Power Play

Chapter Two - Clashing Skates

After stepping off the ice, my legs shaking with exhaustion, I dreaded what came next. The locker room. I'd managed to keep my nerves in check on the rink, but this part? This felt harder. I hesitated at the door, taking a deep breath before forcing it open.

The locker room was filled with the clatter of skates hitting the floor, the sound of gear being peeled off, and the faint smell of sweat lingering in the air. Most of the team was already talking and chuckling, caught up in their own world. I attempted to make myself invisible as I walked over to the farthest corner of the room, where I could get changed quickly and avoid any unnecessary interactions. No such luck.

"Hey, new girl, you lost or something?" one of the guys called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I made a face at him and chose to shake it off. I sank onto the bench, feeling the heaviness of the day hit me all at once. My feet were sore from the pressure of the skates, and I fiddled with the laces. My fingers shook slightly, partly from exhaustion, partly from nerves. The sweat-soaked gear clung to me, causing every movement to be frustrating. Maverick walked over and had a snide grin on his face.

"Yeah, this isn't ballet class. Did you take a wrong turn somewhere?" He mocked, laughing. I forced myself to not engage with him as I tore off my skates, but I couldn't tell if they were observing me or just moving on with their post-practice routines. My face flushed as I peeled off my shin guards and brushed the sweat from my brow, forcing myself to stay calm. They weren't saying anything, but I felt like an outsider—the only girl in a room full of dudes who likely thought I didn't belong there. The heat in my face was growing, but I refused to give them the pleasure of a reaction. I wasn't going to run out of here like a child.

One of the other guys whistled, leaning back against his locker with a smirk. "Better get used to being the slowest one out there, sweetheart."

"Maybe figure skating's more your speed," another one added, and they all snickered. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself as I shoved my gear into my already full backpack. My heart pounded in my chest, not from anxiety but from the frustration of it all. I wanted to snap back, and tell them exactly where they could shove their comments. But I couldn't risk letting my temper get the best of me—Maverick was there too, and I didn't need to make myself more of a target.

"You got something to say, princess?" one of the guys taunted as I grabbed my hoodie. I shoved him off me, he threw his hands up, surrendering sarcastically. The teasing had gotten more obnoxious, but I bit my tongue, just trying to get out of there.

That's when Maverick's voice sliced through my ears. "You guys are wasting your breath." He didn't even look up from where he was standing with his friends. "She's dead meat by next practice."

The guys laughed again, their voices louder now, like they had Maverick's approval to keep going. I finally spoke up, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Maybe I'll surprise you," I muttered, standing up with my bag slung over my shoulder. "You don't fucking know me."

Maverick didn't respond, but I saw the way he glanced at me, sizing me up, as if deciding whether I was worth his time.

One of the guys snickered, "Ooohhh, she's a firecracker."

I ignored them, pushing past to head toward the exit. My cheeks burned, and every inch of me wanted to snap back, but I held it in. They could laugh all they wanted. They didn't know how hard I'd fight to prove them wrong.

Once I stepped out of the locker room, the cool air outside felt like a relief, cooling the heat in my face. I spotted my mom's car waiting for me in the parking lot, the headlights casting long shadows across the asphalt. Just as I started speed-walking toward the car, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Presley, one of the guys from tryouts, jogging over. Unlike the others, Presley hadn't joined in the mockery. In fact, he hadn't said anything, but he'd been keeping an eye on the drills and observing everyone with quiet assertiveness.