S C O T T

"Wait. So you're going to practice," Connor said slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he processed what I told him, "on your off day. With a girl that you complain about everyday, even though we both just know you're hot and bothered. Correct?"

"Corre - wait. N-no," I snapped, face flushing bright red, "firstly, dickhead, I complain about Elle because she can be annoying, not because I'm hot and bothered."

"Yeah, yeah," Con waved his hand, "whatever helps you sleep at night." I opened my mouth to protest, but he grinned and cut me off, "Aside from your hot and botheredness - or lack of - can you explain why you're practicing with her? I'm a bit lost, bud."

I groaned and rubbed a hand down my face, ignoring the fact that I was still bright red. I shook my head and quickly explained everything to Connor: that I was practicing with Elle because she offered me help with a few things that I needed help with. Connor laughed and poked my cheeks, making my slap his hands away in annoyance.

"I don't want to go," I whined, dropping my hockey bag. I threw myself onto the couch and propped my feet up on the coffee table.

Connor rolled his eyes, "Man up, Wilson," he said, kicking my feet off the table. Connor dropped down onto the floor and rolled up his sleeves, "you definitely seem like you need a pep talk - "

"I don't need a pep talk - "

" - and since I'm your best friend, that means I'll give you one," Connor finished, making me scoff and roll my eyes. But, reluctantly, I fell back into the couch and motioned for him to go, "you're a great guy, Scott. Don't be nervous, all right? So what if Elle's better than you? You have a lot of good qualities."

Shaking my head, I shot Connor a dirty look, "That's the shittiest pep talk I ever heard in my life."

But Connor didn't seem to notice, because he shot up off the couch and grabbed my arm, attempting to pull me from the couch, "C'mon, up and at 'em tiger! Go to practice!"

I groaned and grabbed my bag, doing a quick check to make sure I had everything. I bid Connor goodbye (and ignored all his stupid comments relating towards Elle), and slipped out the front door.

I didn't like to admit it, but as I drove over, I couldn't deny how nervous I was.

All through my years of playing hockey, I had never needed extra practice or help. My coaches had always been surprised with my skill level, and I had gotten used to being a starter and staying in most of the game. I had never really had someone critique me on everything and anything like Elle did. And truthfully, it made me extremely nervous.

I bit my lip and pulled into the park where Elle had instructed me to meet here. It was just about to be eleven-thirty - the exact time we were designated to meet. It was extremely early, but Elle had insisted that she didn't want to be at the park all day.

Groaning under my breath, I slipped out the door and grabbed my bag. I shouldered my bag and walked down the pavement, my sneakers slapping against the ground. There was barely anybody around, except for a few kids and parents lingering around. I kept my head down and made my way towards the rink. It wasn't ice, but it was close enough.

I dropped my bag onto the bench out-front of the rink and sat down next to it. I didn't see Elle's blonde head anywhere, and I didn't know what kind of car she drove to look out for her. Sighing, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the edge of the bench. I was absolutely exhausted, considering my nerves had kept me up half the night.

"Lazy!" a familiar voice called, making my head snap up. Elle smirked at me and rolled her eyes, "I can't believe you're seriously taking a nap."

I grimaced and push myself up, "'M not. I was waiting for you, actually."

"No you weren't," Elle snapped back immediately. I sighed and brought my fingers up to my temples, trying to prevent a headache, "because I was standing by the track waiting for you."

I frowned, "Why would you be at the track?"

"Why would you be here?" Elle shot back, but there was a small smile playing on her lips. I pushed myself up, grabbed my stuff, and slowly made my way towards here, "You can't seriously start practicing until you warm up, Scott. Do you want to pull something and spend the rest of your life watching the hockey games and wishing you listened to me?"

I walk behind Elle, rolling my eyes at what she said. I obviously knew that you had to warm up before practice, but it was just logical to meet at the hockey rink - since we were praciting hockey.

"Doubt that's gonna happen," I grumbled, already wishing for practice to be over.

Elle stopped next to the track - a huge circle. The pavement had been worn down over years, and now it looked like a bit of a safety hazard for anyone who attempted to run the entire thing. There was a few small holes and a shitload of bumps on it. I groaned and dropped down onto the ground, letting my head fall against my knees.

Elle stood in front of me, hand on her hips, lips drawn back. She looked so serious and awake and it just reminded me of how absolutely tired I was. Instead of sitting down next to me - or explaining how practice was gonna go - she frowned and shook her head.

"You need a positive attitude," she said, and of course she was positive. Her ego hadn't been dented. She didn't need to call someone at midnight and ask for help so she could make a team, "and sarcasm doesn't make for positvity. Two laps."

My head shot up at that, eyes locking with her light-colored ones. Two laps wasn't a big deal; not at all. At practice we did twenty, plus the excersises throughout the day. But she wanted me to do extra laps because I was sarcastic. At that point, I officially decided that Elle Monroe was one-hundred percent mad.

And a little more annoying than I originally thought.

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest, "No way. I mean, come on, Elle. That's ridiculous."

"You asked me for help," she said, lips drawing down into a slight pout that made me scoff, "so you're going to follow the rules, all right? I'm going to help you make the team but you at least have to trust me. A little trust is all I'm asking for."

I grunted and stood up, eyeing the track with distaste. I really didn't have a problem running; I always did it in the mornings, and always did it at practice. But running this early, and because of the fact that I had been sarcastic, made me like it even less.

"You're insufferable," I muttered, cracking my fingers as I slowly walked over.

"Eh?" Elle called, and I turned around to see her smirking at me, "Four laps it is!"

I turned around, prepared to argue that I wasn't doing four laps. But Elle stood back up, and I saw my Marlies practice jersey on her. I smiled slightly and turned back, getting into position.

Four hours later and I officially decided that Elle was a genuis when it came to torture methods.

Collapsing on the grass next to the track, I heaved a sigh and laid my head back. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing, which didn't work well at all. Sweat dripped down my temples and my skin felt like it was on fire. And Elle stood next to me - laughing and saying that I had done good.

"I hate you," I groaned, running a hand through my sweaty hair.

Elle wanted to practice one thing at a time. The first thing she had chosen - the one she deemed most important - was stick handling. Apparently at times, my grip on my hockey stick was too lose, which would make it easy for another player to 'accidentally' slap it out of my grasp. I understood that; I agreed.

Everything else Elle said, I disagreed with.

Elle had me hold my stick and run around the track, acting like I was in the middle of a game. I was fine with that, until she decided to randomly pop out and slap my stick with hers to test if I was properly holding on tightly. And damn - she slapped it like she was a fucking lunatic.

Every time the stick wavered, or even fell from my grip, Elle made me do an extra lap. She thought that the more laps I did, the more the idea of holding tightly would stick into my head. That proved false, because by the end, after lap after lap, my grip on the stick loosened from exhaustion until the stick was practically falling out from between my fingers.

Deciding that we were both exhausted (I didn't understand why Elle was tired - all she did was order me to run), we decided to end practice early. Plus, as Elle said, "It's the first practice, and we don't want to push it." (She was twenty laps past 'pushed.')

I groaned and rolled my over, pulling my vibrating phone out of my back pocket. A new text flashed across the screen and I wasn't surprised to see it was Connor.

Connor:

how was practice, eh eh eh? ;;;))

I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Peeking up, I saw a Tim Hortons across the street. I swiped my tongue over my lips at the same time my stomach growled; I hadn't eaten since the morning and I was absolutely exhausted. Plus, a double chocolate-chip muffin sounded great.

I pushed myself up and groaned again. My thighs felt like they were on fire, and the idea of carrying my hockey bag was absolute torture. Mustering up all the strength I had, I lazily swung my bag onto my shoulder and tried to keep my legs from buckling.

Elle shot me a confused look, one eyebrow arched. I remebered how cool she had been when she was at dinner with Connor, Kelly, and I. It had been fun to spend time with her. So I didn't really hesitate when I spoke next.

"I'm going to Tim Hortons, wanna come?"

Elle bit her lip, and for a second I thought she was about to say no. My face flushed and I ducked my head down, scratching the back of my neck as I waited on her answer. It seemed like forever, before she finally said a simple, "Sure." I grinned and nodded, leading the way across the street.

I stopped out-front the door, hand on the cool handle. I looked over at Elle and noticed she was still wearing my baggy jersey, the sleeves rolled up and back tied so it fit her better. It was still big on her, and the neck kept falling down and showing the top bit of her black t-shirt. I laughed and Elle rolled her eyes.

"Comfy?" I mused, holding the door open for Elle.

She grinned and nodded, slipping in, "You can wear this when I deem you worthy," she threw her head back in laughter, making me laugh, too.