3. Dylan #2
Next, I turn to Jax. He doesn’t look amused.
“You’re the anchor,” I tell him. “Best defenseman in the division. You make every play look easy, like you see the game three steps ahead of everyone else. You led the team in ice time last season, and it wasn’t even close.
Whether it’s a power play or penalty kill, you’re the guy they trust to shut it down.
Without you, this team wouldn’t win half the games they do. ”
Unlike the others, Jax shows no outward reaction, but his gaze never breaks from mine, telling me he heard every word.
Finally, I look at Kyle. His lip curls in a sneer.
“And you,” I say, my voice calm. “Left wing. Eighteen points. Third in the league for turnovers. But you’re a grinder.
You get into the dirty areas and screen goalies like it’s second nature.
When you’re in front of the net, you make it almost impossible for the other team to see the puck.
” A smugness enters Kyle’s eyes, but I don’t let him sit in it for too long.
“That said,” I continue, keeping my tone light, like I’m just making an observation and not that I’ve obsessed over his abilities and skills to ensure I can do better.
Play harder. “If you focused on improving your positioning on rebounds, you’d probably double your scoring.
And if you tightened up your puck management on zone entries, you’d create more opportunities for your line. ”
If I thought he was sneering at me before, he’s now outright glaring. “Oh, is that so?” His voice drips with sarcasm.
I don’t allow myself to get swept into an argument with him. I already know he’s the type to tell me I’m wrong until he’s blue in the face, even though everyone in this room knows I’m right—not that they’d admit it out loud.
Instead, I shift my attention back to their captain. The man I need to impress upon that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. That I will prove myself, and he should get on board already and let me do my thing.
“I know who you all are,” I finish, letting my gaze sweep over them. “I’ve studied your games, your stats, your plays. I’ve studied every facet of every member of this team.”
My declaration is met with silence until a jeer cracks through the air like a whip. I don’t even need to look to know who it came from.
“Reciting some easily obtained stats proves nothing,” Kyle states, collapsing back against the sofa as though done with this entire conversation. “If anything, it makes me think you’re a crazed fan or obsessed groupie, rather than a genuine player.”
The muscle in my jaw tics. One thing I know already, Kyle and I are not going to get along.
As if sensing the escalating tension between us, Ethan interjects, “Seems a little unfair that you know all about us, and we know next to nothing about you.”
My gaze slides to his, holding that sharp, blue stare before I nod. “Four goals, eleven assists. Fifteen points total last season.”
Ethan raises an eyebrow, and Finn’s lips twitch like he’s holding back a laugh. Kyle doesn’t even bother; he snorts outright. “Not exactly first-line numbers,” he taunts.
“No,” I agree calmly, not allowing any frustration to show on my face. “They’re not. But you can only do so much when your entire team is working against you. ”
“Entire team?” Finn interrupts, confused.
“Wait.” It’s the first time Jax has spoken, his voice a low baritone that throws me for a second.
As though he just delivered something deep and meaningful, everyone in the room turns to look at him, but he continues looking at me , head tilted to one side.
I can practically see the cogs spinning as he puts the puzzle pieces together.
“You’re the Northern Summit girl.” A disbelieving laugh slips past his lips.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. ”
Dismissing me, he turns to his buddies. “The girl on the NSU team.”
All of their heads snap back to mine.
“Jesus, they’ve been the laughingstock of the league these past two years,” Kyle sneers.
“They’ve been playing like shit,” Ethan observes, eyes narrowed on me as if it’s my fault. If men didn’t have such fragile egos, we’d have dominated the league, and my stats would be ranked up there with Ethan’s, Finn’s, and Jaxon’s. So don’t put that shit on me!
“Fuck me, what the hell is Coach thinking?” Groaning, Kyle buries his face in his hands.
“Look,” Ethan says, lips pursed in consideration.
“I don’t know what your game is, but this is our senior year.
Our last one playing college hockey. Our shot to secure a career in the NHL.
It’s nothing personal, but I refuse to let anything interfere with that.
You might be a decent enough player, but you don’t belong on this team. ”
A decent enough player?! I’ve never been so insulted.
“That isn’t your call to make, Captain, ” I tell him flatly, before shaking off my irritation. Huffing an exhale, I say in a calmer tone, “Look, we don’t have to like each other. We don’t even need to get along. You play your game, and I’ll play mine, and we’ll all get what we want this season. ”
Sensing that this conversation will only go downhill if I hang around any longer, I step back into the hall before turning and fleeing up the stairs. Let them think what they want. I didn’t come here to butt heads with obtuse hockey players. I came here to prove myself.
Which is exactly what I’m going to do.
I just wish I didn’t have to live here, under the same roof as all of them.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice. I stopped by administration after practice, but the woman behind the desk barely spared me a glance before telling me there was no available housing and essentially implying I either suck it up or find private accommodation.
I spent the rest of the afternoon scouring the web for listings, but everything near campus was already taken.
So it looks like I’m stuck living with four guys who hate me.
As I close my bedroom door behind me, a sinking stone settles in my gut.
Letting my head fall back against the wood, I close my eyes and send up a silent prayer that this year doesn’t end up like the others—with a team sabotaging my every move, cutting me off from plays altogether, and having to fight just to touch the puck.
All I want is to play hockey. Why is that so damn difficult?