Page 11

Crew

I couldn’t stop thinking about my revenge.

I was practically fantasizing about it throughout the day, trying to decide what the best way to get Kota back would be.

It had been a few days since she pulled her “genius” prank and I wanted to wait a few more until I got her back, solely so that she wouldn’t know when it was coming. I was sort of hoping she’d just reach a point where she thought she was in the clear, that I’d forgotten all about her little shenanigans.

But if that was a thought of hers, she was way off.

I wanted to think of something that was a bit personal, something that would really set her off. The only thing I could think of messing with of hers was her snacks. But I felt like my options with that were a bit more limited. It wasn’t like I could poison her. For starters, I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I wasn’t a psychopath— yet sometimes I wondered if she was. I just simply wanted to get under her skin.

But for the time being, I needed to forget about my revenge. Because we had a game to play tonight.

The first game of the season was always an important one, because however you played was going to set the tone for the rest of the season. And when the first game was a home game, the pressure went up, because your entire school was watching you, prepared to either kneel at your feet or give you some harsh words depending on what the scoreboard looked like at the end of the third period.

I felt pretty prepared to step onto the ice later. Meanwhile, I could feel Lane’s nerves radiating off him from beside me.

It was his first game as captain, which meant he’d be the biggest target if things went south during this game. It was already a lot of pressure having the entire school looking at you, but to have the entire team looking at you as well? That’d be way too much for me to handle.

There wasn’t another player that could lead the team as well as him though.

Lane and I finished up gelling our hair in the bathroom. I whistled as I washed my hands, waiting until Lane was done doing the same.

We stood side by side, glancing at ourselves in the mirror.

Suiting up to head to the arena was a hockey tradition, and at Cedar U, we made sure it was upheld. We took pride in looking sharp, every single one of us. Even Cody and TJ always dressed to the nines, and they were some of the laziest motherfuckers I knew when it came to off-ice time.

Lane was in a cobalt blue suit with brown dress shoes. He looked like he was ready to walk onto the red carpet.

My black suit and dark purple tie matched perfectly, and I pulled down on my suit jacket, making sure it was as crisp as possible.

Lane smiled. “We look good.”

I held my fist out and he bumped it. “We always do.”

“Are you ready to win this fucking game?”

“Ready as hell,” I replied, following him out of the bathroom. I could hear the girls talking in the kitchen and when we stepped into the common area, both of their attention drew to us.

I watched Kota’s sandwich stop halfway to her mouth. She stayed there for a moment, frozen like a strange statue before she blinked rapidly, wrestling her gaze away from me.

When I glanced at Bridget, her expression matched Kota’s. She seemed not to be as concerned with hiding it though.

I could feel the imperceptible smirk that danced across my lips as I fixed the cuff of my suit. “Well, don’t drool over us.”

Kota let out a quick rush of air, sounding flustered. “We’re not drooling.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, feeling a divergent sense of satisfaction that I’d never felt before.

Don’t get me wrong, my ego always went up when girls looked at me this way, but it was completely different when it was coming from my arch nemesis.

It made me feel a sense of triumph. I hadn’t gotten her back yet, but this was a pretty damn good start to me. Because even though I wasn’t pulling a prank on her, I could physically see that I was affecting her.

Kota usually never had a problem looking someone in the eye, but she was struggling to do so at the moment. I spoke again just to challenge her. “Are you guys coming to our game?”

She was aimlessly poking at anything and everything on the kitchen island, pretending to be occupied for the sake of not looking in our direction.

But she gave herself away further by her distraught tone. “Why would we do that? We spend enough fucking time under the same roof as you two.”

Because Bridget didn’t have a single mean bone in her body, she gave a friendly smile, acting like her best friend didn’t just insult us. “We’ll be there.”

“Cool,” Lane said.

Taking one last look at Kota, I soaked in the snapshot because I knew damn well that I’d probably never see it in real life again.

“See ya,” I said as we slung our hockey bags over our shoulders and headed out.

***

The air was electric. The entire team was vivacious. And I was ready to beat some ass on the ice.

Hours and hours of practice had led us to this game. There was a lot of pressure on our starting line since we were all veterans and everyone looked up to us, and I hoped I delivered tonight.

When it was time to warm up, we hit the ice. My favorite part about home games was observing the sea of black and silver, our school colors, that filled the student section.

Even though my parents hated each other and of course never sat closer than two sections away from one another, they both tried to come to all our games, especially my dad. He played hockey growing up and fell in love with the sport, encouraging me to get into it at a young age.

Although it was always special having my family in the crowd, there was something so meaningful about having our peers there to cheer us on.

As a college student myself, I understood how busy life could get. Everyone had their own things going on— homework, sports, parties, or things in their personal lives, which was why it meant that much more knowing people took time out of their day to come watch us play.

North Dakota skated around full force on their half, warming up. They played well last year, making it into the tournament and winning the first game. But they fell short in the second, losing in overtime to Minnesota State.

It was a similar situation to us. We too lost in the second round of the tournament last year during overtime to Western Michigan. It was a brutal loss, one that still haunts each and every one of our team members to this day.

We had been up for the entire game, up until the third period. That was the worst part. Everything went to shit right towards the end, right when it all mattered the most. That was the thing about hockey— everything could change in an instant.

Whenever I thought hard about that loss, the feelings and memories came rushing back.

The heartbreak of being within reach of everything you’d ever wanted, only for all of it to be ripped away.

The exhaustion of playing at such a high and intense level for so long, only for it to not be enough.

The time and energy you’d put towards the dream, day in and day out, only for it to be worth nothing in the end.

I never wanted to feel that way again.

Now, North Dakota was said to have come back stronger, and experts had deemed them to be a lethal force this year.

With it being the first game, along with how good our opponents were said to be, I was nervous; I refused to show it though. I knew winning this game wouldn’t fill the void that our tournament loss left, but it would definitely ease the burn and give us some motivation going into the season.

I wanted to win. Not in overtime. Not by just one goal. But by a fucking landslide.

After getting some stretches in and taking shots at Cody to help him warm up as our starting goalie, my eyes scanned the silver jerseys for 1 , Lane’s number.

We usually found each other before every game, having our own moment to hype each other up before we headed back to the locker room for some words of encouragement from both Coach Palmer and Lane.

When I noticed him facing the glass, standing still, my brows knitted together. Lane never stood still during warmup. Ever. He was usually the one who was swerving in and out of everyone like a psychopath, not wasting a single second of warmup time.

Skating carefully through Jett and Matt as they passed a puck back and forth, I headed over, catching a familiar sight through the glass.

Mouth agape, I was no longer paying attention to where I was going, crashing right into Lane. He gave my shoulder a light push, but I ignored it.

Kota’s smug, fiery grin reminded me of a cartoon villain, all picturesque and wicked as she stood there so confidently in something she had no fucking business wearing.

I recognized my jersey when I saw it. The number. The colors. The custom stitching of a stallion on the shoulder. But even though it was right in front of my face, I was still in denial.

“Are those our fucking jerseys?” I growled to Lane, unable to take my eyes away from the catastrophe in front of me.

Bridget was dressed in Lane’s jersey, and it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. As casually as ever, he mumbled, “Looks like it.”

I could feel my jaw come unhinged. For how cold this arena was, it couldn’t ease the inferno growing inside my body. The corners of Kota’s eyes crinkled with delight as she studied me, wondering if I was going to snap and knowing a thick divider of tempered glass sat between us.

I didn’t hesitate to bang my fist against it. “Take my fucking jersey off, Kota!”

That malevolent gleam in her eye only brightened at my reaction. Blowing a perfect bubble of pink bubblegum, she brought up both middle fingers and held them there.

God fucking dammit. This girl is going to be the death of me.

Blood boiling in my veins, I wanted to break my own hockey stick over my knee.

Not only had she beaten me down with bitchy comments and used my discomforts against me, but now she was taking my stuff? Stuff that actually meant something to me? Stuff I worked my ass off to earn?

My spot on this team was not guaranteed; it was earned. And now, my least favorite person was exploiting that for her own entertainment.

I knew she was only wearing it to get a rise out of me, and I hated that I was giving her what she wanted, but I couldn’t help myself.

And what pissed me off the most? She looked kind of good in it.

Her dark hair cascaded smoothly over the thick fabric, and the light blush she had swiped over her cheeks was the perfect contrast to the dark material.

I didn’t want people around us to get the wrong idea though. I’d never had a girl wear my jersey. And for this to come so soon after she told my recent conquest that we’d been dating, it brought this nightmare to a whole new level.

Lane was cracking up beside me. “This isn’t funny!” I shouted at him. “She’s gonna get her germs all over it!”

With a light shake of his head, I caught his eyes jumping across the arena for a moment at our opponents. He closed the small gap between us, leaning in. “Look, we can deal with this later. Right now, we have a game to play.”

Eyes trailing upwards, I took in North Dakota once again. And just like earlier, that same, competitive spark carried through me.

I didn’t bother giving Kota another glance as I nodded to Lane with a tight jaw and skated away.