Collide

s i x

Malachi

The roar of the crowd is deafening as I step onto the ice, the sound vibrating through my chest and fueling the adrenaline that's been building up all day. The rink is a sea of scarlet and gray, Ohio State's colors splashed across banners, signs, and the jerseys of every fan in the stands. It's game night, and the energy is electric. This isn't just any game—this is a grudge match against University of Minnesota, and the rivalry runs deep.

I take a deep breath, the cold air biting at my lungs as I look across the ice at the opposing team. They're decked out in their maroon and gold, skating in formation, and looking just as amped as we are. My eyes lock on one player in particular—Logan Hart, their star forward and the bane of my existence. We've had our fair share of clashes over the years, and tonight is no different. He's cocky, aggressive, and a pain in the ass on and off the ice. But more than that, he's good.

Too good.

I narrow my eyes as Logan skates by, smirking like he owns the place. Not tonight, Hart. Not in our house.

Dad's voice cuts through the noise, and I turn to see him giving us a final pep talk. "This is our game. Stay sharp, stay focused, and keep your heads in the game. Play smart, play hard, and let's show them what Ohio State hockey is all about!"

We nod in unison, the seriousness of his tone grounding us. I glance around at my teammates—Theo, Leo, Nico, and the rest of the guys—all of them wearing the same determined expressions. We're ready for this. The anticipation is almost palpable, each of us itching to get the game started and prove ourselves on the ice.

As the whistle blows, signaling the start of the game, I skate to my position at center ice, facing off against Logan. The tension between us is so thick you could cut it with a knife. We glare at each other, and the seconds before the puck drops feel like an eternity.

The ref skates over, puck in hand, and the crowd's noise fades into a dull hum, all of my focus zeroing in on that small piece of rubber. The ref drops the puck, and in an instant, I'm on it, battling with Logan for control. The clash is fierce, our sticks tangling as we fight for possession. He's strong, but I'm faster. With a quick flick of my wrist, I send the puck back to Leo, who's already moving up the ice.

The game is fast and aggressive from the get-go. Minnesota is known for their physical play, and they're not holding back tonight. Every pass, every shot, every hit is calculated and forceful. But we're matching them step for step, our defense holding strong as we push the puck into their zone.

I skate hard, weaving through their players with precision, my stick handling the puck with ease. I pass to Leo, who takes a shot on goal, but their goalie is quick, deflecting it with his blocker. The puck rebounds off the boards, and I'm on it, passing it back to Theo at the point.

Theo winds up for a slap shot, and the sound of his stick connecting with the puck echoes through the rink. It's a laser, heading straight for the top corner, but their goalie makes a miraculous save, snagging it out of the air with his glove. The crowd groans in unison, but I can see the determination in Theo's eyes. He's not giving up that easily.