14. Finn #2
The puck sails past the goalie and into the net.
A singular point on the scoreboard, yet it feels monumental.
The arena erupts, but I’m ensnared in a moment of clarity.
Where Kyle fumbled his easy goal earlier, Dylan came back from the brink and dominated .
She proved to every single person here tonight—player and fan alike—exactly what she’s capable of.
She proved that she earned her first-line spot.
Not slept her way into it like Kyle vindictively implied.
I admit, there’d been a split second where I wondered if he was telling the truth.
Until Ethan came out after Dylan had already fled and shut that shit down.
I should have known. Kyle was wasted and feeling sorry for himself, but that’s no excuse to start harmful rumors.
I thought Ethan was going to rip him a new one when he found out.
I can empathize with Kyle. I can feel bad for him, but there’s no denying that he just can’t live up to Dylan. He’s not in the same league as her at all. Not even close to her level. What Dylan just pulled off is a thing of beauty.
She is a thing of beauty.
I itch with the need to go to her now. To lift her off her feet and celebrate that epic goal, but I hold myself back, my fingers flexing around my stick as I watch her tilt her head back and grin to the floodlights far above us.
Ethan approaches, patting her on the back and likely congratulating her.
A few other players follow his lead. No one has known what to do with her since she made the roster, but I imagine that will be changing after tonight.
With that goal, Dylan will have earned more than just my respect.
I force myself to turn away. I can’t look at her for another second and not go to her. She might deserve her position on the team, but accepting her as anything other than a teammate would be a betrayal to my friendship with Kyle.
So I really need to get the unabating desire to kiss her again out of my head.
The final buzzer sounds, cementing our loss. Despite Dylan’s show-stopping last-minute goal, defeat makes my muscles heavy as I watch NSU celebrate like they’ve won the Stanley Cup and not a stupid exhibition game.
“We played well,” Ethan says, coming over and clapping me on the back. “It’s just one of those things. We’ll get them next time. ”
I nod, but his words barely penetrate. It’s a shitty way to start the year. I know this game doesn’t count for anything, but that doesn’t mean NSU isn’t going to hold it over our heads or that the entire team won’t feel the loss as strongly as if it were a championship game.
Begrudgingly, I join the rest of the team, getting in line for the handshake. Dylan is slightly ahead of me, and despite putting her hand out each time, every single Glacier skips over her like she’s not there. Like she doesn’t even exist.
Something about it pisses me off. Every player on the ice, regardless of whether they are an opponent, should have respect for that goal she just pulled off.
She was as good as out, but she rallied, gliding down the rink like she had wings on her back instead of skates on her feet.
Still, every single NSU player looks at her like she’s nothing more than worn tape—used, discarded, beneath consideration.
My teeth grind, and I have to look away before I snap the finger of the next NSU player to shake my hand.
Not because I care about her, but because it’s unsportsmanlike.
It’s just fucking respectful to shake hands with the team you played against. To say congratulations even if what you really want to do is drive your fist into their face and knock a tooth loose.
After clapping gloves with the final Glacier, I do a loop around the ice, needing to skate off some of this frustration. The adrenaline from the game. The disappointment of the loss.
Most of the team has already left the rink, probably wanting to drown their sorrows in the nearest pint or pussy they can find. That leaves mainly Glaciers still lingering. I notice several of them talking to Ethan, so I skate over.
“…fucking liability,” I catch Lucas saying.
“Only thing she’s good for is relieving the stress after a loss, if you know what I mean.
” The sleazeball winks. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Memories flicker, of how good her lips felt, how perfectly her body fit against mine, and my blood instantly boils.
Does this asshole know how fucking sweet she tastes?
I skate to a stop beside Ethan, spraying shards of ice over Lucas’s skates. He glowers and I smirk right back at the dickwad, making a mental note to go after him with the same ferocity the entire Glaciers unleashed on Dylan the next time we face off on the ice.
Dropping his irritation, his mouth twists in faux sympathy as he glances between us. “Too bad you won’t be making it to the championships. Senior year, and all.” He shakes his head, but triumph gleams in his beady little eyes.
I scoff. “Blame a girl for your shitty performance all you want, Tremble, but what’s your excuse going to be this year when we kick your ass—again?”
“Kick our asses?” He barks a cold laugh.
“Is that what you thought you were doing out there?” He shakes his head.
“We’re going to slaughter you at every single game this season,” he taunts.
“And I can’t fucking wait.” He smirks cockily.
“That she-hawk is going to drag you down into the dirt with her, and I’m going to enjoy watching every second of it. ”
Grinning like the cat that got the cream, he skates off the ice with the last of his team.
“I hate that guy,” Ethan mutters as we watch them disappear down the tunnel toward the guest locker rooms.
“Yeah, him and the rest of them.”
The thing I can’t shake, though? What if he’s right? I know Dylan can hold her own, but what if she’s the spark that sets the rest of the team off balance? And that might be enough to cost us everything.