HAYDEN
The locker room still buzzed with post-practice energy, sweaty gear strewn everywhere, sticks clattering against the concrete floor, the faint smell of sweat and disinfectant lingering like an old friend.
Jason sat on the bench tying his skates even though practice was over. Logan was perched on top of his locker, tossing a puck into the air and catching it with lazy precision.
“Good hustle out there today, Michaels,” Logan called. “You planning on stealing all our ice time just to impress your girlfriend?”
I rolled my eyes, peeling off my gloves. “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend. Second of all, maybe you guys should try skating faster. Might help.”
Jason let out a low whistle. “Ooooh, defensive. That’s new.” He shot Logan a conspiratorial look. “Guess it’s official. Our
