"Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker." - Die Hard
The first day back to class after summer break was always bittersweet. On the one hand, it meant that hockey season was getting closer, but on the other, it meant I had to do schoolwork.
I didn't want to be some 'dumb jock' stereotype, I didn't think I was stupid or anything, I just didn't care about school. The only reason I was still in school was because the team that drafted me hadn't signed me yet. Usually, people like me who got drafted while they were playing NCAA hockey either got signed right away, or signed after finishing their junior year, but here I was going into my senior year.
We'd played in the frozen four for the past three years, and I knew that was impressive, but a part of me felt like the reason they hadn't signed me yet was that I still hadn't led my team to the championship. So I was determined that this year would be our year, that way I'd finally get that contract and get to follow through on my childhood dream. Plus if for some reason they still didn't sign me, after graduating I'd become a free agent again and hopefully, another team would. This season was going to be one of the most important seasons of my career.
There were a few other guys like me on the team, drafted but not signed, but most of them were sophomores or juniors. There were four other seniors on the team, one of them, Thomas Gibbs like me had been drafted and was just waiting to be signed, but the other three were all hoping to get signed as free agents after graduating, which meant we were all prepared to work our asses off even harder to win the frozen four this year. Three straight seasons of getting so close and not winning did something to you.
That being said, I'd gotten up early this morning to go on a run before classes started. Coach already had us pulling double practices since it was preseason, and even my roommates who all played with me thought I was insane for doing yet another workout, but I was captain this year. I had to lead by example and make sure everyone saw how much I wanted this, so they'd want it that badly too.
I usually liked to run outside, but this morning since I had class I'd decided to just use the campus gym, I'd been on my fifth mile when my phone buzzed telling me I had class in fifteen minutes.
Usually, I had all of my classes with other guys on the team, Teddy Coleman one of our defensemen had had the exact same schedule as I had all of junior year. He was probably the only reason I managed to make it to all my classes on time and pass them, but he'd already taken all of his general university requirements, and I had just one left. So I'd picked the one that sounded the easiest, iconic film soundtracks, not realizing that it started at 9:30 am.
So here I was at 9:15 scrambling to take a shower and then find my class on time. I'd rather be late than show up on the first day drenched in sweat from a run. On top of that, my business class was immediately after, and Coleman would give me shit if I showed up sweaty.
I managed to find the building and get to class only six minutes late, which I was honestly kind of proud of. I walked into the lecture hall and sat down in the first seat I saw, then pulled out a pencil and notebook, I didn't even notice the girl I was sitting next to at first until I felt her glaring at me.
She would've been pretty if it weren't for the massive side eye I was being given. She had kind of hazel eyes, and her light brown hair was pulled up, but looked like it was decently long. I always liked girls with long hair. She was dressed like she was supposed to be teaching the class though, not taking it. I couldn't tell if it was because of how she was dressed, or if everyone else just looked young, but it seemed like she and I were possibly the only upperclassmen taking this class.
I knew the university recommended getting all the general requirements out of the way during your first two years here, but I thought for sure that there would be a few other people in here that looked like they were old enough to drink. Some of these freshmen barely looked old enough to drive.
I was completely zoned out, mindlessly tapping my pencil against my notebook, thinking about our practice schedule this week, and what I needed to do as captain to make sure everyone was on the same page about winning when the girl next to me rudely cleared her throat.
"So," she asked expectedly. I could tell she'd probably already said something, but she looked so annoyed at me for missing it, and on the first day of class, that I couldn't feel bad about it.
"So," I asked back, completely unsure of what else to say. There was no way I'd go straight out and say I missed whatever dumb icebreaker we were probably doing.
She sighed, "So what genre do you want to focus on for the project? We need to rank them in order from what we want the most to the least." She angled her laptop towards me with a poll opened up. I glanced around and saw that everyone else in the class had the same poll opened.
"the project," I asked stupidly. Partially because I had no idea what was going on, no one had said anything about a project. When I'd asked about this class I'd been told it was just watching movies and then talking about the music in them. I also partially said it because I knew it was going to annoy her.
I hadn't even said four words to this girl yet, and I already knew exactly the kind of person she was. She was type A to a tee, probably pre-law or some equally stuck-up major, and spent all of her free time studying and organizing her pen collection. She'd do all the work on this project whether I liked it or not, then we'd both get an A because people like her never got anything below an A.
She sighed. Again. "If you'd been on time, and paying attention, you'd know that Harold just informed us that we'll be doing a quarter-long project with the person sitting next to us, focusing on a specific genre of music. Got that? Or do you need to be told a third time?"
"Twice was fine, and how much work is this project going to be, I play hockey and don't have much free time," I tried with every fiber in my being to not snap at her, it was the first day of class, and she didn't know me. She could've refrained from asking do you need to be told a third time.
"We're supposed to give a presentation on our assigned genre at the end of the quarter and the impact music has on the movies. We have to include at least 10 movies in the presentation, and my schedule is packed too so don't expect me to do all the work just because you're on the hockey team," she mock emphasizes the last part, pissing me off even more.
"Put action, comedy, and horror as the top three, and foreign and romance as the bottom two. The rest I don't care about," I try so hard to just say that, and nothing else, but before I know it, "Oh, and by the way I'm not just 'on the hockey team' I'm the captain and I bet if you removed that giant stick up your ass you'd make a lot more amiable of a partner, sweetheart." I didn't even know if I used the word amiable right, it just sounded like a fancy word my grandma would've used. I knew I shouldn't start off my quarter-long partnership this way, but I couldn't help it. There was something about this chick I just couldn't stand. Everything from the way she was dressed as if this was a job interview to her attitude just didn't sit right with me.
She arranged the icons for the different genres in order and then hit submit on the survey, "That stick up my ass is the only reason we're going to pass this assignment, and I'm not one of your hockey groupies so it's not sweetheart, it's Cassie."
"I'd say nice to meet you, but my grandma didn't raise a liar. I'm Hayden, Hayden West, but you probably already knew that."
"I didn't actually," she replies, "If you ever left the little hockey bubble you live in you'd realize a majority of the world doesn't actually revolve around the school's hockey team."
"That's a shame, I'd be happy to enlighten you, the grass really is greener over here," I respond knowing I don't sound nearly as cool as I want to, but having no idea what else to say as a comeback. At this point, I'm hardly even thinking, I'm just spitting out words hoping they're some good jab at this stuck-up, rude, obnoxious girl.
Before she can respond, the professor whose name I've already forgotten calls attention back to the class and resumes going over the project. I pull out my phone and pretend to be texting just to piss off Cassie. She looks like she's about ready to explode as class ends and we walk out.
Then of course she and I happen to be walking in the same direction and I'm fearing for my life that she'll somehow be in my next class as well when she turns into the physics building which is directly across from the hall my business class is in. My annoyance is replaced with shock for a moment, I wouldn't have pegged her to be a physics student.
As soon as I walk into my business class, I take a seat next to Coleman and a few other guys I know and immediately try to forget all about Cassie and the hell that's going to be this quarter-long film project. Hopefully, we'll be able to do it as individually as possible. I don't know if I could handle watching an entire movie with her.
"Dude, it's the first day of class you can't seriously be this done already," Coleman asked me after a few minutes of me absolutely failing to not think about how awful that first class went. I just can't get this girl off my mind, and not in a good way.
"I'm stuck working on a quarter-long project with the most uptight bitch I've ever met for my film class."
"She hot?"
"Dude!"
"What it'd be a win. She'd come out less uptight and you'd just cum"
"You're nowhere near as funny as you think you are," I respond shaking my head and lightly punching him in the shoulder. Sex was the last thing on my mind when it came to Cassie, it didn't matter that she was hot, personality could and in this case, very much did overshadow looks.
I didn't have much of a dating life anyways. I'd hook up now and again but wasn't looking for anything serious or any drama, if it took my focus away from hockey then it didn't matter. I hadn't been in a serious relationship since high school, and besides I'd have time for casual flings after we won the frozen four. My teammates all thought I was somewhat insane for this policy, but I'd seen, hell I'd felt what relationship drama could do to someone's game and I was not here for it. Hockey was more important than any of that shit.
My business classes went by fast, Coleman and I switched off who had to pay attention each day, and today was his day so I split my time between planning this week's team dinner, and writing 'optional' extra workouts for the guys willing to step up and go the extra mile. Soon enough we were walking through the doors of the rink, the one place where I really felt at home.
There wasn't anything like stepping onto the ice, especially when you're in your home arena. I knew this place like the back of my hand, and there was something freeing about being on the ice. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was how well I played and not to be cocky, but I played damn well.
Since it was our first day back, Coach Jones had told us if we made it through an hour and a half of conditioning he'd let us scrimmage for the last ten minutes of practice. That meant he was making the conditioning extra challenging, but it'd be worth it to get to simulate being in a game for a few minutes.
Coach Jones was young, he was maybe thirty and had only been the head coach for two years before I started here. He'd played in college, we'd found a highlight video of him scoring a hat trick during the playoffs, he could've gone pro for sure, but hadn't and none of us knew why. We were all glad he didn't though, he was a hell of a coach and knew the game better than anyone I'd ever met. I'd be surprised if he did anything other than think about hockey.
"Okay Sailors," he called out after some of the most grueling conditioning work we'd done all of the preseason. Seaport University's mascot was a sailor, which was in theory kind of badass when you thought of like Popeye or something, but in reality, the physical mascot we got was a seagull wearing a sailors hat. We did all have a strong appreciation for the sailor costumes the cheerleaders wore though.
We split into teams to scrimmage and I was with my roommate and usual line, Thomas Gibbs and Brandon Payne. The three of us, along with Coleman all lived together and I think that was part of why we worked so well together, we were almost always with one another.
In our Sophomore year, we'd lived in the same house as a majority of the team, but we'd pretty quickly realized that living in a house full of d1 athletes wasn't that different from living in a frat house and decided to get an apartment after that. Living with just the three of them was a lot more peaceful, and during the season I needed that. Living in the hockey house there'd been so many parties and girls and it was probably the least focused I'd been my whole career.
I made a note to myself as I thought about that to stop by the house more often this season to check in and make sure things weren't complete chaos. I knew nothing would stop the partying and hookups, it was college and we were the best team on campus, but maybe I could at least condense it to primarily after games instead of before them, or before exams. The last thing we needed was half the team on the bench because they were failing a class.
After getting back that night I shut myself into my room instead of gaming with the guys like normal. It could not be healthy to be this stressed the first day back, but I knew that stress wouldn't go away till we were celebrating a championship in the spring.
"Yo West," I heard Coleman pounding on my door.
"What," I shouted back.
"Half off beer night at the Lighthouse, whole teams going."
"The hell," I called out, grabbing my phone and seeing the insane number of notifications from the hockey team group chat. "Guess we're drinking tonight."
There was no way I'd be able to stop the guys from having fun, and let's face it I could use a drink about now, but if I was there I could at least make sure no one got so shitfaced that they did something too stupid.
This was going to be a long night.