A Hockey Player's Proposal (Oh Captain, My Captain 2)

I walk out my front door and see Selene getting in her car. She’s decked out in Mustang apparel. There is even a ribbon in her dark hair. Maybe she isn’t a stalker. She isn’t even wearing my jersey. I will say that she looks amazing. Her jeans fit her tightly, but not in a slutty way. The jersey is big, but you can still see her curves. I stand there for a second and think about last night.

I heard her argument with the jerk who thought I was a baseball player. I’ve got to give her credit for standing up to him, especially over something like hockey. I love hockey, but she loves it. Definitely a crazy fan.

Although, I’m surprised that she didn’t tell me why she loves hockey so much. Maybe an old boyfriend introduced her to the sport. I push all the thoughts out of my head about it and jump in my car. I head out of the driveway and to the arena.

Traffic is crazy on the road towards the rink. The carpet is full of fans. I park in the back and jump into the limo that will drive me around the front. Of course, Kris jumps in too.

“One player per limo. Didn’t you hear coach?”

“Aw, come on captain Rossy, can’t I ride wit you?” he asks in a childish voice.

“I really dislike you sometimes.” I shake my head at him.

“You know, I’ve known you for a long time, and you never say the word ‘hate’. Why is that?”

I shrug. “Hate is a very stern and harsh word. People overuse it. It’s like the word ‘love’. It should be saved for special occasions.”

“So, I guess you don’t hate me then?” He bumps my shoulder.

“I plead the fifth amendment on that,” I joke back.

“I don’t think that works if you’re Swedish.”

I put my hand up to him. “Stop talking because your IQ is dropping every time you say something.”

Kris busts up laughing like it’s the funniest thing he has ever heard. Why is this guy my friend again?

Finally, we make it to the front of the building and fans are screaming when Kris gets out. He throws his arms up like he is the king that just arrived. I step out and everyone screams louder. I will give the fans one thing, they’re always supporting me. Of course, I pose for a few pictures, sign some autographs, and slap some high fives. I get through the fifteen yards of red carpet and into the tunnel to the locker rooms.

Everyone is quiet in here. They’re focusing on the game ahead and winning. I will not have a repeat of last season. The Cup will not slip through my fingers again. I get my pads on and begin to tape up my shins and skates. Coach comes in, gives a quick pep talk, and we are off to warm up.

The lights are bright, making the ice shine brighter than usual. I love the feel of skating around the rink. It’s like a feeling no one can explain until they do it. I shoot a couple of pucks before I go to the center of the ice and stretch out my legs. I not only take this time to loosen up my muscles, but to check out the other team. Sometimes, it helps me during the game to see how the opposing players warm up.

After about ten minutes, we are back in the locker room. Coach announces the lines and tells us what to remember most about the game. Then we are out, walking onto the ice. I’m a little superstitious. I have to fist bump every player as they walk out of the room, and I have to be the last one out as well. I always walk behind my team. I’ve done that since my junior hockey days.

I skate around a couple of times, then it’s time to get down to business. I stare into the face of the other team’s captain, and it begins.

Sixty minutes of playing, forty minutes of resting, and a lot of yelling got us a win. My legs are burning when I get back to the locker room. I change out of my pads and do some interviews. When the media begins to clear out, I hit the shower and let the hot water soothe my tight muscles. I think I could stand here forever. Unfortunately, I have to go home. We have another game the day after tomorrow, and then the road trips begin.

Traffic isn’t as bad going home. I pull into my driveway, and I can’t wait to crawl into my bed. I’m about to unlock my door when I hear a rustling in my bush.

“Bonkers, if you don’t come here right now, I’m turning you into a purse.” I hear a harsh whisper around the corner of my porch. I roll my eyes. I walk down the stairs over to where Selene’s butt is in the air as she’s searching through my bushes. I have to say for a stalker, she has a nice ass.

“Having issues again?” I ask.

She screams and turns to me, clenching her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she semi-yells at me.

“You’re in my bushes,” I remind her.

She puts her hands on her hips. “My dog got loose again. I’ll have to get that gate fixed, so he’ll quit running from me. Plus, he doesn’t listen.”

“Bonkers? Bonkers got loose again?” Is she using that dog as an excuse? I shake my head.

“I swear. I’m truly not stalking you.”

“I can tell because you’re not wearing my jersey.” I point at her.

“What? You think you’re the only player on the Mustangs that I like? For your information, I like all the players on the team.”