One of the things that Charlotte Rose Johnston loved the most, besides lacrosse and hockey, was her privacy.
It was time for her new adventure, and being that she received her first Division 1 athletic offer to play men's ice hockey at the Universit...
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Even after a brief comeback attempt, the Michigan Wolverines came up short, falling to Minnesota State, 5 goals to 3.
Charlotte felt the weight of the loss on her shoulders. If she had performed better, and if those three goals would not have happened, they would have emerged victorious in front of the home crowd. She snapped her stick over her leg and tossed it down the hallway outside of their locker room.
This game would be remembered by her for life. Not for any good moments, but for the moments that taught her that she isn't enough yet and that she is far from perfect. Even after a World Junior Championship Under-17 gold metal, she was not good enough.
Tears pricked her eyes and she harshly cleared her throat before walking into the locker room balanced on her skate-guards.
The locker room was stuffy and filled with the sounds of unzipping gear and velcro. Jacob Truscott sat in his locker stall with his head in his hands, eyes trained on the ground. The sound of the door opening made him look up and he sprung into action, crossing the room quickly. Face to face with Charlotte he looked down at her. She met his gaze, hardening her look.
His face was red with anger, "What the hell were you thinking out there?" he yelled, gesturing to the direction of the ice. Charlotte swallowed hard and shook her head.
"That was the most pathetic shit I have ever seen in my entire life. You do that again and I will personally ask for you to be kicked off the damn team," he continued, his words digging deeper into the fresh wound that had been opened during the game. She felt herself being drained.
Jacob took another step forward so that he was parallel with her ear, and he leaned down, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Congrats," he started, "-you just made yourself and our damn team the laughing stock of the league."
Charlotte blinked hard and Jacob was off, walking away towards the showers.
Taking a seat in her stall Charlotte couldn't help but look around after she popped her helmet off and threw it at the ground. It bounced off in an awkward direction but Charlotte could not care less.
From her right, Rutger McGroarty shot her a look and if it could kill, she would have been laying dead right there. The sudden intensity made a wave of nausea kick her stomach again. While he did not even utter a word, his gaze was enough to speak volumes. She had majorly let him down.
On her left, Luca Fantilli slowly undressed from his gear, pulling his compression shirt off to free the muscles of his back. Bruises coated the pale flesh- a symbol of how much work he had been putting in at training. He acted like she did not even exist, but to Charlotte that was even worse than a yelling match.
Searching for a familiar face, Charlotte noticed that the forty-three stall sat empty. His gear was already piled high. Figures. He probably was showering away his misery.
Charlotte grimaced, removing the rest of her gear and stacking it in the laundry bin in the center of the room. She scooped up a towel and her suit from earlier and headed towards the shower stalls. As the walked towards the showers, she felt as though the hallway was narrowing in on her. The air was thick and hard to breathe. Her lungs were working overtime and she took a deep breath in an attempt to regulate herself. Charlotte knew that she would have to face them all together tomorrow at practice before their next game, but for now she could disappear.
Throwing the curtain to her shower stall open, she stripped from the remaining of her compression clothing and turned the water to cold.
The liquid ice slammed into her skin like bullets, causing her freckled shoulders to shudder and shiver. Hastily scrubbing her body, the day's events unfolded in her brain once again. Taking deep breaths from her nose and mouth, back turned to the water, she finally let some tears slip down her porcelain face. The water cleansed her and soothed her aches and pains.
She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw before throwing a towel on and some flip flops. The locker room was quiet by now- she had showered for a long while. She shrugged a long towel around her shoulders and headed back towards the locker room to get dressed, being that she was the last one left. Instead of changing back into her formal attire, she threw her pantsuit into a laundry back then into her bookbag.
With a slick wet ponytail, Charlotte pulled on a pair of dark blue leggings that hugged her muscular figure. She threw her hoodie on over her cold arms and sighed heavily, turning to finish packing her bookbag.
Behind her, footsteps approached from the showers and she spun around, startled.
Her bright aquamarine eyes were met with those of her childhood best friend. His eyes widened with surprise and he let out a yelp. Dork. Charlotte thought, letting her eyes scan him briefly. A white towel hung from his hips, his entire chest bare and slick with water. She felt her cheeks heat up and quickly averted her gaze back to her bag.
"You took long," she said plainly. He cleared his throat loudly.
"Yeah," he agreed in a sigh. She didn't turn to face him but could hear the shuffle of clothes behind her. He was probably changing.
She stepped up one leg at a time into her locker room stall and tied her old white Reeboks. With a zip, her bag was packed and thrown onto her back. She silently turned, expecting to see Luke's stall waiting completely empty, being that she took extra time on purpose, but he was still there. He had his back faced to her.
Bruised messily scattered his pale skin. Some were fresh and red or dark. Others were old and green and yellow. The worst of them were around his hips. His skin was almost blackened with repeated blunt force trauma there. Hissing through grit teeth, Luke Hughes struggled to pull an oversized crew neck over his banged-up frame.
Charlotte spoke before she could even help herself.
"Your back," she said softly, just above a whisper. His head hung low, and he pulled his sweatshirt into his arms. His back was bare again and it raised and fell with the cadence of his scoff.
"I know," he answered blandly, "-all part of it I guess," he shrugged and caught himself wincing at the action.
Charlotte hesitated before agreeing and heading towards the door. She walked with a slight limp- her right hip had been bothering her. Swinging the door open she paused. The weight of her decision was apparent in the tension of her shoulders. She snapped her eyes shut, one side of herself arguing with the other side. Should she do it? Should she not? Had they coexisted for too long? Was it time to be friends again? Quinn and Jack had been begging her via FaceTime- she could only imagine what their messages to him had been. She felt torn. The coldness of her shower did help. Her mind, once foggy, was now sharp, focused, and ready to make her decision.
"I can help you, Luke," she whispered.
lolllll im so excited about the next chapter u don't even know AGAH sorry im also not editing cuz it gives me headaches LOL apologies if it sucks
