Full Strength

Fifty Nine-Logan🏒

        Graham was casually leaning against the glass. "Harder."

        I grunted, slamming another puck into the net. He shook his head, clearly disappointed.

        "How are you not bored out of your mind?" I demanded to know.

        "Because it's fun watching you get better with each shot," he replied, lazily skating behind me. "This morning you could barely make it from the other end."

        "You're really not helping my confidence." 

        Graham laughed, like the lousy friend that he was. "Seriously, dude. You almost have it. Your form is good, your strength is there. You're just having trouble getting your head back into it."

         I exhaled, asking, "Could we maybe try something else for a bit? Maybe a little one on one?"

         He shrugged, grabbing his stick and skating down to the goal to get a puck. "Easy or natural?"

         "You're naturally easy to play against," I said with a grin.

         "For that you're getting super hardcore playoffs mode," Graham said, rolling his eyes and passing me the puck. I took off, with him right in front of me. He hadn't lied; he wasn't going easy on me. Which of course meant that I didn't even make the blue line before he stole the puck and shot into his empty net.

         "Pathetic," he called over his shoulder. "That's not the Logan I know!"

         "Relax, I haven't seen that Logan either," I grumbled to myself. Taking another puck, I tried again. This time I at least made the zone, but I stupidly tried to play the puck off the end boards to myself. Graham's signature move was forcing people into that move, then stealing the puck. 

         "At least use that tiny brain of yours," Graham teased. "You know better than that to try a self-pass off the end with me."

        I did, which was why I felt really sucky at the moment. Even if I couldn't skate all that well, I knew the game. I knew Graham, certainly. This was just a wonderful opportunity to embarrass myself. Down and back we went, over and over again. It only took me a few tries where Graham was no longer stealing it from me. Unfortunately, he was still blocking all my shots, or worse, playing so well that I couldn't even get a shot off. 

        "Okay, get some water. You look like you're gonna puke," he said, still skating around and not even breathing hard.

        "I might," I gasped out, leaning into the bench to grab my bottle. My legs felt like they were on fire. Not to mention my right shoulder was burning with the memories of dozens of shots.

         Graham, clearly bored and full of energy, decided to sprint around the edge of the ice, speeding by with rosy cheeks and pumping legs. I couldn't help but be jealous; I was once that fast. Now, if I was lucky, I could maybe beat Harry in a race. If he was here. Then again, he might win, and that would just be embarrassing. 

         "Okay, break's over," he said much too cheerfully. "Back to trying to defeat me."

         "You suck, Graham," I panted, slowly getting to my feet. 

         He blew me an air kiss. "Correct. Spin moves, now."

         Graham and I had set up this extra practice, since now that I was on the roster for the playoffs, and not injured reserve, I had to at least be a little prepared. Graham, being captain and my best friend,  had offered to help. Of course, that also meant he had permission to be brutal and annoying, but I needed to get better no matter the cost.