after the death of her mother, leighton's father sends her to a boarding school halfway across the world to be taught a lesson. she knows no one and no one knows her.
but the cherry on top is who her roommate is.
#2 in ptsdawareness
#2 in anxiety
#...
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"Oi! I fucked a girl last night!" Eli exclaims.
"I don't fucking buy that shit. You're gonna be a virgin for the rest of your fucking life!" Aiden exclaims back.
"Hey!" Eli says, offended.
The locker room is buzzing with energy.
My hands automatically go through the motions—taping my stick, checking my laces, tightening my pads.
Luca's voice cuts through the chatter. "Kai, you good?"
I nod, forcing a half-smile. "Always."
"Let's go out there and make 'em regret showing up tonight," Eli says, smacking his fist into his palm with a sharp crack.
"Ow," He winces.
There's a chorus of agreement, the sound filling the small space.
I pull my helmet down, the familiar weight settling over me, and stand up.
The guys fall into line behind me as we file out, the smell of the ice hitting me first—the sharp, cold tang that clears my head like nothing else.
My focus narrows to the surface in front of me, the lines, the boards, the opposing team already skating lazy circles on the other end.
They look scared as fuck.
Weak ass mother fuckers.
The first whistle blows, and I take my place at center ice, leaning in for the faceoff.
I lock eyes with the other center—a stocky guy with a snarl on his face.
He's trying to psych me out, but it's not going to work.
I invented the psyching out, duh
The ref drops the puck, and I snap it back to Eli,. our winger, and we're off.
The game is a blur of motion and muscle.
Every time I hit the ice, I'm moving on instinct—pushing off my skates, slamming into bodies, feeling the thud of the puck against my stick.
I'm playing as hard as I can. Playing like i want to make my dad proud.
That'll never happen.
We're deep in the third period, the score tied at 2-2, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.
I'm back on the ice, grinding along the boards for the puck.
I manage to shove it free, sending it up to Eli. He charges down the wing, and I push off to follow, cutting through the middle, eyes locked on the puck as he sends it back to me with a perfect pass.
I'm winding up for the shot when—
Crack.
A blinding pain explodes in my skull, sharp and fast, and everything goes dark.
