Page 285 of Well Played

Ineedto 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 swearthis 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?”

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