Between You and Me (A college hockey romance)

Nineteen

Greyson

"What the fuck are you doing?" I shout at Luke. He squares up to me, taking his helmet off. I answer by pushing him by the shoulders. "I'm not fucking fighting you, Junior. Just watch it or I might have to". 

"Enough, take a skate" Coach Jared shouts at us and we separate. 

I've been on edge all day. First practice this morning went to hell and ended up with the whole first line doing suicide drills because of me. The second practice of the day has started in the same way the other one ended. The closer we get to the beginning of the season, the more 'aggy' I get. It happens every year and I don't know how to turn it off. I've been mellow for weeks, but the more things begin to matter, the more pissed off I get. 

And no, this has nothing to do with the night I spent with Lennon. 

I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. I glance over at Luke who's surrounded by Case and Lars trying to calm him down. Justin skates over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. 

"What's wrong with you?" he asks. "Why are you picking fights with the kids?". 

"He was being a bitch!" I tell him, pushing his arm away from my shoulder. 

"And this has nothing to do with where you went last night?". 

I point a gloved hand his way. "Shut the fuck up". 

Justin raises his hands defensively.  

Coach Jared blows his whistle to signal that he's let us calm down long enough, and everyone get's back into position. I try to focus through the practice but my heads all over the place. It goes by in a blur of drills and punishments but I manage to avoid fighting for the rest of the hour. 

I had a moment of weekness yesterday and despite however much I wanted it or how much I'd do it again, I should have never slept with Lennon. She doesn't deserve the non-committal man that I am. 

I was being selfish. I need it to be just that. However much that might kill me. 

The practice wraps up and everyone heads to the locker room. I avoid conversation and take my gear of, heading for the shower. I'm done before anyone else has gotten their gear off and get out of there. 

"Carter". Coach Jareds rough voice startles me as I round the corner in the hallway outside of the locker rooms. "There's someone here to see you". 

"Who?" I ask him but he doesn't give anything away. He only grunts in response, pointing in the direction of his office.  

Usually when Coach Jared calls someone into his office, it's to give them bad news. If you're getting cut from your line or benched or have been performing below par, he'll call you into his office, close the door and yell at you for ten minutes. 

On the off chance you're getting good news, it's typically offers from teams that want you to stop your university degree and go straight to the league. 

None of that applies to me. 

I follow Coach Jared through the staff doors at the end of the hallway. All our coaches and the women's teams coaches, have their offices in this part of the building. Coach has the biggest, naturally. 

I've been in this part before. Especially during my freshman year. His office is modern and clean but he has filled it with pictures and trophies from his career and it ruins the vibe. But maybe that's the point. 

Coach Jared opens the door and gestures for me to walk in before him. 

My heart drops all the way into my stomach when I see Christopher Levine standing by the trophy cabinet, dressed in a crisp, gray suit and a stern expression. 

I hear the door close behind me and when I look, Coach Jared has left us alone in here. Great. 

I'm so fucking done. My career is over. Never in my wildest dreams did I think this was the man who 'wanted to meet me'. 

Wait, does Lennon know he's here? 

"Player of the year, MVP of the last three Frozen  Fours, and 1st pick of your draft" Mr. Levine says while walking over to Coach Jared's desk. "You've got a bright future ahead of you, son". 

There's no question Lennon is this mans daugther. She has the same green eyes and facial features, but where her hair is a darker shade, her dads is blonde. 

I swallow hard. I'm usually pretty good with the professional meetings but that's when I've been briefed and didn't spend hours  making their daugther come the night before. 

"Thank you, sir" I managed to choke out before the silence lets on for too long. I need to get my head clear.

"I'm going to be straight up with you, Greyson". He gestures for me to sit down in one of the chairs, and I do, while he sits down on top of Coach Jared's desk. My pulse speeds up at the tone in his voice. 

"I want to represent you". 

What? This is about hockey?

"I- uh- what?". I can't actually believe what I'm hearing. Everyone who cares about hockey knows that when the great Christopher Levine retired, he went into the world of agency. So far he's only represented NHL-players. I'm assuming that's about to change given the new rule that you can both play college hockey and sign with an agent. 

"I want to represent you" he repeats. "My agency wants to represent the best, and you're that. You're about to graduate next spring and the transition from college hockey to being a part of a NHL team is rough. We want to be apart of your team for that".  

He speaks in a confident yet soft tone. Like a father giving his son a pitch. He's good, I'll give him that. Who wouldn't want to be involved after hearing that? 

I clear my throat. "When will you need your answer?". 

There's a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he expected me to be on my knees in thanks, but he masks it so well I might have imagined it. 

"We will draft up an offer and let you go over it, and decide with the people close to you. It's a big decision and we don't want you to rush". 

'The people close to me'. Yeah. If only I had those. 

"Right. Thank you" I tell him. 

"I watched your second practice today" Mr. Levine says, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Wait, really? I hadn't spotted him which is weird considering there's no stands around the practice rink for him to hide in. 

He goes on before I get the chance to say anything. "If you're going to represent Levine you need to clean up your act. Hot-headed players are fan favourites in the NHL, but they are established players. Not up-and-coming rookies. And they definetly don't fight their own team". 

I know I should be embarrassed at being lectured by someone with his reputation. But I'm sure of myself. I know I'm hot-headed when I play, but I also know I've got the play and talent to back it up. There's no doubt in my mind about that. 

"I can do that" I say, a little begrudingly. If he notices, he doesn't make a show of it. 

"Great. If you accept our offer we'll go over ways to do that" he stands up and for the first time he grins. "I look forward to hearing from you, Greyson". 

"Thank you for the opportunity" I say, standing up to shake his hand. 

I should be happy but all I can think about is how fucked I am if he figures out about me and Lennon.