Rookies Hit It Better

by Heather C. Myers

  It didn’t help that Knox was supposed to get his head out of his ass now that he was on a professional hockey team. Maybe he didn’t take it seriously because he played for the minor league, but surely, he knew better than to fuck this opportunity up. Once he had the experience required of him to get to the NHL, he would. Knox had always been touched by divine luck - when he wanted something, he usually got it.

  Beth pulled into the drive through, stringing her fingers through her hair. In some ways, she knew she was all Knox had, after his parents died in a car accident their sophomore year of high school. In fact, her parents took him in until he was an adult. Her parents made sure he continued playing hockey. Beth had to drive his ass to all of his practices and games.

  But that was what best friends did for each other, and as annoying and obnoxious and immature as Knox was, he was still her best friend.

  She came up to the drive through box and placed her order before rolling her window up. It was starting to get cold for November. Irvine - all of Orange County, really - was notorious for having a few days in October be blistering, despite the fact that it was supposed to be mid-fall. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. November was starting to cool things off, which was just as well.

  Leaning her head back against the cushion of the head rest, she began to rhythmically tap her steering wheel, waiting to get to the first window. She should have expected to get a call in the middle of her English Lit class from an Unknown Number. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have answered. However, being friends with Knox taught her that unknown numbers were usually police officers and she was needed to pick him up from jail. It wasn’t even like he was doing anything terribly illegal. He and his little group of friends - her group of friends, if she had to claim them - were being obnoxious and the cops were called. Rigo knew him by name now, and it wasn’t because Knox was a hockey player.

  Her car crawled up to the first window, and she handed the polite employee a couple of wrinkled bills, getting some change in return.

  Knox hadn’t changed since kindergarten, actually. Still a goof. All lean muscle and limbs. Dimples in his cheeks that made Beth’s heart skip a beat every time they popped in his cheeks. He had this infectious laugh - deep and raspy and guttural. She never wanted to laugh along because usually he was laughing at something stupid, but Knox always managed to wrangle something out of her, usually because she had no other choice but to get swept up in him and his enthusiasm for whatever stupid thing was amusing him this time.

  Also, because she had been in love with him since kindergarten, but that was neither here nor there. It wasn’t like he loved her back.

  She got to the second window and was handed a small bag of three, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She thanked the employee and drove off, not quite sure where she was headed. She should probably go home and catch a nap before she had to get to campus for her Sociology 101 class, but for some odd reason, despite the sheer exhaustion that seemed to course through her body, she wasn’t ready to head back to her Park West apartment.

  Instead, she drove to the University of Irvine campus, slowly munching on the cookies. She wanted to enjoy them, savor them. Yes, they were a little more than a dollar and she could always buy more if she wanted, but she wanted to enjoy these, especially since they helped her feel better.

  Being in love with her best friend was not an ideal predicament to be in, she realized, especially one like Knox. Despite his childish, goofy tendencies, he had this charm about him, which must have come from his grandfather. Knox visited the old man who kept a ranch in Tennessee and Knox was shipped off by his parents every summer to help him with ranch things. Beth couldn’t begin to fathom what that consisted of since she had been born in Irvine and lived in the large suburb her entire life. It was still difficult for her to wrap her head around the fact that people had acres of land.

  She took another bite of cookie and pulled up to a red light. She had some catching up to do, thanks to the impromptu phone call in her first class today. She probably shouldn’t have answered it. She probably should have let the call go to voicemail. She probably should have shown Knox that she wasn’t going to drop everything for him every time he called.

  “You’re pathetic,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

  Because it was true.

  Beth wasn’t trying to talk badly about herself. She genuinely wasn’t. But she also couldn’t help what she thought of herself. Any other girl in her position probably would have gotten over this already. She, on the other hand, was still locked up with Knox. It wasn’t like she assumed he would wake up and realize he was in love with her. Things didn’t work like that.

  Then again…

  “Pathetic,” she said again. The light finally turned green and she continued onward, passing University High School on the left, her alma mater. Her lips curved up. She knew most people hated high school and couldn’t wait to get out, but Beth wasn’t like that. She actually really enjoyed her time there, which was one of the reasons she chose to attend UCI. Not only did it have an excellent Criminology program, but it was local. It was close.

  To Knox.

  Because you’re building your life around him, a life that will probably never exist.

  And Beth wasn’t sure if that wasn’t the most tragic thing she let happen to herself - getting caught in Knox’s web and waiting for him to devour her, with a smile on her face.

  3

  Knox

  Knox loved early mornings.

  Most people assumed he detested them because he was also the same person who would stay out late drinking with the guys, but unless he had passed out from the previous night’s activities, he was an early riser under normal circumstances.

  He arrived at the Ice Palace a half hour before morning skate started, and he bumped into Jack and Alec in the locker room.

  “Heard you were arrested again, Knox,” Alec said, his eyes sparkling as he laced up his skates. “What’d you do this time?”

  Knox chuckled just thinking about it, dropping onto the bench and stretching out his legs. “Me and the guys were playing golf and one of them had a bullhorn,” he said. “Instead of playing golf, though, we just decided to push the horn any time someone tees off.”

  Alec snorted, shaking his head.

  “I would have been pissed,” Jack said, leaning back. He was the quieter of the two and his face gave nothing away in terms of amusement.

  “Oh yeah, they were,” Knox agreed. He began to peel off his Dickies shorts and replace them with tight black hockey pants. “One guy threw his club into the bushes where we were hiding out.”

  Alec snickered. “What’d you do?”

  “I told him he must have lost his golf club and waited until he teed off and did it again.”

  “Wow,” Jack said.

  A couple more players trickled in and silence took hold of the locker room. Knox shouldn’t be as amused by his antics after his little chat with Seraphina but he couldn’t help it. That was funny. Yes, he was a jackass. He knew that. That didn’t mean he was boring or stupid. He kept people on their toes. He made life fun. And he knew from personal experience that life could end in the blink of an eye. Why waste that time being pissed off when he could be laughing?

  After another few minutes, he pulled on his yellow jersey. As a third line winger, he was assigned this color along with his other linemates to distinguish who was who. He wanted to get a red jersey at some point, but he hadn’t earned it.

  Yet.

  That distinction belonged to Jack, Alec, and Eric. Orange belonged to Brendan, Logan, and Christian. And yellow was him, Tom, and Jeffreys. Green - the fourth line - belonged to the bruisers - Billy, Merrick, and Thompson.

  Most of the players were still getting dressed. The ice was freshly cut, and when Knox stepped out, stick in hand, he closed his eyes and began to warm up his leg muscles. There was something slightly orgasmic - hitting fresh ice by himself, moving at his ow
n pace, taking his time. Skating, to Knox, was akin to good sex, and Knox was an expert at both. He might not have the packed muscle on his lean frame, but he could skate faster than anybody on this team and he took advantage of that.

  Knox knew his strengths and his weaknesses. He wasn’t the sort of guy that should get into a fight, but if he did, he didn’t back down. He stayed away from checking completely just because he looked like an idiot. Because of his lean size, he tended to miss targets anyway and bounced off the heavier, sturdier players. But he could skate, he could stick handle, and he could shoot. Maybe his shot didn’t pack the same amount of power as someone like the behemoth that was Zdeno Chára, but it was accurate and had the tendency to squirt through goal tenders.

  Pucks already littered the ice, so after Knox skated around the length of it a few times, he used his stick to grab a puck. He stick handled lightly, not putting too much into it, and took a shot on the upcoming net.

  Top shelf.

  Knox smirked, curled the net, grabbed another puck, and made his way to the opposite neck on the other side of the ice.

  A couple of other skaters slid on. Knox nodded at them casually before taking another shot. This one hit the net, causing the back to push out. Those shots were always his favorite only because it made him feel stronger than he actually was.

  In a manner of minutes, everyone managed to get on the ice. Suddenly, he wasn’t by himself. That wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but it caused Knox to frown, pursing his lips together. He liked open spaces. He liked when there weren’t many people. And this applied to his world in general, not just the ice.

  The assistant coach, Ben Harvey, blew the whistle. The players stopped warming up and skated over to the benches where Harvey had a white board with a hockey rink on it.

  “Morning,” he said. “As you can see, Coach decided to take a morning off, which means I’ll be running practice today. This is not the morning you assume you can slack off. If anything, expect that you’ll be worked harder than you have before. Expect yourselves to be walking funny after. Expect to hate me after this, okay?” He cleared his throat. “Now, not sure if you heard, but we lost Jeffreys to a trade yesterday. In his place, we got Kent Cavile. He has a blue jersey on for now, but we’re in the process of getting him a yellow one. Coach expects him to start off as third-line center and go from there.” He clapped his hand on the player.

  Knox’s first impression of the guy was that he was a monster. He had to be more than six three with muscle mass that Knox probably would never have. He was also older by a few years, probably in his early twenties already.

  “Now, Cavile has played seventy-two games in the NHL with Pittsburgh but an injury kept him in the minors all of last year,” Harvey continued. “By the time he was ready to get brought up, Pittsburgh's strategy completely changed so they sent him to us. There is a chance that in a few games, he’ll be brought up as well.” He glanced at his group. “Which means the only reason he’s on the third line is for depth and so we don’t mess with the chemistry we’ve already crafted with the first two lines. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded or murmured in response. The truth was, Knox avoided the new guys as much as he could. The truth of the matter was, usually the players who were traded or picked up stayed in the AHL for a few games before they were brought up to go play for the big boys. There were some exceptions to that rule, including their team captain, Alex Sorsburg, but for the most part, the older Gus tended to have more experience and more of a chance of making the NHL team than anyone else. As such, he didn’t see the point in getting to know them when there was a chance they could be pulled up at the last minute.

  Instead, during practice, he focused on little things that made himself better - stick handling, increasing the strength of his shot, his skating. He was working on this through-the-legs move he still couldn’t seem to get, and during water breaks, would quickly grab water before running through the skill a few times. It was doubtful he would ever use it during a game, but he wanted to know he had the capability of doing it if he wanted it.

  “Nice move, man.”

  The low, almost quiet voice caused his head to snap up and his body to thrum with the need to jump. Thankfully, he didn’t. He didn’t want to look like a pussy.

  “Thanks.”

  Knox met the blue eyes of the new player and gave him a small nod. There was something too pretty about the guy that rubbed Knox the wrong way. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  “You’re Knox, right?” He smiled. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “Oh?” Knox arched a brow and continued to tap the puck back and forth a few inches in front of him.

  “You have the sort of reputation that precedes you,” he says with a shrug.

  “Thanks?” Knox wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. In truth, he didn’t think so. Then again, he didn’t want to make assumptions either.

  “Yeah,” Kent said with a nod. “I’ve watched you play. You’re fast, man. It’s hard to keep up with you.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to invite you to this kickback I’m having at my place this weekend. I’ve invited the majority of the team, but I want to get to know everyone I’m playing with and do some bonding off the ice. I remember doing that during Squirts, and I still remember every kid on that team. I think it’s important, you know, especially since any one of us could be called up at any point.”

  Knox held back a snicker. That wasn’t exactly true. He highly doubted he’d be pulled up to the NHL any time soon, especially after his little display yesterday. Seraphina had made that perfectly clear. Even so, he knew she was giving him some sort of olive branch, and he didn’t want to reject that either. He could refrain from getting arrested. It meant no more stupid shit, no more being an annoying asshole. He could do that.

  Kent’s eyes flickered up and down. “What?” he asked. “You don’t think you’ll get called up?”

  “It’s not that,” Knox said, shaking his head. “I know what I am. I know the type of player I am. I’m skilled, sure. Fast. But I’m not big and bulky. My shot could use more power behind it. I’m lucky to be where I am. In fact, I’m fine where I am. I don’t need the NHL to be happy.”

  “It’s not necessarily about being happy,” Kent said. “Don’t you want to be more than what you are? Don’t you want to live up to your full potential?”

  “Full potential,” Knox said through a laugh. “What are you, my mother?” He chuckled, hoping the sound wasn’t hollow.

  He wasn’t trying to be a dick. Really, he wasn’t. But why did Kent need to feel like Knox needed pressure to achieve great things. He could do that where he was. He didn’t need the badge of being in the NHL to prove anything to anyone. And he wasn’t lying; he was happy where he was.

  “As long as you aren’t afraid,” Kent said.

  “Afraid?”

  “Yeah. Some guys are afraid of being in the NHL. They settle for the minor league because, hey, it’s still an accomplishment, right? I’ve learned that the second you settle, is the second your playing turns shit. You have to want the win, the drive. You have to do everything you can to be better than what you are.”

  Knox wasn’t sure he agreed. To him, success wasn’t being the best. It was being happy. That was what his grandfather taught him, at least. His grandfather had a bunch of money saved up. It was how he paid for his hockey after his parents died. And he had gone farther than he ever expected he would.

  “Not sure about that,” Knox said. “Truth of it all is that I’m happy where I am. And I know my strengths and weaknesses. I’m always working to improve, but I’m well-aware of the fact that I’m not Wayne Gretzky. And I’m okay with that. The league - whether it’s the NHL or the AHL or whatever - doesn’t need a team full of Gretzky’s. They need a well-balanced team filled with a variety of players.”

  Kent didn’t look like he believed him. However, he wasn’t immediately contradicting Knox, which had to count for something. At the end of the day,
Knox didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. If Kent didn’t believe him, fine.

  Knox was happy. And as long as he was happy, that was all that mattered.

  4

  Beth

  Beth had no idea how Knox managed to talk her into showing up at a cold ice rink at seven in the morning. She liked sleeping in when she could - work and college classes already filled up the majority of her time and now she could add bailing Knox and their friends to that roster as well - and whenever she had to forego sleep in exchange for something else, she got cranky.

  It didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten yet.

  And it was cold.

  If she had balls, she was sure she’d be freezing them off - or however that saying went. She never understood it until now.

  Practice was already ten minutes in by the time she got there. She grabbed a hot chocolate with whip cream from the snack bar and stepped into the rink, trying to brace herself for the cold. She had been in thousands of rinks in her life thanks to Knox and somehow, she never got used to how damn cold they were. Sometimes, not even the hot chocolate could keep her warm.

  She mosied inside, bringing the styrafoam cup to her lips as she turned to the benches. The rink itself was practically empty, though the press crowded a small second-story platform.

  Beth frowned, taking them in. There were a couple of local papers at the practices, but something clearly was going on because photographers were taking pictures and journalists were hitting down notes. Even Harper Crawford was there, and Seraphina usually kept her focus on the Gulls - the Mayhem’s NHL affiliate.