by Taylor Rose
I snickered to myself, letting the small win push my self-confidence up.
Pivoting my body, I changed directions to skate the opposite way, giving my team another shot on goal. As I skated through the opposing players, I spotted Nash Stickelton, “Sticks” for short, open ahead on the right. Straight ahead of me was one of the opposing teams defensive players. Rather than go toe to toe with him, I passed the puck to Sticks. Using a burst of energy, I glided on the ice right past the defensemen. Simultaneously, Sticks then skated behind the goal, so that he was now positioned on the left side. When I was about a foot away from the goal, Sticks slammed the puck straight to me. The puck connected with my stick, and ricocheted into the goalie’s glove.
Damn it!
Turning around, I noticed one of the opposing players pushing around one of our rookies, Declan Saber. At only eighteen, Saber hadn’t been in the National Hockey League for very long. He seemed very intimidated by the blatant attempt to scare him, but while he seemed to be letting it go, I couldn’t. He was only getting picked on because he was new. Fresh meat. This was bullshit. It was called being a “bully”.
Normally I wouldn’t give a shit, but sometimes you needed to let off a little steam, and tonight was one of those nights.
Consequences be damned.
Skating right up to the bully, I pushed him hard with my fists. The refs blew their whistles, trying to get me to stop. I was going to get a penalty now anyways, may as well make it worth the 5 minutes. The bully turned around to face me, his eyes gleaming with menace. Mine were void of any emotion at all. Pulling my gloves off, I dropped them to the ice. Letting your gloves fall was the signal for a fight. Once both players dropped their gloves, the refs couldn’t interfere until the fight was over. League rules.
The bully’s lip curled up, showing his teeth, or lack thereof. This was common in hockey players, at least the ones who didn’t wear their mouth guards.
Pulling his gloves off, he dropped them to the ice as well.
The crowd cheered, chanting for me.
“King! King! King!” was bellowed over and over again, bouncing off the walls of the stadium.
A smirk played on my lips. My fans were speaking volumes.
We were both circling each other, our fists in front of our chests, trying to find an in. There was no point in wasting energy just throwing punches, you wanted them to count, you wanted to actually land some.
After about a minute of circling, our bodies gravitating closer and closer to each other, I finally found my in. I’d been watching his skates move with his body, and found his tell. He moved his right skate back before he turned his body. So, the next time I saw his right skate move that way, I took my opportunity. Stalking forward, I latched onto his jersey, pulling his body closer to mine.
Once I had him in my grasp, I slammed my fist into his face, shocking him. The distinctive crunching sound echoed through my ears, letting me know that his nose was now broken. Blood started gushing down his face, creating lines of red on his cheeks and chin, eventually dripping onto the ice.
Using his shock to my advantage, I punched both of my fists into his stomach, causing the pathetic pussy to fall flat on the ice. He cowered in the fetal position with his arms wrapped around his head, protecting himself from the blades of my skates.
Not that I would ever slash him or anyone; but he didn’t know that.
The refs took him lying on the ice as an end to the fight and dragged me away.
It was time to face the consequences of my actions.
It was time for my five-minute penalty.
Well, our five-minute penalty. He got one too.
No matter what the outcome was of a fight, both parties received penalties. This meant you had to be extra sure you were willing to take one for the team.
The crowd continued to cheer even as I was skating to the penalty box. I fist pumped the air, my signature move, with the same hands that just beat that guy down. A smile took over my face as the announcer talked to the crowd.
Sitting down in the penalty box, I watched my team play four on four. Both teams down one player for five-minutes.
The thing about hockey is that when a penalty is issued, the team the penalty was against is a man down on the ice for the intended time of the penalty. We call this a power play; because when you have one more man on the ice, you have a better chance to score. The only rule was that if your team scored while you were on a power play, the penalty is over which gives the other team their player back before you could score again. The good thing about a fight is that both teams lose a player which creates an equal playing field with one man down for each team. It also gives your team more room to move around, and if you had a good enough team, you could use that to your advantage.
While I was waiting to get back on the ice, I tried hard to focus on the game, needing to concentrate on the task at hand. I was just too distracted. I looked around the stadium, trying to clear my head. My eyes fell on the TV screen for a split second, and my heart stopped beating in my chest. The kiss cam was a fan favorite, always getting the spotlight. Staring at the screen was the most beautiful woman I had every laid eyes on.
Lifeless, icy blue eyes stared into the camera. The kind of blue you see when you’re on vacation in the Caribbean, staring into the clear blue waters. Pain radiated through them, even through the screen. It chipped away a piece of my tattered soul, leaving my heart broken, but still beating. Her heart shaped face and straight nose stood out, even though her cheeks were cherry red and puffy. Her plump, pouty lips were light pink. Her glossy, golden blonde hair hung down to her breasts, the wavy locks shining from the lights in the arena.
Something about her was different.
It called to me.
Most women would be jumping up and down with joy for the attention, for the limelight. Instead, she seemed to want to crawl under a rock and hide. Even through all the pain and sadness I saw etched on her face, she radiated beauty. Recognizing the look in her eyes cracked the final piece of my soul, shattering me into a thousand tiny pieces.
Staring into the mirror, it was the look that was always reflected right back at me.
The air in my lungs fizzled away, leaving me breathless.
Not her.
Please, not her.
A sudden movement caught my eye, sparking life back into my body.
A young girl leaned down, kissing the broken girl smack dab on the lips. The pop she made echoed through stadium. She was still twisted around, kissing the broken girl on her cheek, so I couldn’t see her face, just her back. A small jersey clung to the young girl’s frame, my name and number proudly showing. My heartbeat sped up, bringing oxygen back into my lungs. Turning to face the camera, the young girl fist pumped the air, her small hands punching the air the same way I always did. Pride swelled in my chest, my heart soaring from the action.
Before the camera moved, my eyes burned into the girls. The young one looking like a carbon copy of the older one. Same hair. Same eyes. Not broken; happy.
The screen faded to black, erasing their images.
Sadness clawed at the throat, scratching its way up.
Rather than not give a shit, my heart seemed to have melted into a giant puddle at my feet.
Fuck me sideways.
Shaking my head, I blocked out anything other than the game itself. Looking up at the clock, I realized I only had about ten seconds before my penalty was over. Blowing out a breath, I released my pent up energy and got my head back into the game.
Three…
Two…
One…
Zero!
Flying onto the ice, I stole the puck away from the other team. Energy pumped through my veins, pushing me to do my best. Instead of passing the puck, I whipped through the defensive line, taking a shot on goal. Using my stick, I whipped it under the puck to give it more air, launching it into the top left corner of the net. The puck shot through the o
pening and landed in the back of the net. The buzzer blared to life. Score!
Fist pumping the air, I headed over to the bench. My team mates punching my knuckles as I passed them. This is how we congratulated each other.
Sitting down, I took a huge gulp of water. Someone pounded on my back, causing water to sputter out of my mouth. Little droplets of water clinging to outside rim of the rink. Coughing, I tried to catch my breath.
“Nice job, King!” my coach yelled, continuously patting my back.
“Thanks, coach,” I replied, more interested in watching the rest of the game than in exchanging pleasantries. Well, really in thinking about the two girls I saw earlier than exchanging pleasantries. He just didn’t need to know that.
Catching sight of a security guard, I flagged him down. Once he reached me, I asked him a favor. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
“Great goal, man. What’s up?” he asked me in a gravelly voice.
“I need you to do me a favor,” I replied.
“What cha’ need, bro?” he questioned, one of his eye brows lifted and arched on his forehead. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side.
“So, here’s what I need you to do,” I started, telling him exactly what I wanted. A wicked grin came over his face and he saluted me before turning on his heel and stalking off.
A wicked smile transformed my face, thinking about my plan.
Happiness is a state of being.
Happiness starts with you.
I was aiming for the moon, hoping to reach the stars.
*****
Error. Error. Error.
So, my plan failed.
Like completely and totally failed.
Time for plan B.
Commencing plan B in…
Three…
Two…
One…
Zero!
*****
Jesus mother fucking Christ.
Pulling the skates off of my feet, I threw them at the wall in front of me. They crashed against the brick, the sound echoed all around me.
Why does nothing ever just go my way? Nothing. Ever.
Instead of having her fanning all over me, she passed out on the mother fucking floor.
Her body collapsed right before my eyes, her head smacking into the concrete.
Seriously.
What. The. Fuck?
That was not was supposed to happen.
The rest was a blur. My teammates and the team doctor surrounded her, picked her up, and moved her back into the examination room we have at the stadium.
Squirt freaked out. Royally.
I held her little body back as my teammates and doctors took over. Squirt did not give up. She was kicking, screaming, crying and pounding her small fists into my body. With her inaudible wailing, no one in a ten-mile radius was able to understand what she was trying to say.
Tomorrow I would have multiple circular shaped bruises all over my body, no doubt about it.
“Kieran,” a voice I recognized nagged. My head snapped up, my eyes locking with a pair of misty grey eyes. Eyes that had been there for me for years.
Cooper.
For the first time during this whole ordeal, I took a breath. The oxygen burned my lungs, the familiar sting zapping my mind back into the real world.
Shit.
“Yeah?” I rasped. My voice wobbled, shaking all on its own. The muscles of my throat were raw and scratchy.
“Umm, are you just gonna stand there? Or…” he joked. Seriously, what a sarcastic asshole.
Looking down, I realized that Squirt was still in my arms, clinging to my body. At least she had stopped hitting me.
One thing at a time.
Rather than answer him, I started to walk back to the examination room, needing to focus on the task at hand. Making sure the fainter was alright.
Walking into the room, Cooper and I cleared everyone out except for the team physician who needed to actually help her. I watched as he walked around the table, examining her.
“Shit,” I cursed to myself.
Seeing someone; an innocent, in pain or hurt, was not a strong suit of mine. In fact, it was one of my biggest weaknesses. It always brought me back to when I was in the same position. Helpless.
“That’s a bad word,” mumbled Squirt, her little head snapping to attention at my potty mouth.
Cooper and I both laughed, loud and booming, unable to help ourselves. Our voices ricocheting off of the walls in the small room.
A smirk played on her lips, her eyes bright and understanding.
“Nice one, Squirt,” I volleyed, my hand forming a fist to bump with hers.
“Actually, it’s Aqua,” she quipped. Her little head tilted to the side as she moved her hands, placing them on her hips.
I groaned. I knew that move. I may not know exactly what it meant, but I knew that it wasn’t good. That move reeked of attitude, reminding me that I was screwed because I wouldn’t win against it.
That move was a man’s kryptonite. Add in the pouty lips, tear streaked cheeks, and sniveling runny nose, and you were done. Gone. Finished. Be happy to never win anything ever again.
“Huh?” I questioned, not understanding what she meant.
“My name… It’s Aqua,” she proclaimed, her voice edgy with attitude.
“Well, Aqua. I like Squirt better,” I ribbed while scrunching up my nose. I poked her in the tummy, hoping to lighten the mood if only a little.
Her small face contorted as if in a deep thought. After thirty seconds without an answer, her eyes popped out of her head and a smile plastered her pretty little face. It was as if a light bulb had just gone off in her head.
“Alright, fine,” she huffed, her thumb and index finger pulling slightly on her chin. “I mean, two can play at that game, Jumbo.”
And now I was right back to square one, not understanding what she meant. Is this how men felt all the time? I mean, this was only a miniature version. It couldn’t always be like this… Could it?
Finally, I conceded, because honestly curiosity had won the battle and I wanted to know what the fuck she was talking about.
“What the ff-fuuuudge, are you talking about?” I asked her, barely stopping myself from cussing once again.
“Well King, I like Jumbo better,” she boasted, a smirk playing on her lips.
Throwing my hands up in the air, I blew out a huge breath which hissed between my lips.
“I see,” I muttered, trying to come up with something, anything that would help me out. Nope. Nada. Nothing.
“Yup,” Squirt giggled, letting the “P” in yup, pop.
Fucking shit.
I couldn’t even right now.
Crossing one arm over my chest, I puffed my chest out, pretending to pout. Okay, well not really pretending, I was actually pouting. But, I mean come on, this was bullshit. How could a girl so much younger than me get the best of me?
Exasperated, I gave up trying to think of an answer. Clearly, it wouldn’t matter anyways.
A cough startled me out of my impending thoughts. Looking up, I noticed the team doctor staring at me, utterly confused.
Well buddy, you’re not the only one here that’s confused.
“Uhummm,” he coughed out, clearly trying to bring my attention to something.
It was then that Squirt full out laughed, her body shook, causing mine to shake as well.
Oh, mother fucking fucker.
She was still in my arms.
“What happened to her?” I asked him, nodding my chin in the direction of the woman who fainted.
“Her. Name. Is. Figgy,” Squirt bit out, choppy and a tad angry. I couldn’t even blame her.
Figgy. Figgy. Figgy.
I say it over and over in my head, liking the way it sounds.
“Emotional overload, she just short circuited. She should be better in the morning, just make
sure she drinks water,” he explained, trying to dumb it down to a level someone without a doctorate would understand. “She has a mild concussion so make sure she’s breathing throughout the night.”
Aqua wiggled in my arms, attempting to get down to the ground. Setting her down softly, I watched as she stood next to Figgy and held her hand comfortingly.
“What about tonight?” I asked him, nodding my head towards the two girls.
“She needs supervision, unless you’re taking her to the hospital?”
Vigorously, I shook my head no. I’m not leaving them at the hospital. I’m not completely heartless, just mostly heartless.
“Alrighty then, call me if you have any questions,” he uttered as he walked out of the room, leaving the four of us alone.
My eyes met Cooper’s and an understanding passed between us. His eyes blazed with protectiveness. Taking care of these girls just became our number one priority. The how and why didn’t matter to either of us. It just was.
“Ready to go, Squirt?” I questioned. Her head snapped up, her eyes showing shock.
“Ready,” she squeaked, her voice a higher pitched than earlier.
Cooper walked over to the table, leaned down and almost picked Figgy up.
I coughed, loud and obnoxious, getting his attention. Irritation shown on his face, not that I gave a damn. I arched my eyebrow, almost daring him to see what would happen if he continued with his plan.
Growling, he backed away from Figgy and walked over to Squirt. He stood towering next to her. I watched from across the room, a giant ass smile plastered on my face.
“Let’s go, Peanut,” he grunted.
Reaching out his hands, he tried to grab Squirt in his arms. She dodged him easily, sticking her tongue out at him. Ribbing him. Teasing him.
“Only if I get a piggy back ride, Jelly,” she giggled, running around the room like a ninja. Gasping for breath, Cooper finally agreed to her piggy back ride. She jumped up into the air, clapping her hands together in excitement.