[COMPLETED] During her junior year at her new school, Jordan is determined to join the boys' hockey team despite having no experience. But Maverick, the team's star player and captain, is less than thrilled about a girl invading his turf. Jordan and...
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The weekend unfolded like a breath of fresh air, filling me with excitement and the thrill of practice. Saturday morning, sunlight streamed through my bedroom window, coaxing me awake with its warmth. After a quick breakfast, I took the city bus to the local community center, signed in and walked to the locker rooms. I laced up my skates, and put on my helmet, my heart racing with expectation. The community center was filled with energy, and I felt invigorated stepping onto the ice.
As I glided across the smooth surface, I focused on the goal ahead. Today was all about precision. I aimed for the center of the net, the bullseye of my dreams. The sound of the puck slicing through the air and hitting the back of the net filled me with a sense of accomplishment. Watching it lay there on the skirt of the net sent a wave of satisfaction through me. Each goal felt like a victory, raising my confidence with every successful shot. A few times, the puck went wide, and I sighed out of frustration. I practiced relentlessly, laughter echoing off the walls as I challenged myself to improve, now aiming to hit the middle of the metal frame, mentally cheering with each successful attempt. Of course, I had to vaguely and kindly boast in the group chat about it, until I could go into full detail the next time we met.
By Sunday, I was feeling light and cheery. I spent the day working on different drills, pushing myself to be the best player I could be. The thrill of improvement fueled my passion, and I basked in the sense of community among the other skaters. I formed bonds with my fellow players, sharing tips and laughter as we all encouraged one another.
When Monday rolled around, I felt ready to tackle the week ahead. As I walked through the familiar halls, I greeted my friends with smiles, the energy of the weekend still flowing through my veins. People who I didn't even recognize congratulated me for scoring the winning goal on Friday. Classes flew by, each subject a reminder of my determination to balance my studies and my love for hockey. During lunch, I animatedly recounted my training stories to my teammates, my eyes twinkling with spirit. The conversations flowed effortlessly, loaded with jokes and plans for the upcoming week, including more practice sessions. I felt free. The final bell rang, and school was out for the day. For some people, anyway. I hurried to the locker room, the usual whirr of excitement swirling inside me. As I pushed the door open, expecting the usual sound of chatter and equipment clinking, I was met with silence. My eyes widened when I saw Maverick—alone, and, well, shirtless. He stood near his locker, his broad shoulders and defined muscles catching the light in a way I couldn't ignore, even if I wanted to. My first instinct was to turn away, but instead, I gathered my nerves and walked toward my locker, trying to play it cool.
"Hi," I said, attempting at least a polite greeting. The introduction felt awkward, but I didn't want things to stay so tense between us. I was hoping maybe today, just today, we could coexist. He threw his gear on. Maverick didn't even glance at me. His jaw was clenched, and his body language screamed that he was angry about something. His silence stretched for a moment too long, making the room feel smaller and more suffocating.
