Enemies Until Dark

ADRIAN'S POV The familiar sound of the roaring crowd had filled my ears before we even stepped onto the ice. The sold-out arena was packed with blue and silver, as well as red and white, with thousands of fans on their feet as the BOSTON VIPERS emerged from the tunnel. Cameras flashed from every direction, and commentators were already talking about the game and who they thought would win. Boston knew what tonight meant. This was two fierce teams colliding again. The last game had been rough and intense, and that had been two years ago. The Boston Vipers and the New York Wolves had been the talk of the town for three weeks after the announcement. It had been on billboards. It was on the news, on the radio, and all over social media. Everyone knew this was going to be a one-of-a-kind match, and they were ready to see the second chapter of the rivalry. My team and I had been preparing like we were going to war because I had heard they had assigned a new captain, and he would be playing in this game. Everyone cheered my name. “Captain Callahan! Captain Callahan! Captain Callahan!” The cheerleaders weren't failing either. They had prepared new outfits that were even more beautiful than the previous ones, and the crowd seemed to love every second of it. The screaming from the opposite side of the arena became louder with their chants, and that was when I knew the Wolves had arrived. The noise alone was enough to make the temperature inside the arena feel a few degrees colder. I didn't pay them any mind. Instead, I turned toward my teammates. While we were done talking, one of my teammates pointed to something behind me. “Well, their new captain sure looks intimidating.” “Well, that's not an issue for the Vipers,” I said grumpily as I put my helmet down and tightened my grip around my stick. I turned to face the opposite side of the rink, and for a moment, time seemed to stop working. My eyes caught the sight of a familiar figure. Rowan Vasilev. I knew for sure because even in a crowd of hundreds of people, spotting him wasn't hard. I never knew he was had come back to be a professional hockey player, let alone the new captain of the New York Wolves. Two years ago, he had called me all sorts of horrible names because I played hockey. The irony was quite laughable. And this time, I was determined to completely humiliate his team and show him what hockey was all about when it was in your blood. He stood near the Wolves' bench, his helmet tucked beneath one arm as he listened to his coach. His dark hair was slightly damp from warm-ups, and he hadn't failed to bring his arrogant persona into the rink. I looked away first, not because I was intimidated, but because I wasn't about to give him too much attention. That would be like lighting a match while standing beside gasoline. “Hey, Captain,” my teammate called as he skated around me, knocking his stick slightly against mine. “He sure looks pretty intimidating, but if you stare at him one more time, he might just chicken out and run home.” “Yeah, he won't,” I replied with a laugh. “I don't think so. He hasn't stopped staring at you. I think bro is legit scared.” He laughed as he skated away. I glanced at the scoreboard. Boldly written across it was BV vs. NYW, and looking at it this time gave it a different meaning because my opponent was my long-lasting enemy. A rivalry that had started long before I was even two years old. I was eight when I first met Rowan. Our parents had attended one of those ridiculous events where adults dressed in expensive suits and pretended they weren't measuring each other's worth. The Callahans, my family, had been sitting on one side of the ballroom while the Vasilevs had sat on the other. My father had leaned down and told me to stay away from the Vasilevs, especially the last son, even before we entered. I had always been the rebellious one, so naturally, Rowan was the first person I looked for. Tracing the nanny's movements, locating Rowan wasn't difficult. He had been standing near the fountain, and I could tell he was bored out of his mind because he kept staring at the glass of sparkling juice in his hand while an adult talked to him. The moment he noticed me standing there, he walked over. “I bet I can beat you in a race.” I frowned. “From where to where?” He pointed toward the garden. Looking troubled, I said, “Yeah, we're not allowed to go there.” His grin widened. “Then don't get caught, coward.” That statement threw me off, and before I could think twice, we raced. He had won by only a step. I wasn't really bothered until he turned toward me with that smug expression and said, “Yeah, as expected of a Callahan.” That was when it hit me. He knew who I was. And I hated him for it. Ever since then, the rivalry only grew. From school to charity events, summer camps, family gatherings, everything became a competition. Somehow, he always knew where to find me, everywhere I went. And what did our families have to say about it? They loved it. They saw it as another way to practice their superiority over one another. The referee called us onto the ice. Rowan and I stood on opposite sides, face-to-face. For a split second, I felt a little cold that was different from the temperature of the arena as I looked at him. He had a lazy grin on his face, like he was already sure of how the game would go. Then he leaned slightly closer. “Still angry with me, Callahan?” His voice was quiet enough that only I could hear. “You've been talking for thirty seconds, and you've already managed to annoy me.” His smile widened. “Good. I was worried you'd started going into boring mode.” “You wish. You know, it's funny you're standing here after insulting the game two years ago. Seems like you missed me too much.” “Ha-ha. Funny,” he shot back, scoffing like he had no memory of the event. Across from me, Rowan lowered his head slightly and locked eyes with me. The moment the puck dropped, the game became a war. A few seconds into the game, Rowan hit me against the boards, making my shoulder slam into the glass. The crowd exploded. I turned immediately and pushed off after him. He didn't seem to mind. He only glanced at me once and laughed. That same laugh I hated so much. “Yeah, typical Callahan.” That was the last straw. I caught up with him near the blue line and knocked the puck away before he could pass it. That was when I scored my first goal. Rowan and I tore across the ice. Every time he stole the puck, I took it back. Every time I blocked his shot, he found another angle. When he scored, he turned toward me with a triumphant grin before celebrating with his teammates. When I scored, I made sure he saw the number on the scoreboard. The crowd seemed to have noticed the rivalry, and as expected, they loved it. The commentators loved it even more. “This rivalry is unbelievable!” one of them shouted through the speakers. “Callahan and Rowan simply cannot leave each other alone!” The next forty-five minutes were brutal. Aggression, relentless pressure, weakness, anger, frustration, and anxiety all played a role, and eventually, it came down to the final three minutes with the score tied. Sweat ran down the side of my face beneath my helmet. My lungs burned, and, as expected, the Wolves were good. But at the critical moments, they had possession of the puck. Rowan seemed to know my moves. His counters made me understand that. The moment he came toward me with the puck, I knew I had to change my strategy and adjust my moves at the last second. I lowered my center of gravity and blocked him when he tried to cut through. Within a split second, we were face-to-face. Rowan shoved me away, and the puck flew loose. That was my moment. After a swift pass to my second wing, he shot the puck, but it hit the post and slid straight toward me. Without skipping a beat, I swung. Goal! The arena exploded. It was the winning goal at the last minute. My teammates surrounded me, shouting and celebrating, but my eyes darted toward the rink. Rowan was removing his helmet, and he looked irritated. That was my pleasure. I left the rink feeling like the best version of myself had just started surfacing. I had beaten him in the very game he had once shamed me for. My teammates came over, teasing me. They wanted me to give them the gist because they knew too well that I'd never been that aggressive during a game. There had to be some backstory between me and the captain of the New York Wolves. I ignored them and went straight into the locker room. The locker room was total chaos. Everyone was shouting, laughing, and getting ready for the home party at a teammate's place. Amidst the chaos, a notification popped up on my phone. It was from Dad. Dinner, Sunday. Don't be late. Dress normal. I scoffed at the last part because we both knew I wouldn't. Then another notification popped up. It was an image posted in our team group, and I tapped it. My face-to-face encounter with Rowan had been captured perfectly. Looking at the picture, we looked like we were inches away from killing each other. Seeing it from someone else's perspective made it funny. It also made it understandable why everyone seemed obsessed with our rivalry. I covered my face and wore an oversized hoodie as I walked out because I knew reporters were waiting for me at the front, and that type of noise was the last thing I needed. When I got to my apartment, my girlfriend, Selene, was already waiting for me in the sexiest, most romantic way possible. Yeah. That's how I wanted to spend my night.