dedicated to @poopninja_yehah for her lovely comments :D

S C O T T

"Can we - " Connor wheezed, voice raspy as he struggled to intake air. I turned and saw Con bent over, hands on his knees and he wheezed, " - take a break?"

I smirked and nodded, dropping onto the benches a few feet away. I had a tradition of going on a run every morning. It had started ever since I started playing hockey. And recently, Connor had been complaining that he was too out of shape. So, naturally, I invited him on my run, in an attempt for him to get in shape again.

Big mistake.

After about an hour - with a lot of breaks and complaints - Connor had called for yet another break. He had always been... unathletic; Connor had a fast metabolism, and never had to worry about staying in shape. And now, when he decided to try and run, it didn't exactly work.

"How much was that?" Con mumbled out, cheeks flushed bright red. He dropped down onto the grass and stretched out his sweatpant-clad legs, "It definitely had to be a few miles. At the last - the very least - it had to be ten miles."

I smirked and ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back from my face, "We barely broke four miles."

Connor's face fell, lips drawing down into a pout as he shook his head furiously, "Absolutely not."

"Absolutely," I grinned at his disappointed look. We really hadn't run that much, but my best friend looked close to passing out, "s'not my fault you're the most out-of-shape person in Canada."

Connor scoffed and shook his head, leaning back on his elbows as he evened his breathing, "That's the biggest exaggeration," I scoffed at that and he flipped me off, making me snort, "you're the biggest douche in Canada."

Rolling my eyes, I stood back up and rubbed my hands on my palms. I pulled out my phone and saw it was almost one o'clock; an hour before I had to be at the second day of practice. I was still ridiculously nervous that I wouldn't make the team, and the whole previous night, I had been running over everything Coach had told me I had done wrong.

And - despite not liking her - everything Elle pointed out that I did badly.

Connor groaned and I wrapped my hand around his outstretched one and pulled him up. We started the walk back home, albeit slowly, since we were both a bit slowly.

My thoughts were mostly focused on the practice for today. There was a few weeks of practice, and then a final three tryouts. By the last tryout, Coach Monroe would have the final team decided and then I'd know if I made the team or not.

"I should come to your pracitce," Connor said suddenly, falling into step with my strides. He cocked his head to the side and grinned up at me.

"No."

"But - "

"No. No fucking way," I retorted, cutting him off from continuing on with his point. There wasn't a chance in hell I would be letting Connor come to my practices; especially when I hadn't even made the team, yet, "I'll die before that happens."

Connor gave me a crooked grin, light brown eyes sparkling, "That can be arranged."

I narrowed my eyes at Connor and slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards me. I squeezed his shoulder tightly and Con groaned dramatically, "I swear, if you try to come to practice, I'll shove my hockey stick so far up your ass - "

Connor ducked out of my grip and flashed me a bright smile, "Point taken."

I loved Connor; I really did. He was my best friend, and eventually, I planned on letting him come to one of my games. (If I made the team). But he had a bit of a reputation when it came to coming to my games and practices.

Back in high school, Connor always came to my practices. He would tell all the guys embarrassing stories about me when I was little, and no matter what I said to him, he never stopped. The guys on the team - and Connor - had even gone as far as to tape embarrassing baby pictures of me to my helmet, right before a game.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Connor had a bit of a habit of getting kicked out of hockey games.

I remembered - quite perfectly - the time Connor had gotten kicked out of one of my hockey games in senior year. I had been checked, and, naturally, the other guy had been put in the penalty box. But Connor - being his ridiculous, protective self - thought the guy deserved more than just the penalty box. So he had moved down to the seat right next to the box, and called the most ridiculous insults he could.

The guy practically jumped out of the box and almost beat the living shit out of Connor. The referre had gotten the guy suspended, and Connor had been banned from ever coming to another hockey game at the school again.

Connor grinned and we stepped inside the apartment building, walking into the elevator. I sighed and leaned against the wall, brushing my hair back from my face and blowing out a breath. My legs and body still ached, and the run had only made my legs burn even more. I groaned quietly and leaned my head back against the wall of the elevator.

"You don't have to be so mean," Connor fake pouted, eyes widening as he feigned innocence. I smirked and patted him on the arm, "I mean, Kelly wants to come to one of your games, too."

My smirk widened at that and Connor's fare cheeks flushed an even darker red than they initially were. I quirked an eyebrow, "Kelly can come to my games," I laughed and Connor's jaw went slack in surprise, "because she wasn't banned from coming to my games."

"That was high school!" Connor exclaimed, tossing his arms up. His pout slowly drew up into a grin as the elevator stopped. I took a step forward to get out of the confined space, but Connor stood in front of me, lanky frame partially covering the open pathway, "Plus, when you make the team, I can just buy tickets to your games anyway."

"I'll make sure your tickets cost extra money," I smirked, bumping Connor's shoulder and stepping out into the hallway.

I knew Con wanted to come to my games - and maybe Kelly did, too. Or, it could've just been an excuse for Connor to spend time with Kelly.

When Connor moved to Toronto, he met Kelly and they instantly became best friends. And when I moved down here with Connor, the three of us had just became a group of extremely close friends. It was obvious that Con liked Kelly, despite how many times he said they were 'just friends.' (He always blushed at the mention of her). So naturally, I always teased him about it.

Stepping into the apartment, Connor threw hmself onto the couch, letting out a relieved sigh. I laughed and pulled off my sweaty shirt, tossing it at Connor. He groaned and swatted it off his chest, somehow managing to smack himself on the cheek in the process.

"Dickhead," I mused, kicking off my sneakers and shoving them in the corner.

"I heard that," Connor sing-songed, peeking his eyes out from beneath his arm.

Smirking, I padded across the living room, making my way towards the bathroom. I wrinkled my nose and pushed the door open. I turned around, and saw Connor sprawled out, cuddling a pillow, "You were supposed to!"

Practice went as it did the first time.

We split into two teams - the same that we had originally split into. Coach wanted us to do a full, proper game so he could see our skills in a game-setting. When we split into teams, we did quick warmups: a few laps around the rink, passes, and a few mini games.

Now, the real game was starting.

I was playing offense, up top with the other two guys playing offense, as well. I chewed on the piece that was supposed to be in my mouth and rolled my shoulders, trying to stay calm as Coach Monroe called out points to us. My head was spinning and I was struggling to stay calm. But that was hard - especially when Elle was sitting on the bottom bleacher, off to the right of me.

She hadn't said anything during practice, but every time I turned, she grinned and wiggled her fingers at me in the most infuriating way. She talked to a few of the other players, but I made sure to stay on the complete opposite side of the rink. And tried to avoid her gaze, boring into my back. (Especially whenever I made a mistake).

"Scott!"

I was knocked from my thoughts as one of my teammates shouted out my name. My eyes widened and my attention jerked back onto the rink, just in time to see the puck come to a nice, slow stop in front of me.

I slapped the puck and skated after it, pushing all thoughts of Elle out of my mind. I focused on the black cylinder a few feet in front of me; slapping it between and to the side with my hockey stick, I skated forward, trying to avoid the other players. I could hear my team calling my name; shouting for me to take it all the way.

I started to edge to the left, seeing how I was going to have to completely turn. I looked up and saw one of the other guys skating my way; one of the fucking huge guys, who looked as though he had three heads on me. Cursing, I slowed down and leaned to the left.

"Don't turn so sharply!" a female voice called out, just as I jerked myself to the left.

My back skate ended up slamming into my front one, and I lost my footing. I yelped and my stick fllew from my hand, sliding across the ice. I threw my hands out in front of me in a feeble attempt to protect myself, but my hands just slid on the ice, my gloves riding down my forearms. My face smacked onto the floor, and I howled out in pain when my nose slammed against the rim of my helmet.

I growled in pain and flipped myself onto my back. I pulled my helmet off, mouthpiece falling to the ground with it, and rested my head against the ice. I could feel blood dripping down from my nose, and bit down on my lip to keep the string of profanities at bay.

"Someone help him up!" Coach Monroe called, and I groaned, shaking my hands out at my sides to get my gloves off.

I lifted one hand lazily and waved off the upcoming guys. I pushed myself up slowly, barely managing to stand up without tripping. Gathering my balance, I grunted at the bombard of questions, "I'm fine. I just - my nose hurts."

"Your nose is busted," Monroe said, and I bit my lip again to keep from saying something rude to him. No shit my nose is busted, I thought, rubbing my hand across it and growling in pain, the blood now smeared on my hand, "get a napkin and sit on the bench for the rest of the game, Scott."

My jaw dropped at that, "What? I'm fine to play - "

"You're not skating around and bleeding all over the ice," Monroe said sternly, and I clenched my hands at my sides, forcing my temper down, "fifteen, thirty minutes, tops. Then you'll be back in."

His voice was stern and I ducked my head down, my cheeks flushed bright red. A couple of guys got my stuff for me, and I skated over towards the benches. I mumbled incoherent profanities under my breath, feeling extremely angry. And I wasn't just angry at Monroe; I was angry with myself, too. I was sitting out of the game because I tripped and busted my own face on the ice.

I pushed the door open and closed it gently behind me. I dropped down onto the first bench, right next to the penalty box. I unlaced my shoes and pushed them off to the side. Leaning forward, I pressed a fist under my nose and looked around for where the paper towels were.

"Here, you're about to stain the floor in red."

I narrowed my eyes at Elle, but reluctantly took the paper towel from her outstretched hand. I pressed it again my nose, and she sat down next to me. I turned away and kept my eyes focused on the game, ignoring her presence - which proved to be harder than expected, because she kept laughing at players' bad moves, or making quiet comments to herself.

I already strongly disliked Elle (since she had rudely pointed out my mistakes), but now I was furious with her. If she hadn't called out a stupid comment about the way I was going to turn, then I would've still been in the game. If she had been able to keep her comments to herself - which she evidently couldn't - I wouldn't be holding a paper towel to my nose.

"Scott - "

"No," I snapped, turning around to face her. Elle's eyes went wide, lips tugged down into a frown. She pulled her blonde hair back and quirked an eyebrow, "if you're going to say one thing about my turn, then just don't. I'm already sitting here because you couldn't stay quiet."

Elle did exactly what I expected.

She got mad. Her eyebrows pulled together, and little flames danced in her eyes. She bit down on her lip and rolled her eyes at me, making me smirk slightly. She was really going to be the one to get mad? She didn't have a disgusting, bleeding nose because someone couldn't keep their mouth shut while she tried to focus.

"Actually," she snapped back, letting her lips draw into a light smirk, "I was going to say your puck-handling wasn't that great, either. But now that you mention it, your turn was shit."

My jaw went slack as Elle stood up quickly and stomped her way over to a bench a few feet away. I stood there, staring at her in shock, not being able to close my mouth. I could barely process what she had just said.

"Seriously?" I muttered to myself, paper towel slipping through my fingers, "Shit."