1. Bennett

Bennett

I walked into the rink for our first team practice of the season, and I couldn't help the feeling of excitement that came over me. It was good to be back in the rink. It had always been my happy place, the place where I felt most at home, the most myself. I'd loved everything about it from the first time I laced up my skates and hit the ice.

The crisp coolness of the air, the sounds of stick against stick and pucks sliding across the ice, the smells. Yes, the smells. Hockey gets a bad rap for the rather pungent odors associated with the sport. Hockey locker rooms – at least those at any level lower than the NAPH – are something of an olfactory nightmare. They're definitely not for the faint of heart. But come on! You try skating around and fighting for the puck for two or three hours in full pads and tell me how good you smell. But after playing this sport for most of my life, even the smells of the locker room soothed me. And I couldn't wait to experience it all again this season.

Admittedly, it took me a while to completely – well, mostly – shake off last season's playoff loss against the Giants. If I was honest, there was still a bit of lingering disappointment and frustration around that loss. And anger. Oh, there was definitely some anger. But that had mostly been aimed at Alexander "Xander" Harrison, the "X-Man" himself. Oh, and I definitely sneered that damned name in my head.

Since I'd been running a little late, I heard the raucous sounds of laughter from the locker room well before I made it to the door. Once I stepped in, I knew exactly what all the laughter had been about. As usual, Jester was acting a fool. And as usual, he was aiming the brunt of that foolishness right at Tank. He loved to get the big man riled up! It looked like Jester had been showing off his Magic Mike moves because he was currently shaking his ass right in Tank's face and trying his best to give him a lap dance, which Tank was having absolutely none of.

"Get your skinny little ass off me, Jester!" Tank unceremoniously dumped Jester onto the floor. Only a mountain of a man like Tank could get away with calling Jester skinny. He wasn't a beast like Tank – who was? – but few would call him skinny. Lean, yes, but the man was solid. And of course, Jester took Tank's teasing in stride, getting up on all fours and twerking his ass in Tank's direction.

"You mean this skinny little ass, big boy? You like it, don't you? Ohhhh, me so horny, Tank. Me love you looong time."

Before I even registered Tank moving, he'd grabbed his stick and whacked Jester right across his twerking ass, which everyone found insanely funny.

"Ow, man! That really fucking hurt! What the fuck did you do that for?" Jester whined, sporting a pout to rival any toddler.

Once Tank caught his breath from laughing, he put his hand out and helped Jester up off the floor. "You deserved it, you asshole. And "me so horny"? Really? What is this? 1989? Update your references, dude."

"How dare you! 2 Live Crew are classic! They'll never go out of style."

"They already went out of style… much like your sense of humor, Jester," Coach Mack interrupted as he walked into the locker room. "Now, sit your ass down. We got work to do."

Jester sat down without saying another word but not before working up another epic pout. Tank grinned widely and roughly punched Jester in the shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench. But Jester was laughing as he righted himself.

We rarely took any of the teasing in the team seriously, especially when it came from Jester. I took a seat next to Maestro, who'd greeted me with a welcoming smile and a fist bump when I walked in, and waited for Coach to begin.

Coach looked around the room once to ensure everyone was paying attention before he started speaking. "First off, I want to say how proud I am of everyone's efforts last season." He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the room, making eye contact with each player. "You all gave it everything you had. I know that, and I appreciate it."

He took a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "Unfortunately, things didn"t work out the way we'd hoped," he continued, his voice steady but filled with determination, "but it's a new season and a new chance to prove ourselves." He nodded, as if to reinforce his words. "I believe we can and will go all the way this year."

Coach took a moment to walk slowly in front of the benches, his eyes scanning the faces of his players. "But to do that, we need to give ourselves the best possible chance to succeed." He stopped, turning sharply on his heel to face the team head-on. "And it's in that spirit that I have an announcement to make."

He allowed a brief, dramatic pause, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "We've signed a new player who I believe will be an integral part of our winning strategy for this season." Coach glanced at the doorway, then back at us, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "This person has already shown great potential and drive in the playoffs last season."

Coach then gestured toward the door. "So, without further ado, please help me welcome to the team our newest left wing, Alexander Harrison."

Coach looked straight at me and I couldn't hide my shock, which quickly turned to anger when I saw Xander fucking Harrison walking toward us. With that carelessly tousled blond hair of his, he looked like a cross between a surfer dude and a damn boy bander. For his part, Xander seemed to be perfectly at ease as he sauntered into the locker room, smiling and first bumping my teammates as if he'd known them all of their lives. That motherfucker! He was dressed down in a teal t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats that were fitted a bit too tight for my liking. Sweats were supposed to be a little loose and comfortable, not a casual version of skinny jeans for God's sake. But why did I care how tight his sweats were?Or how that too-tight fit emphasized the sizable bulge between his legs? Jeezus! What the hell was wrong with me?

Before I knew it, he was standing in front of me, smiling so widely his dimples were popping. Of course he had fucking dimples! He put his hand out for me to shake, telling me he was really looking forward to hitting the ice with me. Oh, he'd be hitting the ice, alright, preferably with my skate up his ass. But I just gritted my teeth and smiled – although, I'm sure it looked more like a grimace – and said, "Welcome to the team." Inside, I was still fuming, though. What the fuck was Coach thinking? This was going to be a disaster. How were we supposed to play on the same team? We couldn't stand the sight of each other, despite Xander's outwardly friendly demeanor. And to my absolute horror, Maestro scooted over and made a place between us for Xander to sit. I glared at my traitorous goalie then turned my whole body away from Xander so quickly that my legs bumped into Tank, who was seated beside me. He gave me a quizzical look, then turned his attention back to Coach.

I had mostly been tuning Coach out as he droned on about Xander's impressive stats and about how quickly he'd risen through the minors. But my attention snapped back to him with laser focus when Coach Make-My-Life-a-Living-Hell said he was assigning Xander and me to be practice buddies. God-fucking-dammit! And he even used that term, "practice buddies." Was this the damned pee-wee league now? I honestly did not think I'd ever heard that term leave Coach's lips in all the time I'd known him. Guess he was saving it for a special occasion just like this. The bastard!

"Bennett, you run Harrison through our warm-up routine," Coach Mack instructed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Then I want you two running drills. Put your heads together and figure out how to best use each other's strengths."

Coach flipped through the pages on his clipboard, making quick notes before locking eyes at Xander and me. "You're teammates now. Make the most of it. You two learn how to effectively work together, and there won't be a team in this league that can defend against you."

Coach Mack"s eyes swept across the room, ensuring everyone was on the same page. "Alright everyone, get suited up and hit the ice. Let"s do this, gentlemen!" He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the locker room, and headed for the rink.

As the team started moving, I followed right behind him, my mind racing. I wanted to catch him before he left the locker room.

"Coach, can I have a quick word?" I said to his retreating back.

Without even turning to address me, he said, "Later, Bennett. Right now, just get your gear on and hit the ice."

And with that, he had summarily dismissed me. So, having no other option, I suited up and headed out to the rink… and to Xander Goddamned Harrison.

Throughout the warmup, we were ok… mostly. We did everything side by side and competed for speed. Or endurance. Or strength. Like I said, mostly ok. At least we weren't actively trying to kill each other. That is, until we started scrambling for the puck. Honestly, the way we fought for that thing, you'd have thought we were still on opposite teams. For my part, I mostly tried to ignore him. I knew I was doing the opposite of what Coach had said to do in the locker room, but I couldn't help it. Every time I looked at that asshole, he was smiling at me with a shit-eating grin on his face that I could see right through his helmet. I swear, I even saw those damned dimples of his. He didn't say anything to me at first, but once he started to realize I wasn't ever going to pass to him, no matter what, he began taunting me and generally just trying to get under my skin. As if that was hard to do. Just his damned presence on this team infuriated me.

"Hey, old man, are you going blind? I've got a straight shot to the goal!" Xander shouted at me when I refused to pass the puck to him. Then he started leaning into me as he skated past, saying things like, "Those old legs of yours gonna make it, Bennett?" and, "You're a little slow there, man. Did you forget to drink your Ensure this morning?" and, "Take your time, grandpa. I'll just wait for you in front of the goal." I finally had enough when the asshat literally skated a circle around me as we flew down the ice toward the goal. He skated a motherfucking circle around me! I was livid! How dare he insult me like that? How dare he make a fool of me like that? So, the next time he skated up to me, I tripped him with my stick. "Oops! Sorry man, my bad!" I yelled as I skated past him.

By that time, a red-faced Coach had reached his limit and called us both over. I could practically see the steam coming off of him. I was surprised the man hadn't melted the ice he was standing on.

"What the fuck are you two doing out there?" he asked, looking first to me, then Xander.

He gave Coach his best boy-next-door innocent look and replied, "Well, I'm just trying to play hockey, but Bennett seems determined not to let me. He's completely ignoring me out there, Coach."

"He's just never in the right spot," I defended. I knew I was in the wrong – Coach knew it too – but I wasn't about to admit it. So instead, I doubled down."Maybe if he weren't so busy showboating, he'd be where I needed him to be, and we could complete a damned goal. Is it my fault he's useless as a teammate?"

I thought Xander's head was going to pop right off. My mind helpfully inserted a cartoon image of him literally blowing his top, complete with steam shooting straight up in the air. It was all I could do to stifle a laugh. But one look at Coach's infuriated face, and my humor died a quick death. I could see the muscle twitching in his jaw as he gritted his teeth, trying to control his anger.

"You two are supposed to be on the same goddamned team now. And I want you to start fucking acting like it. I wanted you to be Xander's mentor, Bennett, not his tormentor."

For a second, I felt legitimately bad about some of my actions on the ice – some of them, not all of them. Then I saw Xander's smug grin, and I wanted to punch him in his damned pretty-boy face!

"Now, get back out on the ice and act like the professionals you're supposed to be. Bennett, you've been at this a lot longer than Harrison, so stop ignoring the kid and share some of your hard-won expertise."

As we skated back out, Xander was still fucking smiling at me. I fixed him with a glare and said, "Pay attention, kid, and you might learn something."

Xander's smile morphed into a full-on smirk as he taunted me with his words. "Oh, yeah? You gonna teach me how to make a game-losing goal?"

My gloves were off before I'd even registered I'd done it as I all but attacked Xander, slamming him up against the plexiglass surrounding the rink. I got one good hit in before I was dragged off of him. Jester held me back while Tank did the same for Xander. Before we could break free, Coach's voice rang out loud and clear.

"Bennett, Harrison, get your asses into the locker room and wait for me. The rest of you get back to work."

Shit! Coach is pissed!And rightly so. Xander and I hadn't even made it two minutes before throwing hands. What is it about this guy that gets under my skin so much?

Xander and I slowly trudged to the locker room and sat as far away from each other as possible, waiting for Coach while pretty much looking anywhere but at each other.

When Coach walked in, slamming the door behind him, both of our heads snapped up and towards him.

"You two, get over here in front of me. I'm not going to get a crick in my neck turning back and forth between you.

I looked over at Xander and he looked just as unhappy as I felt, but we both reluctantly and very slowly moved toward each other.

When we were about a foot apart on the bench, Coach looked between us and graced us with an eye roll so dramatic, he could have passed for an angsty teenage girl.

"What. The. Fuck is wrong with you two? Are you trying to piss me off? Or are you just too stupid to care?"

We both opened our mouths to reply, but he cut us off before we could get a word out.

"Shut up. I don't care. What I do care about is the fact that two of my top players are acting like schoolyard bullies fighting for playground territory instead of professional hockey players. You do understand you're teammates now, right?"

Again, we both opened our mouths to reply, but Coach cut us off with a look.

"How well do you know your stats from last season? Do you know in which games you both had your best stats of the season?" Coach asked as he again looked between us.

This time, we didn't even attempt to answer him.

"Your best stats of the season were when you played each other. The two of you repeatedly brought out the best in one another. That's why I pushed for this trade. I figured if we could replicate that when you're on the same team, you would be unstoppable. And I still believe that can happen… if you can get your heads out of your respective asses, that is."

We both stared at him, mouths hanging open, dumbstruck by this information.

"Close your mouths before you start catching flies. I want you to look at each other."

When we did nothing, he yelled, "I said, look at each other!"

We slowly turned to awkwardly look at each other, waiting for whatever Coach would say next.

"The man you're looking at is your best shot at a spot in the NAPH. You make each other better. And if you're not smart enough to make the most of that, there's no hope for either of you."

At that, he clapped each of us on the shoulder, and then left.

We were still sitting there dumbfounded when the rest of the team loudly made their way into the locker room, shaking us out of our stupor. And as I found myself drawn into the after-practice reverie, I kept sneaking glances at Xander and wondering if Coach just might be right. For some reason, the thought made me a little uneasy. And even more disconcerting, every time I snuck a look at Xander, he was looking right back at me.