6. Liam
6
LIAM
The puck slides across the ice, and I drive it into the net with a resounding thwack. I glance up and spot Olivia in the stands, her auburn hair catching the light as she scribbles in her notebook. She’s been here for most practices these last few weeks. Not that I mind.
" N ice shot, Captain," Noah says, skating over with a grin. "Trying to impress someone?"
I give him a sidelong glance. "Always."
He chuckles, but his eyes drift toward Olivia. I clench my jaw and skate back to center ice.
"Alright, guys! Let’s pick it up!" I shout, clapping my hands. "We’re running through the power play again."
The team snaps to attention. As we set up, I catch another glimpse of Olivia. Her presence is both thrilling and distracting, making it hard to focus on anything but her.
I dig deep, pushing the team harder than usual. “Move it, Ethan!” I bark when he hesitates on his pass.
Ethan scowls but follows through, sending the puck over to Noah. Noah shoots me a look that says, ‘what’s your problem?’ before taking his shot at the goal.
As practice continues, I can’t help stealing glances at Olivia. She’s engrossed in her notes but occasionally looks up to watch us. It makes my heart pound harder than any drill could.
I skate over to Ethan as he adjusts his helmet. “You need to be quicker on your passes,” I say tersely.
Ethan narrows his eyes at me. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder,” I snap before skating away.
As practice winds down, we run one last drill. This time, everything clicks—the passes are sharp, the shots precise. When Coach blows the final whistle, there’s a sense of satisfaction in the air.
After practice, I find myself lingering near the locker room door, watching Olivia pack up her gear. My feet move before my brain catches up, and I’m suddenly standing next to her.
“Hey, Olivia,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside my head. “You want to grab a coffee real quick?”
She looks up, surprised. “Sure, that sounds great.”
Olivia follows me in her car to the quaint little coffee shop across town. I open my car door, and step out into the crisp evening air, and I find myself unexpectedly at ease. Olivia gets out of her SUV, and matches my pace as we walk toward the café down the street. I sneak a glance at her, noting how her eyes light up when she talks about the game.
“So,” she starts, her voice curious, “what’s it really like being the captain of the Wolves? You know, beyond the public persona.”
I chuckle, scratching my stubble. “You mean the guy who yells at everyone on the ice?”
“Exactly,” she grins. “What’s behind all that intensity?”
I take a deep breath, feeling a rare openness. “It’s... a lot of pressure,” I admit. “You’re not just playing for yourself anymore. Every move, every decision—it affects the whole team.”
She nods thoughtfully. “That must be tough, especially with the playoffs coming up.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice softening. “The guys look to me for direction. It’s like having twenty brothers relying on you not to screw up.”
Olivia leans in, her eyes full of interest. “How do you handle that kind of pressure?”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling more exposed than usual. “Honestly? Sometimes it’s overwhelming. But then I think about why I started playing in the first place—my dad was in the NHL too. I grew up wanting to be just like him.”
“And do you feel like you’ve achieved that?”
I pause, considering her question. “In some ways, yeah. But there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying I need to do more.”
Her eyes soften with understanding. “Sounds like you’re pretty hard on yourself.”
“You could say that,” I admit with a wry smile.
She laughs lightly, and it feels like a weight lifts off my shoulders.
“What about you?” I ask, leaning forward. “Why journalism?”
Her face lights up as she talks about her childhood dreams and supportive parents. She mentions how covering sports was always her goal.
“That’s impressive,” I say genuinely. “Not everyone gets to chase their dreams.”
She shrugs modestly. “I’m just trying to make my mark.”
We reach the café and step inside. The rich aroma of coffee envelops us as we place our order, and find a table in the corner.
The barista brings our coffees, and Olivia takes a sip before leaning forward slightly. “Off the record, do you ever feel like you can’t live up to everyone’s expectations?”
I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. “All the time,” I confess. “But I try not to show it. The team looks to me for strength, and if they see me wavering...”
“That’s a lot to carry on your shoulders,” she says softly.
I shrug. “Comes with the territory.”
She studies me for a moment, her green eyes piercing through my usual defenses. “Why did you invite me for coffee? You’re not exactly known for opening up to anyone, let alone the press.”
I chuckle, scratching my jawline as I consider my answer. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”
Her eyes widen slightly before she recovers with a smile. “Smooth, Makar.”
I grin back at her, feeling more at ease than I have in weeks. “I try.”
We continue talking about hockey, life in Minneapolis, and everything in between. The conversation flows effortlessly, and before I know it, an hour has passed.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully, stirring her coffee with a small spoon. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” she replies with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’re actually kind of charming when you’re not barking orders on the ice.”
I laugh—a real laugh that feels like a release of all the tension I've been holding onto.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I say warmly.
Her laughter rings out, a light, melodious sound that draws the attention of a few patrons. I can't help but smile. The way Olivia's eyes light up when she talks about her career goals is mesmerizing. I catch myself staring and quickly look away, pretending to be interested in my coffee.
"So," she says, leaning forward slightly, "what's next for the Wolves? Do you think you guys have a real shot at the Cup this year?"
I take a sip of my coffee, buying myself a moment to think. "We do. But it’s not going to be easy. We’ve got some tough teams ahead."
"What do you think sets this team apart?" she asks.
I lean back in my chair, considering her question. "It’s the chemistry," I say finally. "We’ve got a good mix of veterans and young guys. Everyone knows their role and plays it well."
"Even Ethan?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
I sigh. "He’s... getting there. He’s got the skills, no doubt about that. Just needs to find his place on the team."
She nods thoughtfully, jotting down notes. Her focus is intense, and I can’t help but admire her dedication.
Our conversation flows easily from topic to topic—family stories, favorite movies, even our mutual disdain for pineapple on pizza. Each time she laughs or smiles, I feel that same urge to reach across the table and take her hand but resist it every time.
“Alright,” she says after glancing at her watch. “I should probably get going before they lock me out of the press box.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” I agree reluctantly.
We step outside, and Olivia wraps her scarf around her neck, the evening chill nipping at us. I linger for a moment, not wanting this to end just yet.
"Thanks for the coffee," she says with a warm smile. "And the conversation. It was... refreshing."
"Anytime," I reply, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside me. "Good luck with your article."
She nods, turning to walk away. I watch her go, her auburn hair swaying with each step. My mind races—there’s a magnetic pull between us that I can’t ignore, but I also can’t afford distractions right now.
As she gets in her car, I feel a mix of attraction and unease. She gets me in a way few people do, and that scares me. I turn back toward the arena, my footsteps heavy with the weight of conflicting emotions.
I'm in the locker room, following the second half of practice. The guys are laughing, trading jokes, and reliving the best moments from today. I strip off my gear, muscles aching but satisfied. Noah’s already at his locker, toweling off his hair.
“Noah,” I call out, catching his attention. “Got a minute?”
“Sure thing,” he replies, looking up with a curious expression.
We move to a quieter corner, away from the banter. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. Noah does the same, his brow furrowed slightly.
“So, what’s up?” he asks, his tone light but tinged with curiosity.
I take a deep breath. “It’s about Olivia.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What about her?”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling uncharacteristically unsure. “I... I think I’m into her…”
Noah’s expression shifts—something flickers in his eyes before he quickly masks it with a grin. “Well, well. Liam Makar has a crush. Who would’ve thought?”
“Cut the crap,” I say with a half-smile. “I’m serious.”
He leans back, studying me. “Alright, let’s hear it. What’s got you all twisted up?”
“She’s... different,” I admit. “Smart, funny, passionate about what she does. It’s like she gets me in ways most people don’t.”
Noah nods slowly, but there’s that flash again—something like pain or regret. I chalk it up to him being concerned about team dynamics.
“And you’re worried this’ll mess things up with the team?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say honestly. “But it’s more than that. After my divorce... I swore off getting close to anyone like that again.”
Noah claps me on the shoulder. “Man, you’ve been through hell and back since then. Maybe it’s time you let yourself be happy.”
“Maybe,” I concede, though uncertainty gnaws at me.
He chuckles softly. “Plus, it’d be fun seeing you try to woo her.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Think you’re funny, huh?”
“Always,” he says with a wink.
As we head back toward our lockers, Noah glances at me sideways. “Just be careful, alright? We need you focused.”
“I know,” I say firmly.
But as we finish changing and pack up our gear, my thoughts keep drifting back to Olivia—her laugh, her eyes lighting up when she talks about hockey. Maybe Noah’s right; maybe it is time to take a chance.
We grab our bags and head for the exit together.
“Thanks for listening,” I say quietly as we step outside into the crisp evening air.
“That's what best bros are for,” Noah replies easily but there’s something lingering in his gaze—something I can’t quite put my finger on before he turns away.
As we part ways and I head home, Olivia's face remains etched in my mind. The realization that I can't stop thinking about her both excites and terrifies me in equal measure.