. She’s too good—way too good for anyone that I could possibly imagine. She has a sunshine personality, but that doesn’t come close to touching her. Olivia is the fucking sun.
Grabbing onto the gearshift, I’m about to put my car in reverse when I catch sight of her walking down the sidewalk. She’s alone and my stomach does a weird somersault that I’m not particularly fond of. I like her alone, away from anyone else. She’s safer that way, not only physically, but her heart is safe as well.
I pause for a moment, about to lift my foot off the brakes, when I see Olivia’s dark hair whip around her body as she spins on her heel. My eyes follow the direction she’s looking in. And I fucking see him. The same dickhead I saw her walking with into class.
Anger laces through my veins and my knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel and gearshift tighter.
He’s sporting a huge grin on his face as he jogs over to her and I want to slap the look from his face. I watch the two of them, unable to hear anything they’re saying. They turn to continue walking, but they’re walking in my direction. Olivia keeps looking over at him, her face shining brightly.
And I hate the way she’s looking at him right now.
The way her head tips back with laughter, her smile reaching her eyes.
I don’t know who the hell he is, but I do know one thing…
He’s got to go.
My skates glide effortlessly across the freshly cleaned ice. We’ve been through our warm-ups already and everyone is lining up for the puck drop. It’s not our first game of the season, but this one feels different. It isn’t often that I go into one already feeling pissed off, like I’m ready to be out for blood.
Hell, that isn’t even my position when I play. I’m not one of the enforcers. I’m not the player that our coach sends out when it’s time to fuck up someone else. But I need to take this aggression out on someone. The adrenaline is in full force, coursing through my veins, and I’m ready to play my ass off.
I get into position, watching Vaughn as he lines up with the center from the other team. He and August play the same position and Coach has been trying to divide the ice time between them equally. With his high level of skill, there’s a possibility that he could outskate us, which says a lot. None of us are jealous of him, though. He’s a part of our team, so the support is endless.
Both of them are slightly crouched, their sticks on the ice waiting for the puck to land between the two of them. The ref drops it and skates backward, out of the way, as Vaughn and the other player fight over it. Vaughn wins the face-off and passes the puck to Logan. He ends up skating with it before passing it to Cam who then sends it off to Vaughn again.
Vaughn manages to send the puck soaring through the goaltender’s legs, a five-hole shot. Instead of going over to him to celebrate, I have my sights set on the motherfucker who checked me during the last game we played. I skate toward him at full speed, my skates slicing through the ice as I stop abruptly in front of him when he turns to face me.
Dropping my stick, I shove my hands against his chest. His eyebrows draw together as his eyes slice to mine. He slides backward for a moment but quickly recovers.
“What the fuck?” he snarls at me, dropping his own stick to the ground. “You want to fucking go?”
“Does it look like I’m here to talk?” I flick my wrists, tossing my gloves onto the ice as I square up with him.
“It was a clean hit from the last game,” he argues, not fully taking the bait. He’s silent for a moment before he tosses his own gloves onto the ice beside him. “Fuck it. You wanna go, let’s do it.”
“What the hell are you doing, Barrett?” I hear Cam’s voice from somewhere around us. All I can think of right now is ripping off this guy’s helmet and driving my fist into his face.
We’re both squared up, skating around each other for a fraction of a second, before he comes at me. He throws a punch, hitting me in the ribs where there’s no padding. My lungs constrict in protest, but the adrenaline completely washes it away as I rush at him. Grabbing the cage of his helmet, I violently twist it until the snaps on the sides are popping off.
He throws another fist, hitting me in the side of my head that is still covered by my helmet as I proceed to rip his off. It falls onto the ice by our feet and my gaze meets his. Except, it’s not the player from the team that I’m seeing anymore. My mind creates a mirage and the other player morphs into the fucking asshole that I saw with Olivia. Curling my fingers into my palm, I raise my arm and drive my fist under his jaw.
His head jerks upward, blood flying from his mouth as he bites down on his lip from the force. I can’t think straight in this moment. All I want to do is beat the hell out of this guy, but not really him. I’m channeling all my anger, my feelings, my emotions, and taking it out on a guy who didn’t even do anything dirty to me.
In an instant, he’s rushing into me, his shoulder slamming into my chest as he attempts to take me down onto the ice. My arms slide under his, locking him in place as I gain my footing. We struggle against each other. Slipping my leg around the back of his, I force his knee to bend as he loses his balance and falls onto the ice.
Just as I’m about to hit him again, someone’s pulling him away from me as the ref is forcing himself between the two of us. I’m back on my skates, spinning around with the anger still racing through my system, mixing with the adrenaline. Vaughn, Logan, and Cam are standing there staring at me.
Hayden isn’t far behind them, sliding to a stop by me. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”
I glance between the four of them, my chest heaving with every breath I take as the adrenaline continues to rock my system. Turning back to the guy I just punched, I see the blood on his face and I instantly know that I’m fucked. I saw it in the moment, but it didn’t register in my mind until now.
“They’re going to throw you out of the game,” Cam points out with a scowl on his face. “You do realize that, right?”
“You’re lucky if they don’t suspend you for a few games,” Hayden adds.
I look to Logan for some kind of guidance. If there’s anyone who gets into fights frequently, it’s him. Although, his situations are typically different. He’s smart about the way he goes about it. He doesn’t act like a goddamn psychopath like I just did.
Logan frowns. “I don’t know, man. I’ve gotten suspended before, but that’s why I’ve learned to fight smarter than that.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “Are you good? This isn’t like you at all.”
“Barrett!” our coach yells my name from the bench. “Get your ass over here, right now!”
My stomach sinks and I hang my head in defeat as I leave the guys behind me and head over to where our coach is standing. This is why I don’t let my emotions get involved. They do nothing but cause problems.
And I may have just completely fucked myself over.
