fight or flight.

chapter one .

 The blades of skates were sharp, to pierce the ice and be able to glide around seamlessly, they had to be. It made sense for such a rough and ragged sport to have another danger added to it, such as the blades of skates. Hockey was ruthless, unforgiving, and exceptional. And Wolfe Calaway was notably just as sharp as his blades when it came to the rugged sport. He was ruthless and cunning, and overall unforgiving, just what the sport entailed. He found it to be a phenomenal anger release, though he still seemed like an overall angry person. He'd been told before, he had a resting bitch face, and he didn't disagree. But if you caught him on the ice, or right after a match, there was – more often than not – a proud smirk, or a triumphant grin across his features. This, much to his pleasure ( and disdain ) is what made him a heartthrob on the Michigan campus. It wasn't like he was complaining, but sometimes he could say it gave him a throbbing headache. While he had his fair share of adoring fans, and a pick of beautiful women, it was all very stagnant. Day in and day out, he felt as though nothing ever really changed. None of them ever really kept his attention long enough to get even remotely close to having a relationship. Not that he was complaining, hockey was pretty much his date every night and day, so he truthfully didn't have that much time anyways.

A rough shove brought him back to his reality, and he slid back slightly, catching his balance quickly. He bit down on the mouth guard roughly, something resembling an animalistic growl tearing from his throat. His eyes cut around him quickly, assessing the situation. Of course it was only practice, so it was all being taken lightly, he still wanted to win. He spun the stick in his hand, locking in on the puck. Wolfe pushed off, moving his legs quickly, pumping his arms, he glided across the ice. A glance at the clock told him they only had a few minutes left of time on the ice. And he was going to make use of it. Making use of it meant a lot of pushing, grunting, slapping, and scoring. At his final attempt, he kept the puck in front of him, moving his stick back and forth, over and across, methodically. His eyes narrowed in on the defense before him, the goalie was right behind them, poised and ready. The same devilish smirk fell onto his face, before he picked up his speed, stopping only at the last second to change direction and lunge past the defense. He didn't have to look back to see the scrambling to turn and stop him. A rough from one side, and a stick coming into view let Wolfe know a forward had come to play defense. The slapping and cracking of the sticks echoed through the empty arena as the two fought for control. Frustrated, Wolfe gave a hard shove.

Freedom. The path was open, and he reeled his stick back and delivered a powerful slap to the rubber puck. He watched, as it soared forward, the goalie's hands narrowly missing its target. The net made a familiar sound, and the puck clattered against the ice. Just then, the buzzer rang out, followed by loud silence and heavy panting. Wolfe tore off the face mask with a grunt, the familiar triumphant smirk returning. The goalie, Sage Reeds, followed suit, though he had more of a sour look on his face. "Come on, Cally!" He complained, "It's practice and you can't even take it easy on us!" He protested, arms waving. A couple other players laughed in agreement, while others just shook their heads. Truthfully, Reeds was an amazing goalie and he frequently did stop Wolfe's shots. Wolfe laughed, shaking his head, skating around aimlessly. Wolfe was a center forward, along with two other players. Marcus Rhodes and Steele Gentry. They were responsible for all the goals, and a little bit of defense here and there. Before he could respond, a rough clap slapped against his back, and Wolfe could admit he lost his breath a little bit. He gave a weak glance to one of the defense players, Logan Foxe. "Come on, Reeds, you gotta be ready when you go pro and face off against Cally!" He laughed, loud and boisterous. "Yeah, if anything, he's helping you out!" Joshua Hogan, the other defensemen, added.

Wolfe shook his head with a laugh, "Yeah, I'm helping you out Reeds! Can't help it if I'm good." He smirked playfully, giving a light shrug. Sage gave a dramatic roll of his eyes added with a groan for the drama. "One of these days, I'm gonna tell your mom you're a bully." He grumbled lightly, which earned a laugh from the team. It was Steele who spoke up first, "Does anyone want to go for drinks?" He asked, a familiar glint of trouble in his eyes. It was pretty much ritual at this point, after good practices you go to Flower's and get drinks. Flower's was a local pub owned by a former hockey player, so it was always decked out with hockey fan stuff, and they usually got a free first round. After all were in agreement to go, the team spread out to grab the equipment used at practice to put away. Though chatter was still loud, plans for the weekend, hookups, parties, everything under the sun was being talked about, truthfully. It was dull chatter though, so Wolfe used the time to himself, trying to plan out the months ahead. Their season was starting in about two months, so they were about to have to buckle down and really start training. It was nice, the season, all he really had to think about was hockey and homework. He skated along the edge of the rink, making sure they'd gotten everything as he pondered the coming days.