My Hockey Enemy

The place was packed with people watching the double rinks for the hockey tournament. I was dressed in the bottom half of my hockey equipment, my honey blonde hair in frizzy braids from my helmet, money in hand getting ready to order a hot chocolate from the concession. While waiting, I was thinking about how my team really needed to win the rest of today's games, to make it into provincials. Even though I was only one of two girls on an all-boys team, they treat us like we are their sisters. They've never hit on us (save that one time when we first made the team, and Jhona kinda flirted with Kinsly. He never did it again after coach Harlin told him we were going to be teammates for the rest of the season). Kinsly and I had to play on the boys' team because there weren't enough girls in our area for an all-girls team. Coach Harlin took the responsibility of reaching out to the Provincial administrators and begged them to let us play on his boys' team. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty good. Good enough to be Fourth River's first line center on their U18 team, and because Coach didn't want that talent to be wasted, or shipped to a different town's team. I was just about to order from the old lady running the stand when I was hit in the face with a foam puck. I squeaked a little over dramatically, not because it hurt but because it scared the s**t out of me. I stumbled out of line by accident, my place was quickly taken by the person behind me. I was so annoyed because I had been standing in line for ten minutes and I now had to go to the back again. I am the kind of person who needs revenge, so I picked up the foam puck and started for my dressing room where the rest of my team would be waiting. Kins and I had our own room to dress in, but we preferred to sit in the boys' during our downtime between games. I was looking down at the puck while walking, turning it in my hand trying to find a name, when someone stepped in front of me. He was a tall boy with curly brown hair that almost covered his eyes while he looked down at me. He was a good 4 or 5 inches taller than me, maybe 6 feet tall? I would almost call him cute till I saw the jersey he was wearing. The only team my team has never beaten. Then, to top it off, I saw he was carrying a stick with him. The rink's rules are to leave your stick in your dressing room unless you are going on the ice. I drew the conclusion it was him who hit me with the puck. I looked up and gave him a scowl. He saw my expression and ran his fingers shyly through his beautiful hair as if to move it from his eyes. He turned pink when my scowl remained and my gaze stayed on him. “That’s mine” he said with a sly smile, probably thinking he'd make me swoon for him. That look won't work on me, I wanted to tell him. I held my tongue though. Instead, I said “Cool. Mine now”. I moved to walk past him, but he stuck his arm out, stopping me. I turned to face him and gave him a big smile when I noticed he no longer wore his. “Can I help you?” I said as sweetly as I could. I recognized him now. I could tell he didn’t recognize me yet. He is my face off buddy. Every time my team has played his, we have been placed in the same line rotation. As a centerman we chase each other and check each other. This pairing has been happening since the first time our teams played each other. I usually end up in the sin bin because of him. All unfair. He should stay out of my way, and maybe I wouldn't hit him so hard. I'm surprised he didn't recognize me, or at least put two and two together, seeing as I'm one of three girls in the province who play in the boys' hockey league. I'm not exactly hiding as I'm literally wearing the bottom half of my equipment. Even with the clues, he probably thinks I'm some player's girlfriend or a puck bunny trying to find a player. Instead, he stared at me like I was crazy. He most likely isn’t used to being told no by girls. Not gonna lie though, if I hadn't recognized him, I admit I would have given it back. “If you wanted it” I started. “You wouldn’t have broken the rules by bringing it into the halls and shooting it at my head”. I chastised him with a hint of sass. He flushed a little pink again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to”. “Don’t care. Rules are rules and you broke them”. I looked at him with a smug look and walked off, still turning the puck in my hand. I realized when I walked through the dressing room door, I had forgotten my Da*m hot chocolate.