Page 19 of Treacherous
That is not fucking happening. I’m glad the coaches have thought ahead with their plan to build a stall in the showers.
Willow stayed behind to talk to Coach West, while Harris came with the rest of us to begin warmups. We’ve been practicing different types of shots, which was perfect as I needed to take the edge off before the session truly began.
I’m the captain, so a level head is required especially when I noticed the frustration coming from my teammates. They were also not happy with Willow’s past team and part of me cannot fucking wait to play them during the season.
“On the red line, boys!” Coach West yells. He looks to Willow, who has her skates on and is clutching her hockey stick in her right hand. “And girl.”
Willow offers Coach a small smile and joins us on the ice. The season begins in less than a month, so I’m confident we will continue to work on set plays while figuring out how she will fit into the team.
“First, I want to assess Willow so I can see her strengths and places to improve. Jayden, you’re her first opponent.”
I look toward the end of the line where Willow is standing. The smirk on her lips matches mine, and it ignites a fire in my belly.
The two of us thrive in competitive situations, especially when hockey is involved. I skate to the goal, eyes never leaving Willow as she assumes her spot at centre ice.
“Aiden, move to the left side of the ice and pass the puck to Willow.” Coach instructs.
Willow licks her lips, drawing my eyes to her mouth. I grit my teeth and tear my gaze away. No distractions. Aiden calls out to Willow, asking if she is ready. She answers by moving toward him and preparing to receive the puck.
I suck in a breath, my eyes focusing on every movement Willow is making–how she adjusts her grip, where her body is facing, anything that will give me an advantage during our one-on-one.
Aiden fires the puck toward Willow without warning but that doesn’t faze her, she snatches it and races toward me. I track her position, gripping my stick harder. I move to the left, anticipating her shot, but she catches me off guard.
In the split second that I misread her play, Willow flicks her wrist and I can only watch as the puck sails past me and into the net.
Fuck.
My head falls back and cheers of the boys fill the arena. That was a great wrist shot and I never saw it coming. From all the games I’ve watched her play, even when we used to be on the same team, she favours a slap shot.
“Good shot, Rogers. Now, do it again.”
Willow raises her eyebrows. “You want to be embarrassed again? Well, who am I to deny you?”
I bark out a laugh. “You caught me off guard once, it’s not happening again.”
Willow hums, skating closer to me. She is inches away from me, and I’m staring at her lips once more. The air charges, mumbled conversations from our teammates barely filtering into my ears. Willow stays focused on me, eyes never wavering, while using her stick to collect the puck from the net.
I hate that it sends a jolt through my body.
Willow's voice is low and enticing. “We’ll see.”
I swallow, back straightening. I shouldn't be having these thoughts. They aren't good for my health.
The two of us continue to battle it out, refusing to stop despite Coach West’s insistence. He shakes his head and lets Harris take the others to perform other drills.
Willow and I swap positions, so we can see her defensive abilities as well. Her offensive is off the fucking charts, with her variation in shot selection one of her best assets. Anticipation is a vital skill for hockey players and she has it in spades.
Eventually, sweat is dripping from me, my breathing is ragged. Willow seems to be in a similar situation.
“Time,” I say, skating past her and toward the bench.
Willow doesn’t follow me, so I pick her water bottle from her bag and bring it back. She looks between the bottle and my face, her brows raising.
“We’ve been at this for thirty minutes. We are having a break.”
“Fine.” She snatches the bottle, and my eyes lock onto her throat as she guzzles the water.
“Your shots are looking great.”
