When The Whistle Blows

Chapter 47

Astrid

I skated to the face-off, my breath coming in shorts bursts. My throat ached and I was more tired than usual but I wasn't about to slow down for anything.

"You're a speedy fucking thing," the winger to my left complimented me.

"Or maybe you're just slow," I shrugged and glanced at the scoreboard. It was the third period with one minute remaining. We were for sure winning this game - the score reading 4-1 thanks to some of the best teamwork I've seen all year.

The winger chuckled. "Rude, I was trying to be nice," he sounded only slightly offended as his tone was mostly lighthearted.

"You'd be the first," I scoffed.

The referee finally got to the face-off. "Good luck," I told the winger in good-spirit right as the puck dropped.

Then all was forgotten. Ryder got control of the puck and passed it back to defense. Bentley stepped up and collected the pass. I tapped my stick, waiting for the pass as a solid weight crashed into me.

Not again. I groaned as my body slammed into the boards. By some miracle I hadn't fallen to the ice, though it took me a minute to collect myself. My vision spun but quickly cleared. The defender who checked me grinned as I glared at him.

"Sorry princess," he sneered at me.

I felt anger bubble in my chest at the cheap-shot he had taken. "Fuck off, I've seen cleaner shots at a brothel," I decided to chirp back. After all, it seems all I do is allow these guys to take advantage of my smaller build on the ice. I frankly, was fed up. 

His sneer fell as he realized I was mouthing back. "You wanna fucking go? You play a man's sport, you best be ready to handle a man's punch," he dropped his stick and started shaking his gloves off.

I quickly sized him up. He was smaller than my men, around 6 feet or shorter. He was built well and could probably throw a decent punch.

Fuck it.

My stick was on the ice and my gloves followed immediately after. His hand grabbed my jersey and I did the same. Then the punching ensued. I got the first punch in, it landing satisfyingly on his cheek. His fist returned the favor soon after.

My head spun as pain radiated from the side of my face. I quickly recovered and delivered another punch. I managed to see his fist coming and ducked the incoming blow. My fist then crushed his nose and I was satisfied to see blood run down his face.

Suddenly hands pulled on my jersey, trying to separate us as another hand removed our grips on each other.

"Good fight, let's separate now," the ref struggled to say as another pulled the defender from my reach.

Ryder hovered nearby, death in his eyes as he watched the defender who was still mouthing off.

"Bitch!" The defender called out as I stopped fighting whoever was holding me.

They let me go and I turned to the referee. His hands made the motion of interference and then roughing. My teammates shouted their protest at me also getting called but they were waved off as the ref skated the defender to the penalty box.

Another ref started escorting me to the box and Ryder came skating over. He, technically, was one of the only people who could directly question the refs. Though that never stopped other players from "questioning".

"Why the fuck is she getting called?" Ryder questioned the ref. "She got fucking blindsided and defended herself."

The ref who was trying to escort me to the box was very respectful, he guided me to the box instead of taking the opportunity to manhandle me like other refs have in the past.