13. Zane Ortiz
13
Zane Ortiz
The adrenaline courses through my veins and my heart pounds in my chest. I feel my blood boiling as I shoot a glare at the referee, my frustration barely contained. With clenched fists and gritted teeth, I argue my case, attempting to reason with the official before begrudgingly making my way to the penalty box.
“I was just trying to defuse the situation,” I mutter to myself. It’s Wood who’s at fault here—he instigated the skirmish near the Falcon’s goal crease. When he turned aggressive toward Hunter, I stepped in and pushed him away. But when Wood attempted to put me in a headlock, instinct took over, and I reacted by shoving him into the plexiglass. Yet, somehow, the referee twisted the narrative, painting me as the instigator.
I take my seat in the penalty box, my hands trembling with nerves and anger. It’s not just about me; it’s about the team. With us in the third period, leading 3-2, being short a center could give the Falcons the opening they need to catch up.
With each passing moment, the tension mounts, the crowd holding its breath as the players fight tooth and nail for every inch of ice.
In a climactic moment, the final buzzer echoes through the arena, marking the end of the game. I spring up from the bench. It’s finally over.
Although tonight’s hard-earned victory carries a hint of lingering anger, I can’t help but join in the celebration with the team.
In the aftermath of the game, the locker room crackles with what I can only describe as testosterone-fueled energy. Some teammates head straight for the showers, steam rising as they wash away the intensity of the match. Others are stretching tired muscles and reliving key plays and near misses.
Meanwhile, a couple of us are tending to minor injuries under the watchful eye of the team’s medical staff. They patch us up nicely. We’ll be back in top form in no time.
I’m sitting on the bench, a cold pack soothing my tired legs, when I sense a looming presence in front of me. Trent’s voice cuts through the locker room chatter like a blade, his words dripping with accusation. “What were you thinking, man? You nearly cost us this one.”
Great, just as I was starting to forget the ref’s wrong call on the penalty. Trent’s words feel like another dagger to the wound. Coach and the rest of the team didn’t say a word. Everyone saw it. It wasn’t my fault. I was just trying to defend myself and Hunter .
“I did my part tonight, Trent,” I say, my voice steady but my fists clenched at my sides, just in case. I rise to my feet, meeting his gaze head-on, but I refuse to engage in a pointless argument. He’s just a bully, stuck in some high school power play, and I won’t let him drag me into it.
I begin to walk away and Trent follows closely behind. “You weren’t yourself at practice yesterday. And you acted out again today. The team is just tired of having to carry the weight of your anger issues.”
Before I know it, I’ve turned around to face him, our faces inches apart. He is a few inches shorter, but still a tall guy on the team. I can feel everyone’s eyes on us. I can’t do something I might regret. Captaincy is on the table.
“You and who, Trent? Who else feels like they’re having to carry my weight?” The silence that follows is deafening, no one daring to speak up. Maybe it’s because I scored two goals tonight, or maybe they don’t want to admit that Trent’s just blowing smoke.
I let out a frustrated huff. “That’s what I thought. I won’t be bullied by you, okay?”
Suddenly, Tyler steps in and puts his hand on my shoulder as he turns me away from Trent’s imposing figure. “Ortiz, you’ve gotta stop letting people like Trent get under your skin, man,” he whispers. “The team believes in you. We all saw what happened on the ice. You could have chosen not to go after that guy, but he was trying to put you in a headlock because he knew you wouldn’t give up. None of us fault you tonight. And Trent knows it too. He’s just worked up by the fact that you’ll be captain once I hang up my skates. ”
My anger begins to simmer. Coach hasn’t said anything definitive to me about being captain. “You think I’ll get to be the team’s captain?” I ask, cautiously optimistic.
“I think you could be. Coach and management are still deciding among all the alternates, but my vote goes to you. And I know they’ll see it too. But you also have to do your part in bringing the team together, not apart.”
I sigh. He’s right—I need to step up and be a leader on and off the ice. But ignoring Trent’s constant bullying is easier said than done.
Once again, I plan to wait here until the sweet Pearl graces me with her presence. Despite my hopeful outlook, the crowd of people inside Randy’s café is making me nervous. I’ve been lucky to go unnoticed twice before, but today may look different.
I’ve taken Pearl’s advice to heart and dressed in gray sweats, hoping to blend in and avoid her labeling me a robber—unless, of course, it’s her heart that I’m stealing.
I approach Randy with sunglasses and the hoodie pulled low, partially covering my face.
He greets me with a wide smile. “Good game yesterday. I loved every minute until they wronged you.”
“Don’t even remind me. I’m still salty about that call,” I reply, feeling the frustration all over again.
“Ahh, don’t worry about it. It always happens to the best players.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “So, it seems you’ve changed your usual time here, Tizer.” That’s his quirky nickname for me to keep my identity incognito.
I return his smile. “I figured there’s no harm in coming here during your peak hours if I disguise myself properly.”
He shakes his head. Of course, Randy sees through my feeble excuse for changing my hours; his narrowed eyes say it all. “I know the therapist is why you changed your hours.” He leans in and adds in a hushed tone, “I can’t promise you won’t be spotted, though. Lunchtime can get pretty hectic around here. You’ve got to hope everyone’s too focused on their phones to notice you.”
I cringe inwardly, and probably outwardly too. I’m at a loss for a comeback.
I was naive to think he wouldn’t read between the lines when I casually asked if Pearl was also a regular.
Such a backfired attempt!
I can only hope that everyone is too buried in their phones to notice me.
“Well, hope it works out for you,” Randy continues with a low hum. “Good to see a young, popular man like you still chasing after love, just like we did back in the day.”
“Ha ha, so you thought we were just skating by without any effort?”
“You know how it is, your fans are always raving about you guys, so I figured you just picked the prettiest one and called it a day,” Randy says, his tone wistful. “Which would explain why marriage looks different now compared to our time.”
“How is marriage different now? ”
“People want a good marriage without any of the work.”
“So, marriage is quite the challenge, huh?” I’ve never really pondered marriage before, but I can definitely see how tough it must be to constantly share your life with someone and never have your own space. I’m genuinely baffled by how people navigate it all.
“It’s not that it’s hard. Marriage isn’t complicated, but in order to be happily married, two people have to put in the effort to understand each other, communicate openly, and grow together.”
Randy’s words sink in. I wonder if I’ll ever find that special someone I’d be willing to spend the rest of my life with.
With that thought lingering, a bell rings, and when I turn my head, I see her—the one person who’s unknowingly turned me into a stalker. Yet, all I want is a simple, normal conversation with her. She’s wearing a dark brown floral dress, a cardigan draped over her shoulders, and her golden hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes seem even brighter today, matching the gold necklace and earrings she has on.
Her eyes land on me and there’s a flicker of panic in her expression before she swiftly averts her gaze and heads toward the door again. I hurriedly make my way over to her. “Hey, hey. You just got in?”
“What do you want, Zane? Why are you here again today?” Her tone is curt and her guard is up .
“Same as you. I told you Randy’s coffee is the best. And, well, I was also hoping to run into you since you didn’t give me your number.”
“You have my work number. Call me during office hours or leave a message. Otherwise, this feels like harassment.” Her words take the wind out of my sails.
Is she genuinely not interested in talking to me? I thought she was only putting up this front, but what if she really has no desire for a friendship with me?
I swallow my pride and decide to change tactics. I’m going to bend my rule of never resorting to coercion, just this once.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just really want someone I can talk to, you know? I’m going through so much, and Coach really talked you up,” I say, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The only fib there is the idea of needing someone to confide in. Opening up to anyone about my problems is something I usually avoid. But desperate times call for desperate measures if I’m ever gonna get a shot with Pearl.
Her expression softens. “I promise I’m looking for the right person for you to talk to and process everything that’s going on with you.”
“I meant I need to talk to you as a friend,” I say as sincerely as possible.
“Just a friend?” she asks skeptically.
“Yes, of course. Only as a friend.”
“Are you sure?” She squints her eyes, trying to discern my expression beneath the cover of my hood and sunglasses .
“Your suspicious eyes tell me you don’t quite buy it. Why’s that?” I smirk.
She twiddles her fingers, her body swaying slightly from side to side. “I don’t know, guys like you are never looking for friends. You already have enough of that on your team, I’d assume.”
“How about I get you today’s coffee and tell you how I’m not the guy you think I am?” I propose, guiding her back to the counter.
She gives me a once-over again, and I quickly add, “In a very friendly way.”
Finally, she relaxes her shoulders, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I order our drinks, along with Randy’s danish—which turns out to be one of her favorites too. Looks like we’re off to a good start.