Chapter 5
5
Tarak
Shit. I really shouldn’t have body slammed her like that. She’s so tiny. And fast. I just… saw red and lost my cool. It’s why they called me the Bull back home. Not that Rhys knows that. I worked hard to keep my temper under wraps while he was checking me out and putting me through my paces. But today I just… snapped.
I drop my stick from her chest, worried that it might leave a bruise, and pocket the puck, then I turn away from her and skate off.
I don’t make it far when she hisses in pain. I freeze, torn. Shit. Did I hurt her? A second later I hear the scrape of her skates on the ice, much slower than she was moving a minute ago, and regret spikes through me. I should check on her, but, fuck, if she’s hurt, I might just lose it.
My eyes flick to the clock.
Less than two hours before tryouts.
I need to practise. If I can just secure my spot on the team, there will be plenty of time to make it up to her later.
I skate past the centre line, remove the puck from my pocket, and drop it onto the surface before lining up my stick and taking a shot at the goal. It hits the post and rebounds back at me. Frustrated, I skate closer and try again. The same thing happens. I bite back a growl and whack the puck with all my might, chipping it up into the air. It sails towards the goal, too high, and reverberates off the crossbar.
The puck flies back towards me and I swear time slows down and my future flashes before my eyes, slipping through my fingers like sand. Never take your helmet off on the ice, Tarak! It’s rookie skating 101!
I have to dive to narrowly being taken out by my own temper tantrum.
Lesson learned.
Getting to my feet, I skate back to my discarded helmet and pull it back on. Feeling eyes on me, I glance around, half expecting to see the feisty little figure skating smirking at my almost take down. But the rink is empty.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched as I spin and skate back to the puck.
Get your head in the game, Tarak. You need to nail this, and you’ve only got ninety minutes to get on top form.
Taking a breath, I work through my old team’s solo drills. Definitely would’ve helped if I’d brought more than one puck, but I had to travel light from Australia. I’ll either pick up more once this stupid tryout is over, or I’ll be quickly reunited with my old buddies when they send me packing.
Muscle memory starts to kick in, and it’s not long before all thoughts of Vesper’s graceful twirls—and my own nagging guilt—are pushed to the back of my mind and all I focus on is what’s on the ice.
I’d swear this ice rink was a sauna the way the Cavaliers are working me. It’s heaven. I didn’t think I could ever sweat this much in the UK, but tryouts here are no joke, and I see why Jace was so insistent.
The two from the Raiders aren’t half bad, either. It’s obvious that the hockey leagues here are, well, a different league.
“Nice one, Cook!” Jace shouts as I score with an unexpected backhand shot.
Always good to surprise a goalie. Especially when I didn’t expect it to go in.
While almost all my shots were on target, I was struggling to actually get them into the goal. I wanna say that’s how good the goalie is, but I know half of it is me still shaking off my nerves.
Lucky for me, the other two trying out aren’t finding as many openings as I am. I put that down to pure determination. No one else would measure up to me.
Finally, Coach blows a long whistle, and our game of 3V3 is over. As I glide over to the bench, desperate for a drink and a breather, number fifty-nine—Harrow—slaps me on the shoulder.
“You did good out there, mate. Hope you make it!”
At least that’s one vote. Wait, shit. Was this a voting thing? Should I have been trying to make friends this whole time instead of letting them get painfully friendly with my shoulder?
While Rhys pulls Jace to one side and they start talking in low, hushed voices, I take a seat on the bench with the two Raiders. They still haven’t told me their names. Or maybe I just didn’t pay attention. My focus has been totally on myself today, which I feel is valid considering the circumstances.
Vesper’s pained face flashes back in my mind’s eye, and guilt stabs me in the gut. These guys aren’t the only ones I’ve been a dick to today. I probably owe her an apology, or at least a fair shot at me with my stick and no padding. I mean, she’s tiny. How hard could she even hit?
As I contemplate my future of getting deservedly smacked upside the head by the figure skating equivalent of a chihuahua, Rhys waves over the two Raiders guys and my heart sinks. I can’t hear anything they’re saying because of the rest of the team’s chatter around me, so I focus on keeping my expression as neutral and unbothered as possible.
It’s fine. I’m good. No, nothing’s wrong. Why would something be wrong? My life is just falling apart around me because I had to go through a bullshit tryout for a gig I flew across the world for, thinking I already had it locked down. I’m good.
“Tarak.” Rhys snaps me out of my inner rambling, summoning me over as the other two grab their bags. Interesting.
Keeping the Raiders in my peripheral, I join Rhys and Jace beside the ice. I don’t know what I’ll do if this was my last time skating here. My body might just shut down, completely unable to function without breathing the frigid rink air.
Fuck it, maybe I’ll join the Raiders and crush the Cavaliers to prove them wrong. I came here to make a name for myself, after all. That would show ‘em they’re making a huge mistake.
“Welcome to the Cochmouth Cavaliers, Tarak.”
Jace’s words immediately silence my plans of revenge, and my jaw drops.
“I like him a lot more like this.” Jace smirks at Rhys before turning his attention back to me.
“You suit being quiet, Cook, but I can’t deny you’ll be an asset on the ice. I’m assuming you’re still interested?”
My brain finally logs on again and I choke out, “Yes! Yes, very interested! Thank you, man. I’ll make sure you won’t regret this!”
“You better. We’ll get you a copy of the training schedule and get your gear sorted. Got a number in mind for your jersey?”
“Yeah, sixty-six, if it’s free.”
Jace nods, and I grin. My heart’s pounding out a beat I could dance to.
Everything’s coming together. I’m on one of the best teams in the league, and if I keep this up, I’ll be a star player with my face on the posters outside the arena. No revenge plans needed. Not even for a certain figure skater who triple toe looped right onto my last nerve.
Guess I really do need to swallow my pride and apologise to her now. No excuse if I’m gonna be seeing her around here every day. I shouldn’t make things any more awkward than they already are. Would she even listen to me?
“Hey, sorry about the whole slamming you into a wall with a hockey stick. Good thing you can take a hit like a champ! I made the team, so no hard feelings?”
Oh yeah, that’ll go down so well.
Actually, now that I think about it, no. I’m not apologising. Fuck her rink-hoarding arse. In fact, she owes me an apology for taking all the slots. I’m gonna need them now more than ever, and I’m surprised no one else is pissed! What does she expect, booking extra slots every freaking day, especially minutes before team tryouts? I didn’t even hit her hard. She was just surprised I got the best of her. After all, she’s not the only one here with goals. If I hadn’t pushed my way in, I could’ve been sent packing like those Raiders guys.
Nah, if the little ice princess doesn’t wanna share, that’s too damn bad. It’s about time someone taught her a lesson.