Page 7 of Rival Season
We’ve only been on a team with Fisher for a few months, but Noah played with me all through college, so he first got to witness Chadwick’s loathing of me when we played against his college in the Frozen Four tournament our freshman year.
I unzip my bag and reach in for my cell phone, but I don’t find it. I pat the pockets of my suit. “I must’ve left my phone in the car. Fishy, can I grab your keys?”
Fishy is the adorable nickname Noah’s nieces came up with for Fisher.
“Don’t wreck anything,” Fisher says solemnly as he passes me the fob to his precious G-Wagon he hauls us around in. He always insists on driving and forbids us to eat or drink anything while we’re in the vehicle, which he gets waxed and detailed weekly. I genuinely think he loves that thing more than he does any human.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply, rolling my eyes before I sprint out of the dressing room. I’ve only got a few minutes before Coach Anderson and Coach Slater show up to give their pregame pep talks, and everyone knows you never want to make grumpy Coach Anderson mad by being late.
I’m halfway down the hallway when I spot the devil himself…Chad-dick.
He’s got his back half turned to me, but I’d recognize that trademark slicked-back blond hair anywhere—he’s worn it like that since forever, and the stupid style has always made me gag, because he’s as greasy on the outside as he is on the inside.
I take a couple of steps, wondering if I should alert Chadwick to my presence and say something to rile him up a bit, or if I should save it for the ice later.
Heckling other players is part of the game, but Chadwick’s got a filthy mouth and a mean streak a mile wide. His idea of heckling is to go for my jugular. Vile insults about my family, or lack thereof…and what he did with my ex-girlfriend, in detail.
I know he’s trying to provoke me, and most of the time, I don’t let myself fall for it. These days, I’m smarter than when he first met me, and I prefer to get even by winning. Watching him lose is way more satisfying than throwing a punch or a return insult.
Decision made, I keep my head down and walk towards the door to the parking lot, but I’m not quick enough. He turns, and the second his stupid beady eyes land on me, he smirks.
“Matthews,” Chad-dick drawls. “I thought I could smell the stench of poverty lingering around here.”
He says it without missing a beat, as if he prepared the insult in advance—almost like he was out here skulking around in hopes he would see me so he could deliver it before the game. Which is actually a little romantic, when you think about all the effort he went to.
“Hello, Chadwick," I say with a broad smile, then look pointedly at the top of his head. “Hair’s gleaming and shiny as always, I see.”
“Shut up,” he sneers—because as I suspected, unless he’s pre-prepared it, he doesn’t have an inkling of a clever retort in him. “Or I’ll beat your ass later.”
“Oh, like you did last time?” I ask with another smile. He glowers at me because we both know damn well that thelast timeI’m referring to, we were tied at two-two against the Fire Cats before Chad-dick took a two minute penalty near the end of the third for slashing. He was lashing out to try and get a reaction out of me, but the ref spotted it and he ended up in the box. One of our forwards, Sandine, scored during our resulting power play and won us the game.
“Watch your back,” Chadwick spits out. “You got lucky last time, but tonight, you’re going down.”
I clutch my chest in mock-terror before I shoot him a taunting grin. “Oooh, I’m quaking in my skates.”
And then, I’m officially bored and done with this conversation, so I turn around and walk off before he can think of something stupid to respond with. I feel his eyes boring daggers into my back all the way down the hallway, but I don’t really care.
Chadwick Weatherby can kiss my fine ass.
Two hours later, it’s one to zero, Fire Cats, and I’m sitting on the bench between shifts second guessing if it was a good idea to poke the bear before the game. Chad-dick has been riding my ass from the moment my skates hit the ice earlier, and though I’m doing my best to ignore him, he’s making it almost impossiblefor me to get my head in the damn game and focus on defending my teammates.
We’re halfway through the second, and he’s been taunting me even more than usual, trying every trick in the book to draw a penalty when the refs aren’t looking.
When I jump over the boards for my next shift, he materializes by my side right away, grinning. “Hey Matthews, I’m bored. Got another girlfriend I can hook up with?”
A surge of rage coils through me, but I remind myself to channel that rage into my game. I grit my teeth, ignoring Chadwick’s comment and instead focusing that rage into my legs, skating away from the bastard. I keep my eyes honed on the puck, which my teammate Derek Carver snags from one of the Fire Cats’ forwards. My anger propels me into action, skating up the ice towards the net, but Chad’s hot on my heels.
“I mean, I already have a girlfriend, but I’m always up for adding to my roster,” Chadwick says with a nasty leer.
I can't believe 2B downstairs ever went on a date with this guy. He's disgusting, and she's most definitely...not.
“Kind of like I did with Tori that night you were, how should we put it—” Chadwick goes on with a grating laugh “—unavailable?”
I bite down on my mouthguard, rolling my shoulders to calm myself. This guy really does not have a single original thought in his thick skull, I swear.
“Tori again?” I ask, forcing out a bored sigh as I watch Carver pass to Noah. I dart sideways to make myself open. Chadwick moves next to me, and I add, “And here I was thinking you might have some new material after our conversation earlier. I was digging all your big man threats; they made a nice change up from your usual obsession with my ex from a million years ago.”
Chadwick smiles. “Fine, let's talk about your dad instead, then. How’s life in the slammer for him these days?”
