S C O T T

Have you ever met someone who left an immediate impact on you? Every word they said left you feeling a certain type of way? Someone you knew you would never forget? Elle was that person. Except that impacts she left were just awful.

I had only known Elle for a few days, yet every time I talked to her, she left me feeling more annoyed and angry than before.

She was a few benches down, huffing and puffing about how I had rejected her apology. And I couldn't help but roll my eyes every time she turned and looked at me, eyes narrowed into slits. She had absolutely no reason to be mad because I hadn't accepted her apology. She was the reason I was sitting out with a busted and bruised nose.

I turned and caught Elle's gaze. Her light eyes narrowed again and she turned the other way, making me scoff. I had met a lot of people in my life - annoying teammates, rude schoolmates, even family members that I dreaded visiting. But Elle was the worst. She was just so annoying.

My phone buzzed and I looked down, seeing a message from Connor. I had texted him the whole thing that had happened, since it didn't look like Coach Monroe was going to be letting me back in the game anytime soon. Plus, I just needed to rant about Elle before I exploded.

From Connor:

wait, wait. slow down. you busted up your nose.. at the second practice? HAHAHHAHAHAH.

I glared and typed back a quick, 'screw you, she busted it' and stuffed my phone back into my bag. I heard it vibrate a few more times, but I ignored it. Regardless of what I told Connor, the second I walked through the door, he'd want me to tell him the whole story in full detail. He was like that; no matter what I texted him, he wanted to hear everything in person.

"You know," her voice rang out, much closer than I thought she was, "you're not, technically, supposed to have your phone out during practice."

I turned, not surprised to see that Elle was leaning against the glass wall that separated the players from the audience, a few feet away. She was still frowning, but now she wasn't pacing around, glaring, and muttering things under her breath. (I was sure they were all rather rude, but I didn't bother to ask).

"Great," I muttered, pulling the paper towel from my nose and dropping it next to me. It had stopped bleeding - Thank God, "but in case you didn't notice, Elle, I'm not practicing. I'm not even allowed to participate in practice."

She rolled her eyes, "It's that kind of attitude that gets you busted noses."

My eyes widened in anger and annoyance, "No. It's you, yelling out while I'm trying to focus that gets me a busted nose."

I was prepared to get up and leave - since I really couldn't stand Elle at that moment - but she held up her hands and shrugged, letting it go. I sighed and sat back down, leaning back against the edge of the bleacher behind me. There was only a few minutes left of practice, and I was practically counting down the seconds until I could go.

Neither Elle nor I said anything. I did feel a bit bad about how quickly I had rejected her apology, and how fast I had almost snapped at her. But every time I talked to Elle, she was either insulting something I had done wrong, saying something sarcastic, or getting me an injury. It was hard to want to talk to her.

She twisted her fingers, looking a bit uncomfortable. I quirked an eyebrow lazily and she sighed, "Scott - "

Before she could finish her sentence, Coach Monroe blew his whistle. He turned to me and beckoned me back onto the ice. I didn't want to hear what Elle had to say - I jumped up and made my way through the bleachers.

I walked carefully over the ice, seeing as I had already taken off my skates and replaced them with sneakers. When I got close to the huddle, I shoved my hands in my pockets and shivered. I bit down on my lip; standing on the ice in a t-shirt wasn't the best idea because it was fucking freezing. I frowned and ducked my head down.

"All right! Good practice today!" Monroe said, and I scoffed lightly again. Good practice for everyone, but me, "there was a lot of good effort, and I'm glad to see some of you progressing already."

He shot me an apologetic look and I blushed and turned away. It was embarrassing, that in the second practice I had been forced to sit out. So far, I had only shown a few good things in the first practice, and then proved that my turns were sharp. It hadn't been a very successful two days.

"Tomorrow's practice has been moved up and is now starting at two o'clock," I made a mental note as Coach Monroe kept talking, "we'll be doing something a bit different tomorrow, I hope you're all ready. Head home!" I turned to leave, but Monroe added, "Wilson - wait a minute."

I groaned quietly, and turned, a million scenarios racing through my head.

I prepared myself for Coach Monroe to tell me not to even come to practice tomorrow. For him to say I hadn't done well enough in the past two days, and there wasn't a point for me to continue attending practices. My stomach dropped down to my feet and, despite the cold of the rink, I felt my palms break out in nervous sweat.

I looked up, meeting Coach Monroe's eyes, which were the exact same color as Elle's. I turned a bit and saw her in the same position; leaning against the wall, back towards me, now. I licked my lips and turned back towards Monroe.

My heart was racing, but all he said was, "How's your nose feeling?" with another apologetic smile.

I blew out a relieved breath; he wasn't cutting me already, "Yeah," I nodded, poking the end of my nose. I winced. Bruised, but no broken, "it'll be fine, just a bit bruised. Will I be able to join practice tomorrow?"

"Eager. Good attitude," he grinned and nodded, making me blow out another breath of relief, "'m glad you're feeling all right. You've got potential, Wilson."

Coach Monroe turned and walked off the nice, leaving me standing there, a mad grin on my face. I wasn't being cut.

I slowly made my way off, too, back to where Elle stood waiting. I shouldered my bag back on, zippered it up, and grabbed my jacket. I made sure I had everything and turned, headed towards the exit. I was a bit surprised that Elle hadn't said anything - finished off what she was saying earlier. But I was glad. Nothing could ruin my good mood.

I navigated the halls quickly, following the signs taped to the walls that led to the exit. The whole time I had an excited grin on my face. I'd be able to participate tomorrow in practice. Coach had even said I had potential and, as far as I knew, he hadn't really given any other single comments to the other players.

I pushed open the door and groaned at how chilly it had gotten. It was about five-thirty, and the sun was already starting to set. It was nearing winter, and Canada was brutal in the winter. It didn't turn into an iceage, but it was cold enough to make me wish I lived in the Bahamas.

I got to my car, opened the back door, and threw my stuff in. I wrinkled my nose and slammed my door shut, glaring at all the trash through the window. I loved my car, I really did. But I was bad at keeping up with cleaning, and the back of my car had started to resemble a dumpster. A dumpster filled with Tom Horton's wrappers and empty bottles.

I turned and frowned, seeing that Elle was jogging in my direction. For a split second, I hoped that she was going towards something behind me, but when her eyes locked on me, her stride got more purposeful and she turned more in my direction. I grimaced at the thought of what she had to say, but reluctantly leaned against the edge of my car.

I wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm and quirked an eyebrow when she finally stopped in front of me, "Yes?"

"I wanted to give you a proper apology," Elle said, lips drawn into a straight line. She ran her hands through her blonde hair, "I'm sorry I called out while you were skating. That was rude of me to break your attention - even if it wasn't the best turn."

I ignored the last part, and instead focused on the fact that she was apologizing. It was nice, to hear her apologize for her actions instead of saying something rude. So I gave her a small smile, nodded, and mumbled a "thank you." I turned away, grabbed the door handle (because I really was freezing my balls off). But before I could open the door, Elle grabbed my bicep and I turned to her.

Again - a bit annoyed this time - I hummed another, "Yes?"

She scratched the back of her neck, and I did notice that she didn't look so confident in that moment. Elle always seemed to have this air of confidence with her; a bit cocky, albeit, but it was an attractive quiality. But in that moment, she semed uncomfortable and at a loss of words.

"And I, uh - " her frown deepend, but she took a deep breath and locked eyes with me, again, " - I wanted to offer you something."

My eyebrows furrowed, a thousand different things running through my mind at her sentence. Instead, I just nodded and pursed my lips together, "Which is?"

"We both know you can't fix the things you're messing up on your own," before I could cut her off, she continued on, "and they could keep you from making the team. So I was wondering - offering. I'm offering that I can help you out. You know, give you lessons. I can teach you how to fix all the things you screw up."

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I knocked on the door to the apartment and hummed angrily as I waited for Connor. The second Elle had made her stupid deal, I promptly said, "no" and turned and got in the car. She stared at me, open-mouthed, and I just drove away, anger fueling me to drive faster.

Connor opened the door, and I made a move to step inside, but he put his hand on my chest and stopped me. I frowned and he just grinned, brown eyes sparkling. I was annoyed; my nose had begun to throb, Elle had gotten on the last of my nerves, and the last thing I wanted was another one of Connor's weird hockey facts he read online.

"Move," I ordered, but Connor just shook his head, blocking my entrance to the door, "Con, I love you, buddy. But don't make me bust your nose, too, to get inside."

"No need to resort to violence, sunshine," Connor smirked and took my bag from my hand. I didn't have time to react before he threw it inside, grabbed his keys and a coat, and slammed the door shut behind him.

I stopped, my jaw going a bit slack. I couldn't get in on my own; my keys were in my hockey bag, which Connor threw inside, "What the hell, Con?"

"C'mon," he said, already taking long-legged strides down the hallway, "I'm fucking hungry, man. We have a lot to talk about and there's that new restaurant a few blocks away." I didn't move and Connor rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet, waving it above my head, "On me. Now, get your hockey ass movin' and let's go."

Fifteen minutes later we were seated in the new resaurant. It was supposed to be fifties themed, with plush, red leather coaches, black and white tiled floors, and pictures of motorcycles and old cars on the walls. But really, the leather bench was uncomfortable to sit on and the picture of John Travolta from Grease looking down at me was a bit unnerving.

Everything on the menu had titles that were supposed to be retro, and oldies. The shakes were even catergorized under 'Shakin' Shakes.' I glared at Connor, but he was too busy looking at the menu and laughing at all the names. And nothing even looked good.

"You're shit at picking places to eat," I snapped, folding the menu shut and placing it on the sparkling table.

"You're ravishing company," Connor complimented, a cheeky grin on his face. He looked at me from over his menu, and fluttered his eyelashes, making me laugh at him, "but I mean.. it's not that bad. You're just not giving it a chance."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the leather, "It's horrible. The seat's poking my butt."

"I'm telling you," Con started, waving his hands for emphasis, and almost slamming into a waitress. He flushed and brought his arm back in, "it's because you have the hockey player butt!"

Every since Con had read the article about hockey players having better butts, he hadn't let it go. He brought it up all the time, and had even sent me the link to the page he read it on. (I was embarrassed to admit that I did spend a good fifteen minutes reading everything that was on the page).

"I hate you."

"Love you too," he gave me a kissy face and this time I blushed when I caught a waitress smiling at us. Oh God, "Kelly's on her way, so get to it. Tell me all about how you got a nose that's worse than an elephants."

Leaning against the table, I whacked him in the side of the head. Satisfied, I dropped back down on my side and explained the story, taking breaks when Connor busted out laughing. He made a lot of jokes - mostly about my nose - and then congratulated Elle. I rolled my eyes more times than I could count and he eventually just started chewing on his thumb to keep his laughter controlled.

"And then," I said, feeling anger start to bubble up in my chest again, "and then, she had the nerve to offer to give me lessons on what I'm messing up on! She had the nerve to offer me fucking hockey lessons!"

I had to admit, I did sound a bit cocky saying that. But it baffled me how Elle had the nerve to offer me lessons. I had gone my whole life playing hockey, and now, I was trying out for the Marlies. And Elle - she just sat on the bleachers at practice and called out the mistakes she saw. Who was she to honestly offer me practice?

Connor furrowed his eyebrows, "Well, did you accept it?"

I wasn't able to stop myself from snorting at his question, "No, dumbass. I just drove away." Saying it outloud made me realize how rude my action had been, but I was furious at the time.

Connor threw his hands in the air - coming inches away from slapping a plate a waitress was holding. The same waitress he had almost slapped.

"We're getting our food spit in," I commented, but Con ignored me.

"Firstly, you dumbass, she's hot. Like extremely hot. So you'd be an idiot to say no to spending extra time with her," Connor rambled, fist clenched to keep from almost hitting another innocent bystander, "secondly, her dad's the coach and she's been in newspapers. She might not play for a team like you, but she obviously knows some stuff!"

Connor was right: Elle was an extremely fit girl. But he didn't know her personality. He didn't know how insufferable or annoying she could be. On the outside, she was a gem and I could see why any guy would want to spend time with her. But after a half-hour of being with her, it'd make you completely regret your decision.

But he was right about one thing. Elle had been in newspapers and her dad was the couch. She grew up in a hockey family, so it was only natural that she knew a thing or two. Before I could comment on that, the door swung open and I leaned forward, expecting Kelly.

But instead a slim, blonde-haired girl walked in. She was in a loose-fighting jersey and leggings, and, even from my seat, I could see her sharp, crystal eyes. I ducked down immediately, and pulled my menu over my face.

"No, no, no.." I mumbled, peeking through the top to see Elle walking towards my table.