Edge Of The Ice (On Going And Own Book)

Cold Begginging .6

As Alex stripped off his pads, the locker room buzzed around him, the warmth enveloping him like a blanket. It was a comforting noise—his teammates laughing, arguing over who’d be the next to try out for a school event, sharing plans for the weekend—but today, it all felt distant. He wanted to join in, to lose himself in their camaraderie, but the pressure weighed too heavily.

“Hey, Rivera!” Logan called from across the room, his voice cutting through Alex’s haze. “Are you going to that party at Chris’s on Friday? You know, the one where everyone’s going to watch the game?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied, not even looking up as he shoved his equipment into his bag. “I might skip it.”

“What? Why?” Logan looked genuinely surprised, a playful frown creasing his forehead. “You never miss parties, especially ones with pizza and the game. Are you sick or something?”

Alex shrugged, forcing a grin. “Just tired. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“Yeah, we all do. But you can’t let hockey consume your entire life. You need to have fun too,” Logan insisted, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

“I’ll be fine,” Alex said, a little sharper than he intended. “I just need to focus on Cedar Heights.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t push any further. “Alright, just remember we’ll all be there, and it won’t be the same without you.” He turned back to his conversation with the other guys, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts again.

The locker room felt too quiet, too empty as the others filtered out, one by one, until he was one of the last left. He could hear the sound of the ice being scraped and cleaned, the dull rumble of the zamboni somewhere in the distance. Each noise echoed his mounting anxiety.

He took a deep breath and finally got up, heading for the showers. As the hot water poured over him, Alex let it wash away the chill of the ice rink, the sting of frustration, and the constant pressure that clung to him like an unwelcome shadow. But as he stood there, his thoughts drifted back to Cass again—the way they’d watched him, their words lingering in his mind. You’re good enough.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, frustrated at how much their opinion had affected him. Why do I care what they think?

The truth was, he didn’t want to care. Cass had always been the thorn in his side—the talented figure skater who seemed to glide through life, effortlessly perfect in everything they did. Alex envied their skill, their confidence, their ability to command attention without even trying. And here he was, chasing a dream, desperately trying to carve out his space in the world.

After what felt like an eternity, Alex stepped out of the shower, letting the steam clear his head. He dressed quickly, pulling on his hoodie and jeans before heading back to the locker room. It was emptier now, just the echoes of voices fading in the distance.

He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and headed toward the exit. But just as he reached the door, he paused. In the reflection of the glass, he caught sight of Logan and a few other teammates still gathered near the benches, talking animatedly.

“Are you going to tell him?” Alex overheard Logan ask, and his heart sank. The way his teammates spoke about him, like he wasn’t even there—it felt like they were planning something behind his back.

“Yeah, he’s been off lately,” another voice chimed in. “He needs to lighten up. Maybe if he knew he’s got a shot, he’d loosen up a bit.”

Alex’s chest tightened. They were talking about him—his potential, his worries, all of it. It felt like the walls were closing in, their words pressing down on him like the weight of expectations he could never escape.

He hesitated at the door, caught between wanting to bolt and wanting to know what they were discussing. Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned back to the group, forcing a smile.

“Hey, what’s up?”

The conversation halted, and the laughter faded. Logan shot him a sheepish grin. “Just planning for the game. You know, how we’re going to demolish Cedar Heights.”

“Of course,” Alex said, leaning against the doorframe, trying to appear relaxed. “Any good ideas?”

Logan glanced around the group, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, we were thinking we’d need everyone’s best game face. And maybe a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?” Alex asked, his curiosity piqued despite the nagging worry in his gut.

“Nothing major,” Logan replied, a grin spreading across his face. “Just a little pep rally before the game. We thought it’d be fun. You could use a little lift.”

Alex’s heart sank. The last thing he wanted was a pep rally. “You guys don’t have to do that for me,” he said quickly, his voice tight. “I’m fine.”

“We’re not doing it just for you. We’re doing it for the whole team,” Logan countered, crossing his arms. “But you’re a big part of that. You can’t keep pushing us away.”

“Yeah, man. We’re a team,” one of the other guys chimed in. “We need everyone in the right headspace, especially with Cedar Heights coming up.”

Alex felt the walls of his carefully constructed defenses beginning to crack. “I get it, but I—”

“No buts,” Logan interjected, his tone firm but friendly. “You’re one of us, and we want you there. We all need to have fun too. It’s not just about winning.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to enjoy the ride,” the other guy added, giving him a supportive nod.

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. All he could think of was Cass, the way they’d made him feel earlier. Had they really been right? Maybe he was running from something, running from the pressure to perform.

With a deep breath, Alex decided to let the walls come down, if only a little. “Okay, I’ll think about it,” he said finally, hoping he didn’t sound as uncertain as he felt.

Logan’s grin returned, brighter than ever. “That’s all we ask, man. Just think about it. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

As the laughter resumed and the chatter picked up again, Alex felt a flicker of warmth in his chest, a reminder that maybe he wasn’t alone in this after all. But even with that small comfort, a part of him still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Cass would always be there—reminding him of every challenge that lay ahead.