Twisted Turnaround

Chapter 10

ANDREA

I'm back at practice a few days later, and the amount of times I'm down at the athletic center, you'd think I was an athlete. But no, I'm a journalist chasing after a story. Did the story give me a concussion as soon as I started to work on it? Yes, but here I was again. This would be my biggest story yet, and I knew a few people who would be reading it, so I was going to go through with it.

Even if the experience isn't all that exciting.

"Lauren and I have talked to your coach." I start when we meet at the bleachers with the entire time. I promise to keep my eyes away from Miles because the other day didn't go too well. It started off the same, Miles being annoying, but then he had to say something to make me remember why I was angry with him in the first place. Honestly, him sleeping with me and ghosting me straight after was something I could overlook, seeing as though we didn't have feelings for each other. But what I couldn't get over was the fact that he keeps mentioning the paper.

The part of the night where he used me.

That's not what I could get over. I could never get over the fact that he constantly mentioned the paper before, then I remember it. He had wanted to be on the paper, wanted to get noticed, and I guess everyone does. Instead of asking me, he just slept with me because it would get the job done faster. So I guess I couldn't forgive him for sleeping with me then.

"Coach wants us to really get a feel of the sport," I start. "I've been writing about hockey all my years here at UMN, and I would say that I know the sport very well. But coach Karl pointed out that if Lauren and I were to play with you guys, we would really be able to highlight key points in our paper."

"So," Lauren continues. "We will be learning to play with you guys."

"I'm not really interested in getting beat up by ten two hindered pound men, so please take it easy on us," I add with a firm nod. I had come prepared for this game with my hair up in a bun as opposed to my usual hair style. I also came wearing my thickest sweatshirt and leggings under my jeans. I was not going to go home injured again, so I had to come ready.

There's silence all over the ice, men looking at each other before a hand goes up.

I'm already rolling my eyes before I even look at the face properly. "Of course, Miles, what is it?"

"So," he says slowly, sending a look at his other teammates across the ice. "You want to play with us? On ice?"

"No, let's take this ice hockey game out to the field; why don't we?" I shoot back with a straight face. "No, of course. We would like to play with you guys, here on the ice."

Miles only continues to stare at me, unconvinced of what I just said. I hold his gaze, not standing back from what we came here for today. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I cleared it with your coach," I say, looking back to find Coach Karl looking at us in a way I cannot decipher. "I don't need your permission, nor do I need to ask." I start to move, but Miles wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me. I look up at him, convinced that he wants to lose that said hand, and he drops it. Before I can leave though, he says, "Come on, Andrea. We are grown men—"

"I don't think you even started to grow a mustache yet."

Miles gives me a dirty look at my comment before choosing to continue. "And the both of you are barely 5'5, I'm not sure if this is going to work."

"I'm 5"6, thank you very much," I answer with a pep in my voice. "5"7 in these skates, so I think I'm good."

"I'm 6"2," Miles answers as well. "And 6"3 in these skates, not to mention twice as big as you."