Page 22 of Vibes

Iris shuffles along until she matches my pace, and when I leave her near the door to the changing rooms she only looks a little apprehensive. She’s clutching her bag to her chest, peering at me over the rim of those glasses I’m learning to fucking love. She’s still wearing the sweats and tank from her house, and the fact that she didn’t worry about dressing up to freeze her ass off here in the stands appeals to me.

She doesn’t have to look like eye candy; I already know what’s hiding beneath the layers, and I can’t wait for more of her.

I shoot a wink over my shoulder before slipping into the locker rooms. I’m already a half hour late. “Keep those eyes on me, wallflower.”

~~~

“Get your head in the game, Haberman!”

I wince as we circle back to start the drill again, wishing Ronaldo was something besides the goalie today. All our reserve players keep shooting me looks, like I’ll magically make the other four missing players appear out of thin air. What do I look like, Houdini?

Unfortunately, Iris is a distraction in the stands. She’s sitting next to Brianna and Kelsey, two girls I can’t say I particularly like. Usually the puck bunnies aren’t entertaining enough to draw my attention away from practice, but those two swooped in like vultures the moment Iris sat down.

“Haberman!” The coach screams, as the puck sails past me and every other player follows suit. When did the puck go back into play?

Goddamn, am I off my game today.

Abe is filling in for Flynn, and we’re supposed to be playing on the same side for this drill. Unfortunately he’s got a chip on his shoulder bigger than Dylan’s, and he won’t get the fuck out of my way to let me play my position.

He won’t let me do fucking anything. I keep kicking up ice, my stick slamming against his as we fight for the puck like we’re enemies.

“You’re the reason Wyatt got moved back,” Abe hisses when we fail to steal the puck back, and the other half of the team wins a point against us. “Are you seriously that far off your game because of a cute piece of ass?”

Even through the helmet I can see Abe’s eyes locking in on Iris in the stands, who moved seats sometime during the last drill. She’s a couple rows higher, legs tucked up on the seat, and her notebook resting there as she watches us. For a moment her gaze darts down and then back again. I’m pretty positive she’s taking notes, even here.

My mouthguard saves my teeth when I grind them together. Can no one get off my ass about this girl? “I had to give you a chance to feel like a winner before you get kicked back to the bench.”

Abe growls, sliding to a halt on the ice. I stop a few feet from him, feeling the animosity building between us. I miss when we didn’t talk to each other. “You and your friends ruined the game for us Monday.”

I throw down my hockey stick, ripping off the helmet. Fuck this. My mouthguard comes out next so he can hear every word I say. “Sorry you couldn’t piggyback off us for the win. Get some goddamn skills and maybe you won’t be benched every game.”

Abe copies me, tearing off his helmet too. His gloves follow, and I mimic the action. I’m itching to let out some real aggression, and if he wants to be an idiot we may as well get this over with before the next game.

He swings first, rushing me and catching my right in the jaw. It sends me backwards on the skates, and I lock one arm around his, dragging him with before I land a strike to the side of his head.

We go down, and I forget to care that we’re on the same team. Abe’s gunning for a main position on the team and I could care less about his ambitions right now. I have real fucking problems to deal with, like where half my friends are.

And Iris, because he doesn’t get to talk about my wallflower like that.

The coach’s whistle is background noise as the two of us pummel each other, and I can feel every glancing blow from Abe when I pin him down and start whaling on him. Abe has a good forty pounds and three inches of height on me, but I have frustration, aggression, and general annoyance all on my side right now.

Hands dig into my arms, and after two tries I’m officially ripped off Abe. My hand is throbbing where I know I did more damage than I should’ve, but this week has been a fucking disaster. What’s a couple busted knuckles added to the mix?

“Lachlan, enough!” Ronaldo growls, and I can see a few of the guys closer to Abe tugging him away from me. His face is bloody, and I doubt at this rate I look much better.

I’ve been here, what? An hour? The coach is going to skin me for this.

Turning from Abe’s glowering eyes, I shoot Ronaldo a glare. “We need the rest of the team back to get these fucks out of my space.”

Ronaldo just shakes his head. “Unless you’ve found them, we’re SOL. The game Friday will be a tossup, and it’s going to be a total fucking loss if we’re fighting among our team.”

Yeah, I’m fairly sure he’s right about that.

“Haberman! Trujillo!”

I push away from Ronaldo as the coach stomps over to us. Without skates, he’s significantly shorter than either of us. Abe skates over to us, minding his distance as we glare at each other.

“Lachlan,” Coach says, exasperated. He’s got glasses on one of those stretchy bands to keep from losing them during practice, and a clipboard tucked under one arm that he’s threatened to whap us with on more than one occasion. “I’m giving you the chance to get back out there and this is how you repay me?”