S C O T T

I woke up to a terrible smell.

Sighing, I kept my eyes closed and attempted to pull away from whatever the smell was. But I couldn't move. I felt someone's body on top of my legs, and behind me, my head was pressing into someone's stomach. I groaned quietly and opened my eyes slowly, squinting as the sudden light from the apartment damn near blinded me.

I yelped when I saw a foot directly under my chin. I wrinkled my nose and attempted to squirm away, which didn't turn out well at all.

The blanket got tangled around me as I wiggled, trying to get past the person who was behind me and away from Connor's smelly feet. Before I knew it, I was on the edge of the couch and shouted as the blankets rolled off, taking me with them. My butt slammed against the floor and I fell backwards, head landing on the carpet below me.

I groaned loudly again, propping myself up slowly on my elbows. Kelly was still asleep and so was Elle, despite the fact that I'm sure my head bumped into her stomach a good amount of times. Connor mumbled something and pushed the blanket off, rolling over and glaring at me.

"Why the fuck are you on the floor?" Connor snapped sleepily, running one hand through his messed up hair, "And why the hell can't you sleep quietly?"

I narrowed my eyes at my best mate, "I'm sorry you're disgusting foot was close to my face!"

Before I could say anything, Kelly leaned up, snatched the pillow behind Connor, and attempted to chuck it at me. I grinned and ducked, snatching the pillow and throwing it back at her. Kelly groaned when it landed on her and I smirked, watching as she just dug deeper under the covers to avoid moving it.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly and laid back down, not having the inclination to go back on the couch for extra sleep. After Connor finished his story last night - I couldn't even recall what it was about - we all ended up passing out on the couch. Elle had insisted that she would go home, but she fell asleep before any of us did.

I yawned and rolled over, pulling my phone from my pocket. I had a missed call from my mom and I made a mental note to call her back later. Leaning back, I sighed and locked my phone, taking a quick peep at the time. Noon.

Noon. One hour before practice.

"Shit!" I cursed, standing up quickly. I stumbled and kicked the blanket off me, looking around for my bag. I cursed again and ran a hand through my hair, tugging on it, "Elle! Wake up!"

Elle groggily sat up, looking at me with an annoyed, tired expression. She furrowed her eyebrows and glared, but I didn't have time to notice anything as I stumbled around tiredly, pulling a pair of gray sweats from the laundry basket and tugging them on.

Connor cursed and stood up, "I'm going to bed. C'mon, Kelly."

Picking Kelly up, Connor walked into his room, bumping my shoulder in the process. I laughed and riffled through the laundry basket in search of my practice jersey. I tossed clothes over my shoulders and tipped the basket to the side, looking for it. I knew Connor would kill me when he saw the mess - he was a bit of a clean freak - but I didn't have time to care.

Angrily, I flipped the basket over onto the floor, watching the clothes spill out over the sides. I ran a hand through my hair again and bit my lip, looking around the room for the jersey. Things just seemed to be going to utter shit and I was on the verge of freaking out.

"Looking for this?" Elle asked, making me spin around and grin when she held my jersey in her hand.

I pulled my t-shirt off my head and grabbed a fresh one from the laundry basket. Elle coughed and turned her head, making me smirk and pull my jersey on over it. I rubbed a hand across my eyes and sat down, grabbing a pair of shoes from my hockey bag and slipping them on. I unzipped my bag and went through everything quickly.

"You dad is going to murder me," I said nervously, fingers slipping with the shoe strings, "he's probably worried himself to death and then you'll say you crashed here and then your dad's gonna cut my balls off with my own skates - "

"Scott," Elle started, but I wasn't done.

"And I'm sorry for last night," I continued, wringing my hands together nervously, "I was a complete dick and I had no right to jump to conclusions and snap at you, especially when you were trying to do a nice thing. I know it doesn't make up for it but - I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath and watched Elle, waiting to see what she would do. Some part of me thought she might laugh and just brush it off, or have something sarcastic to say, like she usually did. But instead, Elle just smiled at me. And it was a genuine smile that made me furrow my eyebrows and wonder what she was thinking.

"Calm down," she said gently, "I'll tell my dad I crashed at a friend's house and he won't suspect anything. Just hurry up and show up to practice and act normal. I promise your balls will be intact by the end of practice."

I swallowed and nodded, grateful that, for once, Elle was calming, "All right, thank you. And thanks for bringing back my jersey last night."

"No problem. It smelled like shit and I didn't want it contaminating anything," Elle smirked and I laughed, cheeks flushing bright red, "you blush so much. It's adorable."

At her sentence, my cheeks only darkened profoundly, making me duck my head to try and hide it from Elle. I cleared my throat and awkwardly crawled over to my bag, shoving a few things in and zipping it closed. I stood up and groaned, pulling the bag up with me. I had been in an awful sleeping positions last night, and mixed with practice the day before, my bones just ached like hell.

I grabbed my keys and looked at Elle, who still had a slight smirk on her lips. Rolling my eyes, I nodded to the door and she reluctantly stood up, kicking all the blankets off of her. (I noticed she had more blankets than anyone else did).

As Elle pushed the blankets away from herself, I took that moment to really notice her. Elle's blonde hair was wavy, and there were bags under her light-colored eyes. But aside from looking exhausted, she still looked good. I didn't think Elle really could look bad, even when she was smirking at me, face filled with amusement.

"Right," I muttered, scratching the back of my neck and opening the door, "I guess I'll see you at practice, eh?"

Elle laughed and shook her head, "Probably not. My dad's going to be furious I didn't call him, and by the time I get home, he'll be at practice. If I show, I'll be the one who ends up dead."

"Good luck then," and it was awkward and sudden, but I wrapped my arms around Elle and pulled her in for a hug.

"Wilson!" Coach Monroe shouted, making me completely stop, "My office, please!"

It was towards the end of practice, and we were all on the ice just messing around now. But I turned, grip on my stick loosening. Coach Monroe nodded at me and turned in the other direction, going into his office.

My heart pounded in my chest as I skated off the ice, sloppily dropping down onto a bleacher. My stick fell from my hand and I pulled my helmet off, spitting out my mouth-piece. I ducked my head down and ran my hands down my face, my heart practically slamming against my ribcage. My stomach felt hollow with nervousness and I took a deep breath, slowly untying my skates and pulling on shoes.

Coach had been in a relatively bad mood all day - probably about Elle. I heard him on the phone earlier, and after that, he had seemed a bit better. But there was only one plausable explanation as to why he would want he in his office: he had found out Elle crashed at my house the night before and was now preparing to cut my balls off.

I groaned and stood up, slowly making my way towards his office. My legs felt like lead and part of me wanted to turn the complete opposite way and bolt back to the apartment. But I couldn't. I sighed and took long-legged steps, stopping in front of the door to his office. I could hear him typing - probably on the computer - and slowly pushed the door open.

"Take a seat," Coach Monroe said, not bothering to lift his head from his computer.

I nodded and dropped down into the seat in front of his desk. I leaned forward nervously and waited for him to say something, but nothing.

As the minutes ticked on, my anxiety grew. I kept wiping my sweaty palms on my hands in nervousness and I chewed on my lip, eyeing Coach Monroe nervously. He seemed completely at ease, typing away on his computer. I couldn't help but wonder what he was so intently writing. (My eulogy, probably).

He shut the lid of his laptop and looked at me, light eyes squinting, "D'you know why I called you in here, Scott?"

To murder me because your daughter slept at my house, I thought, but instead shook my head and raised an eyebrow in curiousity, "I'm not sure why."

Coach Monroe just nodded and looked through down at his desk. Everything looked the same as when I had first been in there. Papers were stacked neatly to the side, and a picture of Elle stood in front of the desk, her green eyes staring right at me and intensifying my nerves. I wanted to lean forward and flip the picture around, but I didn't think that would sit well with her dad.

Coach Monroe pulled a paper off the top of the stack and went through it, writing something on it that I couldn't see. I could practically hear the tick of the clock, and with every passing second, my nerves continued to intensifty. What if he had called me in to tell me there was no possible way I would make the team? Or that he'd have to murder me for spending so much time with his daughter? A thousand plausable - and not plausable - explanations ran through my mind.

Monroe looked up at me, a somber expression on his face and fuck. In that second, every terrible scenario ran through my mind, making the consitant tapping of my fingers on the arm of the chair stop. I could've swore my heart stopped as he stared at me, eyes similar to his daughter's.

"Scott," he said slowly, and then - what the hell? His lips broke into a wide smile and he slammed a hand down on the desk, "you've been improving brilliantly! I don't know what's happened, but it seems as if every practice you come with a new surprise and I'm damn impressed!"

All my worries evaporated in that second and I sighed under my breath, falling back against the seat. My heart stopped hammering in my chest and I felt like I could breathe again. But when I processed Coach's words, a huge smile broke out onto my face because he had called me in to tell me he was impresssed with me. And that was the biggest accomplishment.

Of course, he did say I was improving brilliantly, and I owed some (or a lot) of that to Elle.

"Wow - I, er. Thank you so much," I grinned at him, relief flooding my veins.

Coach Monroe gave me a similar grin back, "No problem, Scott. Now go - practice is almost over and I don't want to waste your time."

I stood up, stumbling over the legs of the chair. I laughed and shook my head, cheeks lightly stained red, "It wasn't a waste, Coach! Thanks so much!"

I practically skipped out of the office and made my way to the rink. Connor had agreed to pick me up after practice, and all I wanted to do was get in the car and tell him what Coach Monroe had said. I grinned to myself and stopped.

All the guy's were in a loose circle and I could hear someone telling a story, their voice slightly high-pitched. I scratched the back of my neck and stood on my tip-toes, catching the messy brown hair, honey colored eyes and wide smile.

Fucking Connor.