Page 281 of Well Played

“Are you ready for me to skate circles around you?” Nicolette asks.

“Just stay out of my way and try to keep up,” I snap back, already focusing on the music so that I don’t miss my cue.

“That’s cute,” she replies, in an overly perky way that doesn’t match the daggers she’s glaring at me. “Don’t you know you slow down in your old age? It’syouwho’ll be trying to keep up with me.”

“You’re only three years younger than me.”

“Actually, you’re an October kid, right? At least that’s what your bio says. I’m late August, so nearly four years younger than you. Four years of youth and spry joints that work the way they should. So good luck keeping up, old timer… Oh, by the way, Dell mentioned you had an injury you were still getting over. Better keep an eye on that. I’d hate for you to have to drop out because something bad happened.”

3

Tarak

Jetlag can suck a dick.I’ve never had my ass kicked so hard. I’m so freaking tired. I keep waking up and wondering what fucking time it is, what time zone I’m in, and before I can figure it out, I’m drifting back off again.

I’ve fucking wasted the few days’ practice time I had ahead of my stupid bullshit tryouts, and now I’m finally with it enough to do something about it, my tryouts aretomorrow.

I wish I could channel the cocky, arrogant ass I become on the ice all the time, but it’s exhausting being that guy. There’s too much riding on tomorrow to just smirk and say I’ve got this.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I groan when I realise it’s already noon. I quickly bring up the details for the arena Rhys met me at, then blanch when I see the cost of hiring the space for an hour. I don’t have that kind of money. Shooting a message to Rhys to find out what my other options are, I realise that I need to shower and get my shit together. And put in some serious time on the ice today and tomorrow morning ahead of the tryouts. I’m not a shoo-in. I can’t assume that the spot on theteam will be handed to me just because I took a long flight to be here.

Luckily, Rhys texts me straight back, telling me to use the university rink. Fuck, I must be jetlagged because I forgot all about it. Of course, I researched UCC when Rhys made his offer. I just forgot that they had a training rink available for free to all of their ice sports students.

I haul my ass out of bed and stagger into my en suite. Thank God I don’t have to share a bathroom with a load of other people. I’m eternally grateful for my scholarship providing a private bathroom, even without the opportunity to play the sport I love. Turning the shower on, I crank the heat right up before stepping under the powerful spray.

“Fuck!” I jump right back out again.

That shit ishot. Back home, the water never truly got hot enough to soothe the aches and pains after a match, so I always set the temperature right up as hot as it would go. Clearly, that won’t be necessary here.

With more finesse, I set the temperature to something more bearable. Still hot enough to burn, but not enough to strip my skin from my skull.

It makes me feel human, though I have to settle for stealing the bar of hand soap from the sink to wash with because I haven’t bothered unpacking yet. I really should, though. Fuck knows where my toothbrush is. Probably still buried in the depths of my backpack from the layover.

Just in case I don’t find it, I give my teeth a thorough scrubbing with hot water and my finger, happy that it’ll do in a pinch.

Shutting off the water and stepping out, I grab a towel off the heated rail. Holy shit, how the other half live… I mean, back home, there really isn’t any need for heated towels, even if we could afford them, but here, I could get used to this.

Once dry, I pull open my kit bag and check it’s stocked with everything I need for a solid session on the ice. Thanks to forward planning, I always keep extra deodorant in there, so I apply some to my under arms now. I top up my drink bottle and add that, along with some snacks, into the bag. Flipping open my suitcase, I grab some clean socks—chicken nuggets with little winky faces this time—and boxers, then I rummage for some joggers and a training jersey and pull everything on. I add my runners and feel good to go.

I’m ready to hit the ice and put in a hard sesh, ready to show the Cavaliers what I’m capable of tomorrow. The Raiders don’t stand a chance against me, but making the team and being part of the team aren’t the same thing. I need to show them all that I not only belong on the team, but that theyneedme to be.

Shouldering my kitbag, I exit my dorm and head out across campus. There was a welcome pack left on my desk, and although I didn’t read it, I did scan over the map to know roughly which direction to head in to find the rink. I think it’s awesome that the uni has its own rink. One of the first things I plan to do after my skate is message Rhys and ask how the system works. Do I need to book a time, or can I just turn up? I’m hoping it’s the latter, but it would be nice to have protected time slots where I can guarantee the ice to myself.

The campus looks nice enough, even if the weather is kind of sucky. I get that it’s summer here, versus winter back home, but still, if this is as good as their summers get…well, living here could be pretty grim. On the plus side, if it’s this cold in summer, the winters must bereallycold, and I might even have the chance to skate on real outdoor ice. Like a frozen pond or a lake or something, like they show in the movies.

Yeah, I can just see me having a little meet cute out on the ice with a little puck bunny in a bobble hat and gloves. Maybe I need to get myself a bobble hat. Sure as hell wouldn’t be pashing witha figure skater, though. I stay well away from them. They’re all a bunch of psychos. Every last one of them I ever met, including my crazy-ass ex.

On second thoughts, I probably shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than hockey and my scholarship. Still, the fantasy was nice while it lasted, which is about the same length of time as my previous relationships, Miss Psycho Skater excluded. There’s six months of my life I’m never getting back.

The training rink comes into view, and I realise I’ve paid zero attention to my surroundings and have missed most of what UCC has to offer. Whatever. There will be time to explore once I’ve secured my spot on the team. Until then, there’s no point getting comfortable.

Searching for the main entrance, I notice the posters decorating the walls of the rink. Every other poster features the hockey team in either a group shot or a star player in their bright blue jerseys. I’ll need to think about what pose to use for mine. Maybe a side profile to match the knight on the team logo.

Tearing open the door to the building, I practically skip into the foyer, barely able to contain my excitement in my body. I follow the muffled sounds of music coming from the main arena and grab the door handles with both hands, ready to make my entrance.

The door doesn’t budge. The hell?

It rattles as I throw my bag to the ground and try it again. I start to wonder if this is some kind of trick, but no, it remains closed.

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