Page 13 of Unlovable Player

“Why do you hate me Captain?”

Because you’re an entitled asshole?

“Every person on this team had to fight for their spot. There’s no room for anyone who doesn’t take it seriously.”

He frowns. “Who says I don’t take it seriously?”

“Your whole attitude-” He’s looking at me like I’m speaking Spanish or some shit and I realize I’m wasting my breath. “Forget it.”

I shrug him off and head back into the bar.

We’reon fire in our next home game against Union College. Despite a strong start from the visiting team, Olivetti is a steel cage, batting away every shot on goal like it’s nothing.

Every nerve in my body tingles when I win the puck in a neutral zone face-off and breakaway, my heart pounding in my ears, the goal straight ahead.

Our first line defense clears a path for me like a fucking snowplow and it’s just me against Union’s goalie. I’m so pumped on adrenaline, I barely notice the puck going in the back of the net until the lamp lights up and my teammates practically knock me to the ice.

After that, the floodgates open. A goal from one of our third line freshmen makes it two and Coach rotates the front lines out to give some of our seasoned benchwarmers some ice time.

I sit on the bench, catching my breath and drinking water, my knee bouncing as adrenaline pumps through my veins. If I could just stay on the ice 24/7, I’d be happy. No thinking about anything else. Just this. Pure adrenaline and the roar of the crowd.

I don’t even notice Yale sitting next to me until he leans in close says something. His voice makes me flinch, snapping me out of the good moment I’d been enjoying.

“Huh?”

“I said good goal Captain.” He slaps me on the back. He was complimenting me, right? So why does every word out of his mouth sound like a fucking insult?

Coach sends us both back out after another freshman scores our third goal of the first period. Union look defeated, but they’re not giving up yet.

We battle to the end of the period. Yale taking the first face-off and giving someone else his bullshit for once. I guess there is one silver lining to having him on our side.

In the second period, Union come out with everything to play for. I won’t be surprised if Olivetti’s saved forty-plus goals by the end of the game. He’s standing on his head out there. If ever anyone could be everywhere at once, it’s him. I just hope to fuck I don’t have to go up against him too many times in the majors. The thought of graduation, being a rookie again, makes my insides turn to ice. I focus on the game I’m playing right now. On winning the puck. Making sure every shot is on target.

After a goalless second period, we go into the third relieved, while Union look frustrated and out for blood. We just have to keep our cool. Hold our advantage. Come out of this game with a clean sheet. A fourth goal would be nice, but not essential. We lock up tight so Union can’t get shit through. Coach still mixing it up with the lines and putting Yale on before Gray gets a penalty for hooking.

Even on a power play, Union can’t get their shit together and I manage to breakaway, this time, I have more players to barrel through and get swarmed as I make it into the kill zone. I look up to see who’s with me, and of course, only Yale is free. I pass to him and he’s on it, scoring a beauty of a slapshot from the wing.

The home crowd go nuts and Yale comes barreling into me. The smell of his stupid cologne and sweat all up in my nostrils.

“Good shot,” I mumble. He skates away from me backwards, grinning like a fucking idiot.

Coach comesinto the locker room after the game and everyone stops what they’re doing to pay attention. He’s not a loud guy. Not someone who has to throw their weight around, and I think the players respect him more because of it.

“I don’t have to remind you we play again tomorrow,” he says, a wry smile on his face. There are a few groans from a couple of the freshmen. “Don’t worry, you can celebrate when you kick UConn’s butts.

Cheers. I let myself get caught up in the mood. When I glance across the locker room, my gaze finds Yale and he’s looking right at me.

SEBASTIAN

Sometimes I forget how fun hockey is until I’m playing. Practise can suck sometimes, especially when the coach has us doing bag skates or some stupid endurance shit like that, but a game, an actual competitive game, with every seat filled in the arena – that’s fun.

What was even more fun was scoring that goal with an assist from my moody, hot captain. He even took that stick out of his ass for long enough to smile in the locker room afterwards. And I’ve got to say, as much as I love his scowl, the smile is definitely a contender.

He throws another ratty black hoodie on after the game and this time I recognize the band name and store it away for future conversations. Just to mess with him, of course.

Despite Coach’s reminder not to go out drinking after the game, most of the guys leave together like they have plans. I consider following. Being that annoying little prick no one wants around. But I’m not in the mood. I’m tired and I want to bask in that goal a little longer before I have to wake up to reality and the fact none of my teammates like me.

You’re not there to make friends Sebastian –my dad’s voice pops into my head.If you want to be successful, you can’t be afraid of being disliked.

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