Ice & Prejudice

Chapter 2

Nik's POV:

I peel off my helmet, my medium-blond hair damp with sweat, and run a hand through it as I step off the ice. The clatter of skates against the concrete floor of the rink echoes around me, a sound that's become part of my life. Practice was brutal today, but that's how I like it. Hockey is more than just a game to me—it's everything. It's the only thing that makes sense when the rest of my life feels like it's spinning out of control. It's a sport with lots of physical contact, so if you're scared of getting hurt, better stay off the ice. 

I toss my helmet into my locker, trying to push aside the thoughts gnawing at the back of my mind. My grades are a disaster, especially in psych, and if I don't pull them up soon, I'm screwed.

As I'm unlacing my skates, Harvey and Dickie come up on either side of me. Harvey's grinning like he always is, his blond hair still somehow perfectly in place despite practice. Dickie's got that easygoing look about him, like nothing ever really gets under his skin. They've been my best friends since freshman year, and they're two of the best guys on the team.

Harvey says, slapping me on the back. "You coming out to Greek Row after the game tomorrow, right? Kappa's throwing one of their legendary parties again."

"Yeah, man," Dickie chimes in, leaning against the locker next to mine. "They're saying this one's gonna be even bigger than last time. You gotta be there. Wouldn't be the same without our captain leading the charge."

I smirk, leaning back against the locker. "You know I never miss a good party," I say, keeping my tone light. "But we've gotta win tomorrow first. Priorities, boys."

Harvey laughs, shaking his head. "You're such a tryhard, Nik. Oh, that reminds me." Harvey's eyes start glinting with mischief as a grin plasters on his face. "Remember Emily Thompson from last year?"

"Blonde?" Dickie asks.

Harvey nods. "Yeah, I saw her at Dylan's party on Tuesday, and she has like the biggest rack now." He motions with his hands at his chest, in an attempt to show us how big her chest has gotten.

Dickie and I chuckle. Harvey is a boob guy through and through. Me? I've learned to appreciate the entirety of a woman's body. There are perks with everything. Boobs, ass, thighs, hips,... I love 'em all equally. I'm a gentleman like that.

"Yeah," I reply, though my mind is already wandering back to the conversation I'm dreading with Coach Gibson.

I laugh with them, but it's half-hearted. They're good guys—hell, they're my best friends—but they don't get it. They don't know how close I am to losing my place on the team. I don't want them to worry just yet. To them, I'm just their cocky, confident captain and best friend who's got it all figured out. And that's exactly how I want it to stay for now.

As I finish up and grab my jacket, I hear Coach Gibson's voice cutting through the locker room. "Wolves, a word."

"Uh-oh, someone's been a naughty boy." Dickie jokes with Harvey and Noah, another one of my best friends. I throw them a dry, unimpressed look, the kind that says, "Wow, hilarious." My gaze lingers just long enough to make my point before I turn away. They just grin like idiots, I shake my head.

My stomach tightens. Gibson isn't the type to waste words, and if he's pulling me aside, it's not to tell me I'm doing a great job. I take a deep breath, nodding to Harvey and Dickie as they head out. "Catch you guys later."

"Don't bail on us tomorrow night!" Harvey calls out, but I just as I follow Gibson into the small office off to the side.

Gibson leans against his desk, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on me. He's been my coach for over three years, and while I respect the hell out of him, I was one to mess around and test my limits with people. Coach Gibson is originally from the South. From Houston, Texas specifically. So when he talks with his heavy southern accent you're kind of forced to listen attentively to get a single word of what he's saying... or cursing.