S C O T T

I rushed to practice that morning.

I woke up late that morning, remembering I had practice when my alarm went off late. I quickly shoved everything into my bag, and quickly hoped in a shower. When I went to grab my practice jersey out of my bag, it wasn't in there. I scoured the apartment up and down, and even searched through Connor's drawers. But it was nowhere.

And then I remembered that Elle still had it from the practice last week.

I rushed quickly through the halls of the rink, trying to get there quickly and praying Elle would be there. Coach Monroe had said we had to wear our practice jersey for every single practice; and if I showed up without mine, that would look terrible.

I pushed the door open to the rink and walked in, noticing that barely anyone was there yet. I had grown to remember the entire arena like the back of my hand from the amount of times I had been in and out.

I threw my bag onto the bench and looked around for Elle. Coach Monroe was sitting on the other side, looking through a clipboard. A couple of the guys were sitting on the benches, and some were even getting ready for practice. I cursed and bit my lip, nervous that Elle had decided to skip coming to this one practice.

I turned and grinned when I saw her talking to one of the players I didn't recognize. She looked kind of annoyed, with one hip on her hand and a scowl on her face. I had noticed that a lot of the players tried to flirt with them - and she turned down every single one.

I walked over slowly, trying to hear what they were saying. I paused on the bench below them and scratched the back of my neck, waiting to see if Elle would notice me. But she didn't.

The lad was attempting to flirt with her. He was asking her why she kept coming to practices and he said she was distracting. (Of course she was - she shouted during practice and made me bust my nose. But I kept that comment to myself).

Elle glared at him, her light eyes narrowed and she sighed, clearly not interested in the conversation. Every time she made a move to walk away from him, or try to end the conversation, he held out his hand to stop her or striked up a completely new topic. I felt bad for Elle; even if she was typically obnoxious and rude, she didn't deserve to endure the bloke's terrible flirting.

"Hey - hey. That's really interesting," I said, putting my hand on the guy's shoulder. I stepped up onto the bleacher and pulled him lightly towards me, "but I have to talk to Elle about something important, so if you don't mind."

He glared at me, "No, man. Hold up - "

"Sweet," I grinned, putting my hand on Elle's shoulder. She grinned back at me and I steered her away from the guy. I looked back over my shoulder and winked at him, "thanks for being so understanding, bud."

I led Elle towards the other side of the bleachers, away from the other players and her dad. No one knew about the practices (we had two total, so far) I had with Elle, and I intended to keep it that way. I didn't want anyone to see her giving me my practice jersey - especially Coach Monroe. I didn't even know what he would say.

Elle smirked at me, "You know, if you keep being an ass to everyone, you're not gonna make a lot of friends."

I leaned back on my heels and smirked at her, "But you're my friend, eh?"

"Well," Elle said, smirk still prominent as she dragged out the word. I rolled my eyes and she laughed, bumping her shoulders with me. She shook her head and ran a hand through her light hair, "but really, why'd you drag me over here?"

"Oh - yeah," I said and ran a hand through my wavy, still-wet hair, "can I have my jersey back? I forgot to get it back from you last practice."

Elle had a thing about taking my jersey every practice. Whilst she had me running a mad amount of laps, she would sneak into my practice bag, pull out my jersey, and wear it all practice. I didn't really mind; honestly, it didn't look that bad on her. And it was kind of funny, considering how she had to tie half the shirt to make it not look so ridiculous.

"Oh shit. My bad," Elle cursed, walking to her bag and snatching the jersey out. She tossed it to me and I thanked her, "good thing my dad didn't see that. He'd go on a murder rampage, wondering why I had someone's jersey."

I looked over at Coach Monroe. He was sitting on the bench, glasses perched on his nose as she quietly flipped through papers. His lips were drawn back into a frown and his light hair kept falling forward. The thought of him going on a murder rampage on the team made me laugh; he didn't look like the crazy type of dad.

Then again, he had played hockey for a good amount of his life and it wouldn't be surprising if he could fight.

"Right," I said, ducking away before Coach caught me staring at him, "remind me to stay away from your dad if he ever gets mad, yeah?"

Elle laughed and sat down, motioning me to sit next to her. I sat and leaned back against the bench below me. It was extremely cold, but I didn't mind. I knew the second we began I'd be complaining about how fucking hot it would be.

"Practice tonight," Elle said, making me shoot up, eyes wide. "I was thinking around nine, so you have time to go home and take a shower and all that?"

"No."

I didn't mind practicing with Elle. She had proved to have a funny and nice side; someone who was just good to hang-out with. But she was crazy if she thought I'd have two pratices in one day, and especially one at night. One practice a day was enough to make me want to sleep for weeks one end. Two would just be murder.

"Yes," Elle shot back, quirking one eyebrow in a challenging way. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me, "that way tonight, we can work on whatever you messed up on in this practice."

"Elle, I have practice again tomorrow," I dead-panned, "I need tonight to rest up and be ready."

"You'll be fine."

I scowled at her, remembering how easily she was able to get on my nerves sometimes. I liked Elle when she was joking and funny, and was just easy to get along with. But when she was stubborn and so goddamn persistant - that's when I didn't like her. That's when I wanted to get her deported from the country.

"Listen, love. I'm fine," I said, a cocky smile coming onto my lips. Elle's glare hardened and I sighed, throwing up my hands, "I'll have another practice tonight if Hell freezes over."

Elle didn't miss a beat and she shot back my cocky smile and said, "I can arrange that."

Jesus fucking Christ, I thought angrily, taking a deep breath as to not snap at her. Before I could say anything, Coach Monroe stood up and blew his whistle, making me divert my attention from Elle towards him.

"I want everyone ready in five!" he shouted, furrowing his eyebrows as a bunch of the other guys started piling in, "We're starting with or without everyone!"

I turned towards Elle, shooting her one last glare before snatching up my bag and making my way towards the changing rooms. There was no way in Hell - frozen or not - that I would be practicing again with her tonight.

"No," Connor pouted, looking between Kelly and I from his position in between us on the coach. He crossed his arms and narrowed his light brown eyes, "Scott, shut up. We're not watching Goon for the five-hundrenth time. And Kelly, we're not watching The Other Woman - no chick flicks. We're watching 21 Jump Street. Accept it."

Kelly, Connor, and I had decided to have a movie night, which proved to be a mistake. Every suggestion Kelly and I gave, Connor declined and insisted we watch whatever movie he wanted. Since it was his idea for movie night, he thought he got the right to pick the movie. But really, Con just liked any movie that Jonah Hill was in. And I didn't mind.

But after watching 21 Jump Street at least five times this month, I was a bit sick of it.

"Fine," Kelly sighed, leaning back into the couch, "but you're paying for pizza."

"That's not fair!" Connor complained, throwing his arms up in protest. He slapped a hand against his forehead, "I think Scott should pay for pizza. I mean, he's the one who's about to have a future hockey career."

"Fuck off, cheap scate," I shot back, grinning at my best friend, "if we watch your movie, you pay. Or I'll just take your wallet. Either way, you're paying."

Connor frowned but reluctantly clicked 'play' on the DVD player. He fell back into the space between Kelly and I, "This is anarchy - this is mutany! My own best friends turning against me. How ironic! How evil."

"Shut up and watch the movie," Kelly laughed.

The next couple hours were spent watching movies and glaring at Kelly and Connor as they cuddled together. I just frowned and cuddled with my pillow, playing Angry Birds and texting my cousins as I waited for the night to be over. Kelly and Connor were too fucking cute and it made me want to sit between them. (I might've been a bit jealous.)

Rolling over, I grabbed a pillow and slapped the side of Connor's head with it. He frowned, saying how he already got enough torment tonight by having to pay for the pizza. I rolled my eyes and fell back on the couch, resuming my game of Pool - only to see that the person I was playing with left.

I groaned and slid off the couch, prepared to go for a run - anything to get out for a couple of hours. Before I could grab my shoes, someone knocked on the door, making all of us stop. The pizza had already been delivered, and everyone Connor and I knew called before they came over. I quirked an eyebrow at Con and he shrugged.

"Answer it," he said, untangling his arm from Kelly's shoulders, "maybe it's the pizza guy back with my money."

I rolled my eyes and walked to the door slowly. I unlocked it and yawned, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. I glared at whoever was on the other side, because, truly, I didn't have the energy to even move. Practice had drained me and left my body aching.

"What?" I snapped, and then really looked at the person. Light hair in loose waves, bright eyes and a small smile on her face. My face morphed into shock as I stared at her, not completely comprehending what I was seeing, "Elle?"

What the actual fuck?