The Assistant Coach (BOOK 1: OMEN KING SERIES)

|𝟸𝟸|

Kohl Warren

I glare at the smug guy standing in front of me, the same guy whose nose I made bleed with a well-placed punch earlier. He's wearing a cocky grin under his helmet, and I can feel my anger bubbling up inside me.

"Let's make a little deal here, if we win, you apologize for my nose—" There's no way I'm going to apologize for that. "—And if you win, I'll apologize directly to your coach," he replies, his smirk widening.

"Deal," I say, maybe a little too quickly, but I can't help myself. This guy's arrogance is getting under my skin.

As soon as the whistle blows, I get the puck and start skating down the ice, my eyes locked on Ant as I pass him the puck, he zooms past me with lightning speed. I push myself to catch up, feeling the icy air whipping against my face as I move.

I see an Iverton player trying to block Ant's path, so I take matters into my own hands and give the guy a hard shove, sending him crashing into the barricade.

The crowd roars with excitement as I skate past, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. And wouldn't you know it, it's the same fucker who was talking about Leia earlier.

"Shit, seriously? What the hell are you doing?" he pushes me away, a smirk spreading across my face.

"Less talking, bastard. We've already got one point on you," I taunt, enjoying the frustration on his face.

"No, you don't-" he starts to argue, but the buzzer cuts him off as the crowd erupts in cheers.

Ant, true to form, makes a goal. I knew he would, because Ant is just as fired up as I am. He may keep his cool off the ice, but on it, he's a different animal.

I skate back to our side of the rink, watching as the guy skates past me and takes a shot at our goal. He completely misses.

"Nice one, Matt!" Tim calls out, slapping Matt on the back. Owen nods in approval, and Matt just grins, clearly enjoying the moment.

Iverton is just phoning it against us, no effort at all. That guy tried to score a goal from way out there instead of trying to get closer. And just listen to those laughs from their team, they're not even taking us seriously. They're probably just waiting for us to tire out and lose our confidence.

"My foot tripped" I mutter as I casually shove another player into the barricade with a laughing whistle sound coming out of my mouth.

The game drags on, with the score now 3-0 in our favor. I can see Tim and Ant getting more and more aggressive with the opposing team, despite my warnings not to drain ourselves.

The whistle blows, and Iverton gets the puck, but I couldn't care less. I casually stick out my hockey stick in front of another player, sending him crashing hard onto the ice.

"Watch where you're going, pal. This stick ain't cheap," I quip, offering a hand to help him up. But before he can take it, I skate away, a smirk playing on my lips.

As the buzzer beeps, we all skate over to the penalty box where Coach Johnson stands, nodding proudly like a father. Leia shoots a glare at the scoreboard, her jaw clenched.

I grab my water bottle, taking a long swig of the ice-cold liquid. I toss my helmet off, spraying the cold water over my head before slapping my helmet back on. The arena is alive with the sound of cheers from the crowd echoing around us.

I take a deep breath.

"They are playing you guys like puppets," Leia remarks, causing the others to exchange confused glances. But I, on the other hand, had already figured that out.

"They riled you all up earlier, so you'll lose your cool. And now they're probably aiming to wear you out until the newbies switch in for you guys," Leia explains, sizing up the Iverton players with a smug grin on her face.

"Coach Johnson, please cover your ears," Leia requests, and he lets out a resigned sigh before complying. "That girl over there–" Leia gestures towards a player from the opposing team who is engaged in a kiss with a girl in the aisles, "–one of you needs to charm her during the game."

We all gape at Leia in shock. She's never been one to play dirty, I'm lying. I knew she played dirty when she hurled a puck at Ronald's head just because he scored a goal on her the other day.

"I'll do it," I say with a nonchalant shrug.

For a split second, I detect a hint of emotion on Leia's face before it disappears completely. Am I imagining things?

"But they're going to come at you harder than you softies did, so watch out," she warns before the buzzer signals the start of the game. We all nod and head out onto the ice, except for me. Leia grabs my arm, her expression filled with concern.

"I see what you're up to. Stop being so aggressive with the other players," she pleads before letting go of my arm.

"No promises," I reply with a wink.

I take my position on the ice, ready for the puck to drop. As soon as the whistle blows, they get the puck, I skate over to the boards where the girl is watching from the stands. I adjust my helmet and flash her a smile, but she just rolls her eyes.

Brown hair. Brown hair. Skinny. Pale Skin. Not my type. Since when did I have a type?

"You're quite the looker, Babydoll. What's your name?" I ask, trying to charm her.

She scoffs and holds up her hand, revealing a small engagement ring. "I have a fiancé, thank you very much," she retorts.

I chuckle at her response, but then my mouth gets ahead of my brain. "What poor soul put a ring on you?" I mutter, causing her to gasp. I realize my mistake and mentally curse myself – for saying it out loud.

"What the hell did you just say to my girl? I hear the guy's

voice behind me, and I turn around to see the same guy I punched earlier, looking at me with a mix of anger and surprise.

"Sorry, I'm bad at handling rejection" I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I put on a fake pout, but my smirk gives away my true feelings.

"You think you can just walk away after that?" he growls, grabbing my jersey, but I raise my hands in a mock surrender, knowing the referee is already on his way over.

As the referee blows the whistle and separates us, I catch Leia's eye and see the biggest villainess grin on her face. I flash her a quick thumbs up before skating back to my side of the rink, ready to play real hockey.

"Time to show them what we're made of," I hear one of the players whisper, and I shake my head in amusement.

The buzzer beeps and the cheers are deafening as Iverton takes the puck and starts picking up their pace. They zip by me and Ant, effortlessly passing the puck around before scoring a goal.

"If you can't handle rejection, I wonder how you'll handle losing," the guy taunts as he skates around me with a smug smile.

I let out a low whistle. "No need to get your panties in a twist."

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