Post Olympic

Dye

alright alright alrighhhhhht

we have about 7 chapters left, six if you don't include the epilogue/prologue I'm posting at the end. It's not really an epilogue for this book, it's not even any of the same characters, but, it's your introduction to Steph (I doubt you'll remember Steph from when they played Boston in the fall) But, it's his story's prologue. Which is a big deal, considering I'm going to try to launch that in mid-February. (yes, that means more Fen, Nico and the Wolves content)

cool, alright, that was the introductory blurb. 

MUSIC: danger to myself - unlikely canidates. (okay at this point, some of the music doesn't match much at all, it's just my current bop, but in the upcoming chapters, it'll start to match again)

also: swearing. Sorry

wait; terms: the show - the NHL

-rabid

******************

"Boys, you did it." I open my arms up in the locker room, grinning mostly at Fenrir, but at the rest of the team too. "Look at yourselves. Stanley Cup finalists." I put my hand over the patch on my jacket that says finalists. "Put your hands over that patch." They do as I say. "If we don't win this, we've made it this far. Fuck the winning and the losing right now. Look at you. You rag-tag group of misfits from everywhere, Russians, Mongolians, Brazilians, Canadians, Americans, Columbians, Norwegians, Swedes, British, South Africans, you name it. Look at you. We made it! We took this shit program and put it back together, and now look at us. Tie your skates, boys, buckle the straps on those helmets, god, I hate that color. Graveyard in the rain. Horrible." I laugh and shake my head. "Get your heads in this, get your hearts in this. Yeah, we might lose. But so what? We've got next year. What's important is that we sucked, and now we don't suck all that bad. But fuck losing, right?" 

I jump off the table and get loud, howling my speech at them. "YOU'VE WORKED YOUR ASSES OFF FOR THIS MOMENT. THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE. JUMP ON THAT ICE AND GIVE IT YOUR DAMN DREAMS. THINK ABOUT ALL THE TIME YOU SPENT AS A KID WATCHING THE SHOW AND WONDERING WHEN IT WAS GOING TO BE YOUR TURN. LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING! IT IS YOUR TURN BOYS. NOW. RIGHT HERE. IT'S YOUR TURN TO TAKE THAT CUP AND LIFT IT UP! HEAR ME? MAKE. THIS. SHIT. COUNT." I wrap my arms around the guys closest to me. Right skates in.

Right skates and a boot, two dress shoes, and Jorgen's sneaker.

"Right, left," Fenrir mumbles. We lean forward, then backward. It starts as a mumble.

"Sal-sa," We whisper.

"Sal-sa." We say it now.

"Sal-sa!" It's a scream.

"SAL-SA. SAL-SA. SAL-SA!" It's a howling.

"SHIT IN A BOWL WE'RE OUT OF CONTROl!" we yell it as loud as we possibly can.

"WOLVES!" It's the closing to the cheer and we start to jump and yell. "WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES!"

"GO GO GO GO GO GO!" I wave them out the door and they sprint toward the door, toward the ice.

"Game time," Hadley mumbles.

"Game time." 

***

"SHIT IN A BOWL WE'RE OUT OF CONTROL!" Fenrir has me off my feet within milliseconds of being in his apartment. I'm laughing and screaming a little as he spins me around in his living room. "One down, three to go."

"Fen!" I laugh, clinging to him. He drops me to the floor, grinning like mad.

"Oh my god," He drops back to sitting on the couch, his hands running through his hair. "Nico do we actually have like a shot at this? We didn't get obliterated by the top team in the league, and, god, tomorrow we're heading to Colorado to play them again, Nico, oh my god."