"Aww, glad I could help out. Race you to the other end?"
"You're on."
We took off, digging our skates into the ice, and we both laughed as we shot ourselves down the rink. As we raced, I understood that maybe I was starting to find my place on the team.
As more players arrived, the scraping of skates, smacking of pucks against sticks, and general banter filled the arena with sound. As Quinn skated off to greet another player, I spotted Sergei stretching by the boards and skated up to him.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you about Vladivostok since you mentioned it yesterday. Where is it? Anywhere near Moscow?"
I raised a rare chuckle from deep inside his broad chest. "You need Google Maps. She's much closer to Tokyo than Moscow."
Tilting my head to the right, I tried to place the items on my mental globe. "And that seaweed. Do you eat that a lot at home?"
Sergei straightened up. "That's true. We eat many kind of seaweed, mostly kelp. It's not like Moose's chips, though. We eat it in soups, salads, and drink tea."
"Seaweed tea?" I wrinkled my nose. "What's that taste like?"
"Like the ocean in a cup." Sergei shrugged. "Maybe it's an acquired taste."
"Fascinating." I grinned up at his rare smile with a tooth missing. "Maybe you could teach Moose and me a little about eating seaweed."
"Maybe, but first, you teach the team about your speed, da? Show them small can mean fast."
I bumped his chest with my glove. "Thanks, I appreciate that."
Before he could say more, Coach Fraser's whistle cut through all of the noise. "Alright, men. Let's get started with speed drills. Show me what you've got."
Did he say speed?That was my wheelhouse.
I lined up with the rest of the team at the goal line. At the sound of the whistle, I burst forward, my skates almost taking flight. The world around me blurred, and my world narrowed to the burn in my lungs and sting on my cheeks.
Crossing the finish line, I turned to see everyone eating my dust. Blaise, our self-proclaimed master of speed, frowned like he'd sucked on a lemon.
"Again," Coach ordered.
As we lined up, Axel glanced at me and slightly shook his head.Challenge accepted, old man.
I pushed even harder the second time around, my thighs on fire. I pushed past the pain and won by an even wider margin. It was a victory, and my teammates were my witnesses.
After practice, the usual buzz of chattering conversations filled the locker room. While I unlaced my skates, Blaise sat on the bench next to me.
"Nice skating out there, Novak." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "But you know, speed isn't everything. Wait till you've got a guy twice your size in your way. It's like skating—BAM!—into a brick wall." He chuckled.
I stood, my chest nearly touching Blaise's. "Speed isn't my only asset. I'm no one-trick pony." My voice was low and firm. "I've dealt with guys bigger than you my whole career."
His eyebrows shot up. "Oh yeah? And how'd that work out for you, pipsqueak?"
"Well enough to land me here," I gestured around the locker room. "Same as you."
"We'll see how long that lasts." Blaise sneered, and he gave me a light shove.
I planted my feet, refusing to step back. "Why wait? How about we settle this now? One-on-one drill. We'll see if you can catch me."
A hush fell over the locker room. Blaise's face reddened, but before he could respond, Sergei's deep voice cut through the tension.
"Speed is a weapon." He stepped between us. "And Novak has a good gun. Size means nothing if you can't catch what you're trying to hit."
Blaise rolled his eyes, but I nodded my appreciation at Sergei.