Dirty Little Secret

eight | power play

Lucas

"Pass the puck dammit!"

Beads of sweat trickle into my eyes and I quickly blink them away as the whistle blows. I stop pushing my blades against the ice and go for a toe drag before coming to a complete stop.

"Minnesota. Number thirteen, Jaucklyn. Two-minute minor for tripping." The ref announces.

The forward is led to the penalty box as the rest of us get into position for the face-off.

My shift is over here soon, which means I get to go home soon.

"Dude, play the fucking game," Corey mutters as he skates passed me.

I grip my stick tighter in agitation. "I'm playing the best I fuckin' can."

"You're distracted." Corey points out. "Quit moping around. You can cry about her later."

His words just make my next hits against Minnesota even harder.

When I step onto the bench, one of the assistant coaches pats my back.

I take a seat next to Corey and lean forward with my head hung low.

"What the fuck is going on with you these days? Are you seriously in love with the girl?"

I grind my molars together. "Knock it off, Corey. I'm not in the mood for this."

When the buzzer sounds, I'm standing up and walking faster than I should be for how much ice time I just had.

"Lucas, come on, man." Corey takes larger steps to catch up with me. "I'm not trying to be an ass, but what the hell is going on with you?"

"I don't fuckin' know," I grumble, pulling my helmet off. "I just feel... off. Just drop it."

"I don't want to drop it," Corey states. "You're so worried about other people all the time. Who the hell is taking care of you?"

"I can take care of myself," I tell him as I rip my gear off.

Corey grunts. "Quit being a stubborn ass."

Coach comes into the changing room last and rips us a new one. We've been in a weird rut all season. We've barely even won any games. It's embarrassing.

St.Timothy's hockey team is a two-time consecutive Frozen Four winner, and we barely made it out of the pre-season matches. I've got both of those wins under my belt, plus my Freshman year we made it to the Finals--even though we didn't win. I should be able to play some defense well enough to block a shot on the goal more times than I currently have been.

"I'll see you later," I tell Corey after showering and getting dressed.

I hike my hockey bag onto my shoulder and dig my phone out of my pocket. Slipping in my earbuds, I make my way through the crowd, avoiding conversation.

I almost make it to the doors without interruption when a hand lands on my bicep. I turn my head to see a perky blonde I vaguely recognize. "Oh, hey," I say when I pull out a single AirPod, and the song pauses.

"You did so good out there." She beams up at me.

"Thanks."

"So listen, there's a party at the Sig house tonight. You're coming, right?" The blonde peers up at me through her false lashes.

"Er, I might make an appearance."

Her eyes light up. "You promise? I'd love a repeat of last year's hookup."

My eyes narrow as I try to pinpoint who the girl is. When I realize she's waiting for an answer, I cross my fingers behind my back, plaster a smile on my face, and say, "I'll be there."