The Cocky Hockey Captain

Chapter 10 ● Full Hearts, Shaken Legs

Hockey was some tough shit.

Trying to follow Dean's pace made it way tougher.

The rest of the tryouts were some sort of punishment for a crime I must have committed in my previous life, because I just couldn't see what I'd done in this one to deserve this. I was an athlete as well, and boxing was grueling, but my body wasn't ready for this shit. I'd been praised a lot by Paco, my boxing trainer in Orlando, because I had excellent footwork. Strong legs were the foundation of a good boxer, after all. But those must have been different legs altogether because my current ones were burning as though I'd submerged them in boiling water, and it was all thanks to the second drill of skating side to side until we dropped.

At least I was satisfied that I was not the first one to drop. A couple of the younger kids vying for a position in the team ran out of fuel faster. One of them had the misfortune of exploding into a fountain of vomit that painted the ice in a bright orange. It was the grossest and funniest thing I'd ever seen simultaneously. The asshole whose nose I rearranged was also one of the first to give up, and it filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction.

I kept going until bile started rising up my throat. But I didn't want to Make A Scene Part 2. I hadn't cleaned the ice with my ass only to soil it with the contents of my stomach. So I let myself collapse and I struggled to suck air back into my lungs and wiped the sweat away from my face with my sleeve. I watched the last five remaining, caught between admiration and jealousy until Dean remained last. He was unnatural in his speed and resistance, even though it felt like an hour had passed of this back and forth on the ice. He only stopped when Coach got tired of watching him and started preparing us for our next drill.

It should have been easier, but the third one was all about handling the puck and I hadn't learned how to do that. Reflexes alone didn't save me and I bumbled through the entire thing abysmally.

When the fourth drill started I was seriously considering just skating off all the way back to Florida. That one was about testing our skills at defense, according to the coach, because I didn't see a hell of a lot of value into body slamming each other at that point. Especially when every one of my opponents seemed to barrel through me.

To be honest, I don't even remember what the fifth heat was about. I think at that point I was passed out because when I came to was when I found myself being escorted to the bench by someone. I looked up, groggy, and realized that my savior this time was Pace. He passed me a water bottle and my limp arms couldn't hold it up.

"Open," he said, motioning at my mouth. I did so and he squirted water from the bottle into my mouth. The jet of water made me choke for a second, but I recovered quickly and started drinking without caring that more water was pouring down the front of my jersey than into my mouth.

"Thanks," I told him with a rasp.

He smiled. "Good job. We could really use with someone with your grit in the team."

The other guys I started to consider like buddies arrived one by one and suddenly I found myself being patted by heavy gloved hands. This wasn't something that I normally would have coveted, but at that moment the gestures made me glow.

I was being accepted.

Dean joined us a moment later and he sent a nod my way. I was irritated all of a sudden that this felt even better than everybody else's gesture.

"Good job, everybody. I'm impressed by quite a few of you," Coach Martel said after one last whistle. "Be on the lookout for the results on the school board on Monday. Make sure to take care of yourselves this weekend, because training starts next week for the lucky fellows who will join the Bears this year. And for those of you who won't join us," he said as he swept his eyes across all of us. "Make sure to ice."