Page 10 of Only Ever You

“Just one? Stop being so greedy.”

“Shut it, Vaughn,” I tease, “or you won’t get any.”

He scoffs. “I’m your best friend!”

“And a pain in the ass.”

He rolls his eyes as he skates away from me.

When the whistle blows again, Turner gets to the puck first and checks his shoulder into mine, pushing me away.

“Not today, Thompson,” he hisses, skating away from me.

Luckily, our defenseman, Lloyd, intercepts him and easily steals the puck. He sidesteps to the middle of the ice and then sends the puck back toward the boards, banking it right to where Asher is skating. Ash catches it with ease and takes off toward the net.

I follow him closely. Do I want to score? Sure. But he is my best friend, my teammate, and, more than anything, I want to win.

“Come on—” My words are cut off as I’m hit from the right, and my stick flies out of my hands. I was too focused on what was happening ahead of me to notice Turner gaining on me. Damn him.

With a grunt, I turn back, grab the stick, then push toward the white team’s net, keeping Turner from getting ahead of me.

Asher cuts to the net and, with a precise backhand shot, the puck sails over the goalie’s shoulder into the net.

Two to zero. I did nothing to help with that goal, but I’m ecstatic to be on the winning side anyway.

I rush to celebrate with the team, cheering loudly as we always do. Asher’s grinning at me, his blond hair falling into his eyes again.

“Even without my assist, you scored a goal.” I nudge him as we skate over to take our positions one more time.

“That’s because I’m awesome.”

“And smug.”

He lets out a laugh. “You’re one to talk.”

Coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice. We skate toward him, and I mentally brace myself for a lecture. There’s no way he’s not going to say something. But Turner gets to me first.

What a surprise…not.

He bumps his shoulder into mine and sneers, “Nice of you to ditch Coach’s speech for your girlfriend.”

I grit my teeth. His constant comments about Isla are getting on my last nerve.

“She’s my best friend.” I discreetly move my stick to my left hand. “And I’m not sure if you noticed, but my team won. That’s what matters.”

Before he has a chance to answer, I catch the back of his blade with my stick, and he stumbles forward. Rather than fall, he catches himself, but barely.

He glares at me, his face red with anger. “You…”

I wink at him. “Nice practice, Turner.”

With that, I join the rest of the guys, who have gathered around Coach. This dude doesn’t matter.

It’s kind of Isla’s and my thing—whoever finishes practice first sticks around to watch the other one. So now, I’m waiting for her as she goes to pick up her stuff. I stand with my back pressed to the wall outside the girls’ locker room when a woman I can’t see harrumphs.

“If anyone else left in the middle of the Coach’s speech the way that Thompson kid did, Coach would’ve benched them,” she says.

“That kid always gets special treatment,” a man replies. “I don’t get why. He’s nowhere near as good as his dad; based on what I’ve seen so far, he will never be.”