Power Plays & Straight A's (CU Hockey 1)

Seth shoots me another look. “I guess I should be glad he didn’t give you one of his.”

I’m not sure why it makes a difference. Possibly because while Seth’s jersey is large on me, it’s nothing like it would have been if I’d borrowed one of Foster’s. I’m tempted to hug it to me. “You’re right, that would have looked ridiculous.”

“More ridiculous.”

I laugh. “Yes, more.”

We pause by the doors, and Seth pulls me aside. “You sure you’re okay with this? You’re not doing it because of pride or something?”

“That’s a ridiculous concept.”

“Well … then to impress Foster. I don’t know. This so isn’t like you.”

I eye the crowd making its way into the building. “It’s hardly impressive when he won’t even know I’m here.”

“Do you want him to?”

“I want him to know I followed through.”

Seth gets that crease between his eyebrows that always happens when he’s worried.

“It’s a matter of dignity,” I explain.

“I’m only going to ask this once …” He looks pained as he turns back to me. “Do you have a thing for my brother?”

“He’s … fine.” My words try to stick in my throat.

“Come on, Zach, you know what I’m asking.”

I do. My shaking hands make it very clear. “I don’t know him well enough to answer that question.” I look away. “But I do find him very, uh, attractive. Obviously. I’m not the only one though. Half of campus clearly—no, a third, wait, I mean … What’s between a quarter and a third?”

Seth stares at me for a moment. “You sure you’re okay to go in?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” My cheeks feel hot.

“Morris.”

“Oh.” Morris. The flood of whatever it was that tied my brain into knots, ebbs. Whenever I think of Morris, I think of complete loss of control. I never knew when I saw him coming toward me whether I’d be allowed to keep walking or find myself on the ground, but I did know whichever option he chose, I’d be powerless to stop it. All I could do was let it happen, and after a while, I’d tricked myself into thinking that letting him have his way was my choice. “He’ll be too busy with the game to even remember my existence.”

“Yes, but he’s a hockey player, and you’re about to walk into an arena full of them. After last year, doesn’t that make you, I don’t know, nervous or something?”

“Why would it?”

“You were bullied by hockey players.”

“No, I was bullied by Morris. Are you saying I should be stereotyping all hockey players as bullies? Because your brother plays hockey, and he’s never been anything but nice to me.”

Seth shakes his head like he doesn’t know what to do with me. “Okay, let’s go.”

We go inside and take our seats, waiting for things to start. It’s apparent there are clear sides among the spectators, and Seth joins me on the CU side where I can blend in with the other jerseys.

“Mom and Dad are here somewhere,” Seth says.

“Pity we can’t see them.” Now that we’ve found our seats, I’m determined not to move again until the game is over.

The atmosphere is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and as it gets closer to the start time, the crowd gets louder. A fight breaks out a little down from us, and security escorts the delinquents out.

“Isn’t the fighting supposed to happen on the ice?” I muse, watching them go.

“Not with this game. The rivalry is next level. Just you wait.”

The lights go out and then commentary takes over, announcing the teams as they skate out.

They do a quick skate around the rink, each team sticking to their side of the ice, but it’s as if you can feel the animosity and anger between them.

We have to endure a pitchy rendition of the national anthem, and then it’s game on.

My gaze follows Foster as he skates to the middle of the ice.

I understand the game completely.

Right up until they start playing.

From there, I’m lost. Not only because it’s a game I know nothing about—except the puck, I’ve got that terminology down pat—but because of Foster. He skates like he owns the ice, and I can’t look away. Because … chemicals. Buzzy, twitchy, consuming chemicals that make everything but him disappear.

Players are constantly switching out, and it makes my brain hurt. One minute Foster’s on the ice, and the next he’s not.

It’s a scoreless game and quite boring if I’m honest. The only time I get remotely interested is when Foster’s out there.

I can hardly be blamed for it either with the way he skates. He’s everywhere on the ice. Fast, strong, and—

Slam!

Foster shoves someone into the, umm, boards so hard it makes me jump. This wasn’t a warning knock like at training. This was … I’m not sure.

After that, it’s like a switch flips and they’re all out for blood. Welcome to the Hunger Games. Foster’s not the only one working out some aggression. I can hardly believe most of these moves are legal. Surely, it’s only a matter of time before someone is badly injured. My attention has been successfully pulled from Foster until a few minutes later when he slams his hockey stick into someone’s legs.