I have contemplated murder five times today in total, and only three of those instances were for Tristan.

Honestly, after the last couple of very trying days, that's progress. Of course, the other two were toward Hunter, and both were because he tried stopping me from killing Tristan. Caleb offered to help me get past the old fart, but Tyler was all too willing to help his co-captain contain me, and I don't like those odds. Caleb is a lover, not a fighter, and even at my angriest I can't take on both Tyler and Hunter.

That leaves Tristan to smirk and gloat and taunt me with his stupid fucking face and his worshipping freshmen and his inability to leave me the hell alone. His goddamn voice mocks me even in my own head, calling me weak or emotional or unfit for the job. Even after three months together doing preseason workouts with the other guys, he still has yet to accept me and my role on the team, and I have yet to successfully kill him. Overall, its been a shitty few weeks.

"You're staring," Will mutters under his breath.

My eyes narrow but don't look away from Tristan, who is standing down by the ice and laughing with two freshmen who are trying out for the first time. Honestly, they probably won't make the team, but Tristan doesn't seem to care. He just wants to build a posse up as quick as possible, just to rub it in my face that he has followers and I don't. "I'm not staring. I'm glaring, There's a difference."

"Okay well if he catches you glaring, he's not going to care too much if its out of admiration or animosity. Don't give him any ammunition, Ali."

I tear my gaze away from Tristan and the imaginary visual of his nose spouting blood to instead glare at Will. "I don't give a shit what he thinks."

Will rolls his eyes. "Sure you don't. Either way, just stop. You're being creepy."

My whole face flushes red with an intense anger. Just as I open my mouth to snark back at my best friend, another of our group plops down on the bleacher seat directly behind us. "So question. Who's hotter: new blood or Gabriel?" Caleb asks. 

Gabriel is a junior just like Caleb. He was the JV captain last year and worked hard to improve over the summer. He has a good chance of making varsity this year because of it. He's also the resident pretty boy, much to everyone's amusement. To be honest, Gabe works the angle pretty well, and his girlfriend of four months certainly isn't complaining.

"Gabe," I say at the exact second Will says "Tristan". The traitor doesn't even refer to him as new blood, like Caleb and I do. I call him new blood to remind him that he's still new and in no way permanent, while Caleb does it just to appease me. At my invigorated glare, Will quickly says, "What? It's true! You can hate him and still call him hot."

A scowl twists my face. No, I can't.

Caleb snorts. "Look, we all know pretty boy is a looker. But Tyler is convinced Ali is so attracted to him that her body cannot handle the hormones and she's channeling her feelings into anger to deal with it." I swear something pops in my hand I clench my fists so tightly, and Caleb pats my knee sympathetically. "I know, I know, he's crazy. It's his relationship with Paige. He's seeing fucking butterflies everywhere, I swear." Standing swiftly, Caleb makes his way down the bleachers toward the bottom row where Tyler and Hunter are discussing possible lineups yet again. I enjoy strategizing over potential rosters as much as the next guy does, but I've grown tired of hearing how perfectly Tristan fits into the hole left by our best senior, who graduated last year. "Anyway, I'll go tell him he's wrong and that you want to shove your foot up his ass."

"Thanks," I grumble, still pissed off but feeling marginally better after the short talk with Caleb. Maybe he could give me rides home after practice instead of Hunter. Caleb is far more amusing and far less infuriating in my opinion. "At least he gets it."

Will makes a sound of disbelief. "Hey, I get it! I just don't lie to myself about being attracted to him. Tristan is both our types, and you know it."

"Why don't you go spend time with him then?" I snap. "Take him to the supply closet so I don't have to look at his ugly face anymore."

He rolls his eyes. "Okay first off, you're being dramatic. Second, hell no. And third, if you don't want to look at him, stop staring."

At that moment, Hunter stands from his spot and calls in a loud, echoing voice, "Alright everyone, head down to the ice! We start in two minutes."

Despite the relief I feel knowing practice will start in just 120 seconds, I still groan as I stand. I love every ugly, grueling moment of hockey practice, but ever since season officially started earlier this week and we switched from strength and conditioning to actual practice, Tristan has worked even harder to make my life hell. In the weight room, we divided into partners and groups to get the workouts done so I was able to get some separation, and I am so conditioned he wouldn't dare go after me during runs, especially not when he can't even catch his breath half the time.

But practice, with all the lines and separate drills, is the perfect place for him to drop his snide remarks and then skate away with an innocent smile plastered on his face. And unfortunately, I am not always around my friends, who keep me from doing the worst damage to people.

"It's Friday," Will says, almost as if he is reading my mind and can feel my unease. He knows more than almost anyone how I don't like my impulse and short temper, but I can't exactly help it. "End of the month. Just two hours and then we can go grab milkshakes, okay?"

"Okay," I grumble, shouldering my bag and making my way down the steps quickly. I've run countless numbers of stadium laps in these stands until my legs shook even without moving, and the movement is effortless now as a result. Will trails after me, making almost no sound as he too breezes through the many dozens of steps.

We reach the ground just as the rest of the team begins to gather around the entrance to the ice. Hunter has already skated out to the center, joining Coach Mac and Tig. He says something to the two, receiving a nod in response, before turning back around and coming closer to the wall.

I quickly pull on my skates and wave to him. I just saw him earlier, but he waves back and alters his path so he ends up just in front of Will and me. He leans against the wall, looking down at us as we tie the laces and prepare to start practice. "Hey."

"Hey." I stand, grabbing my gloves, helmet, and stick and slipping onto the ice to stand beside him. "Are you coming with us after to get shakes?"

Hunter laughs, but the sound is more mocking than amused. "As long as you don't break the deal. It would be just like you to fuck it up just before you get the reward."

I glare up at him, preparing to mouth off and wipe the smug smirk off his face, but Will comes to my defense before I have to. "I have faith in her." He sounds pretty sure of that, actually, and knowing my track record I wouldn't have suggested that kind of confidence, even if it is appreciated. "Besides, that's what we're here for."

"I have better things to do than babysit impulsive dickheads," Hunter grumbles, but my ruffled feathers have smoothed over, and I grin cheekily up at him.

"You love me," I declare, tossing my arm around him as best I can, but Hunter is all broad shoulders and large muscles, and even my long arm isn't quite long enough to reach up and over his shoulder the way I want it to. "Don't act like you don't."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't push me off. Tyler and Caleb join the three of us, offering a fist bump to each of us. Caleb ruffles Will's hair and pulls him into a hug in the same motion. My best friend blushes and tries to hide it with a frustrated scowl as he bats away Caleb's hands. Luckily for Will, he has his hair in short sponge twists, which are rather easy to manage during hockey season and which Caleb's playful touch doesn't mess up. "Fuck off, Caleb."

Caleb laughs and smacks a loud kiss to Will's head, ignoring Tyler's disgruntled stop it. "Sorry, I forgot how much work your hair takes."

"It doesn't take a lot of work," Will snaps in response to Caleb's teasing. "I just don't want you to mess with it." His cheeks turn an even brighter pink as he pulls back from Caleb and puts me in between them. Instead of being offended, Caleb just smiles with amusement over at him.

Stealing his attention from Will, I make a only partially true complaint: "Why didn't you give me a kiss when you saw me?"

Caleb laughs yet again. "Sorry Bug, didn't mean to make you feel left out." He kisses my head too and gives me one of his famous, massive hugs that can turn any frown upside down in a matter of seconds. "How was your day? Didn't beat anyone up, did we?"

"Nope." I grin up at him. "So you owe me a milkshake."

"We'll see about that. There's still two hours left and plenty of potential targets."

"Don't encourage her behavior," Hunter says offhandedly as he observes the slackers still gathering on the ice or getting their stuff together. "If I have to mop up blood today, I'm blaming you."

"You guys really have no trust in me whatsoever." Maybe it should bother me. It probably would, if I weren't one suspension away from Coach Mac benching me for an entire month. Even after nearing the six month anniversary of me starting anger management classes, my temper still gets me in trouble far too often.

Tyler snorts. "Can you blame them?" Tyler, who has always felt more like a brother than a friend and who has extended the protectiveness he has towards Will over me as well, never sugarcoats a damn thing, but he also doesn't say unnecessarily cruel or frustrating things just because like Hunter does on occasion. "I can name three people you'd be down to fight right now, and two are in the rink at this moment."

Tristan is a given, but who else?

"Who?" I scoff.

"Tristan and Hunter."

The latter has the nerve to laugh.

I scowl. "Yeah? Well you can add yourself to that list with your crazy conspiracy theory Caleb told me about." Tyler actually chuckles at that sentence. "Oh I'm glad you think that's funny because if one of his mutts heard and ran to tell him, I'll fucking filet you, Macintosh."

"You're so dramatic," Tyler knocks my shoulder with his own with just enough force to move me a few inches. "No one heard."

"You better hope not," I mumble, but there is less anger in it than I wanted. Even though anger comes so easily to me, its hard for me to stay mad at my friends for long. With them, the emotion is always short-lived, almost as if it knows I won't last long without them.

"I hope someone did hear," Caleb says with another of his grins. "Then I won't need to buy you that shake."

I stick my tongue out at him instead of coming up with something else to say, and at that moment Coach Mac waves down Hunter and gestures toward his wrist.

Hunter nods, then calls out in his loud, booming captain voice, "Alright everyone, line up for laps!"

Seeing as we do this part every day as a warm-up, the laps and dynamic go smoothly, as do the shuttle lines to get our sticks involved. In fact, I can almost let myself believe the entire practice will be easy and fun, just like they used to be before Tristan came, but with my luck that won't last long. All I can hope for is that I can hold myself together just long enough so I can earn that milkshake for going a whole month without getting into any physical altercations with anyone. To most people, a month wouldn't seem like much, but seeing as it will be the third one in a row, its a damn miracle.

Because this is technically the first week of try-outs (the less intimidating of the two weeks, seeing as next week is actually named Hell Week and will be the make it or break it point for everyone on the rink), we split up by year. Some coaches will split people based on their status of being a returning varsity player or a newbie, but Coach Mac likes to divide us by age. He takes the juniors and seniors to one half of the ice, and Tig takes the underclassmen with him to the other half.

Tig, short for Tigger, graduated from college two years ago after playing hockey in college. Four years before that, he graduated from this hellhole, making him our very own Otter alum who decided to move back home and help Coach Mac and Coach Wilson (our strength and conditioning coach who has learned more than a little bit about hockey over the last fifteen years with Coach Mac). Tigger is his nickname, which he gained in high school for bouncing off the walls with excess energy. Even though I was too young to play with him, I did know him back when he played here, and he's easily one of my favorite people to be around. He is basically family.

We run a different set of drills than we did earlier in the week, most of which are ones I've done at some point in my hockey career. I try my best to keep my head down and get shit done, because with Will in goal and the rest of my friends on the other side of the rink, I'm grossly outnumbered with Tristan and his posse.

Do it for the cookies and cream milkshake. Whipped cream, no cherry. Maybe you can even get two.

But because fate hates me, I end up paired with Tristan, and not on the same team. The first rep of the very last drill and I have to go against this prick.

I roll my shoulders back and wait for the smack talk to begin as Tig grabs three pucks from a bag a few feet away. I'm not worried to go against Tristan- I've been a center all my life and have practiced puck drops against Hunter, who is one of the best our program has ever had-, but I am worried about losing my temper if he doesn't keep his mouth shut.

Surprisingly, he's quiet until one of the freshman, a rather lanky kid named Brice, calls, "Lets go Trist! Show her how its done."

Tristan smirks, staring directly forward, but a wave of anger washes over me. Even after four days of me kicking their asses, the freshmen still haven't learned their lesson.

I can't stop myself from snapping, "Says the kid who can't even keep his stick in his hands," in reference to him dropping his stick in the middle of a scrimmage twice yesterday.

Brice flushes a deep red. Two of the other kids laugh, but the rest are completely silent. The other sophomores, most of which I know from last year, exchange nervous glances, possibly waiting for a fight to break out.

"Leave him alone," Tristan snaps. There's a distinct sneer to his words even though he doesn't bother to look at me. "Not that its all that easy for you, psycho. Just because he's a cutie doesn't mean you can be a dick."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I glare at him as sharply as I can, but he still isn't looking at me. Look at me you fucker.

Finally, he glances down at me with a smug smirk tugging at his lips. "Nothing, just that a little birdy told me you happen to use violence as a coping mechanism for crushes?"

Goddammit Tyler.

And in that moment, all I see is red.

* * *

"There's no way you're getting a milkshake now." Tyler mutters as he takes a look at my hand. Nothing is broken, which I can easily tell based on the levels and location of pain, but he insisted on checking anyway. Disapproval radiates off him in waves that remind me of every time my father sits me down for a chat after I get sent home for fighting. If I weren't still buzzing with frustration, and if he didn't just remind me that I nearly broke my streak over that dickhead that's still whining to his friends about me, I might actually feel some shame.

Instead, I just clench my hands (including the bruised one that aches with the movement) and glare up at him as I stand and shove past him. "Why? I didn't start any fights." Technically.

Caleb's laugh is so sudden I jump at the sound.

"You punched the wall!" He shakes his head and eyes me with amusement that contrasts Tyler's disappointment so starkly it's almost comical.

"So?" I snap. "I didn't punch the little rat when I very easily could've. If anything, you should get me two milkshakes for resisting temptation!"

He just laughs again, this time more with disbelief than anything.

Will, who is sitting on the lowest level of the bleachers sighs. "I mean, I am kinda impressed that you hit the wall instead."

I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Thank you! This is why you're my favorite."

Tyler rolls his eyes, and Caleb actually starts to complain, but it's Will's grimace that catches my attention. "I didn't finish. I don't know why kicking his ass in the drill wouldn't have sufficed."

When I open my mouth to reply, nothing comes out. Usually, I'm fantastic at the short notice replies, most of which contain stifling levels of snark, but in this moment nothing comes to me. Instead, I sigh, and go for something a bit more honest. "I tried, Will. But in front of all of them, he implied that I had a crush on him, which is your fault-" I glare at Tyler until he starts to look a bit guilty, "-and I didn't really have much say in what my body did."

Hunter, who hasn't said a word this whole conversation, lounges next to Will and stares at me with a blank expression that is so heavy and damning I actually squirm. For another handful of seconds, the silence stretches, and at this point I'd rather him scold me than anything.

Eventually, he straightens up. "You're very lucky that Coach Mac didn't notice and that Tig isn't a snitch. You could've fucked up everything, not just for you but for the whole team. Tryouts aren't even over yet, Alison."

I flinch as my cheeks flush red. He's right, of course he is, and any fight left in me sinks. Staring down at my feet, avoiding everyone's gazes the best I can, doesn't help either.

"Go easy on her man," Tyler mutters, but the words just make me feel worse. I hate being coddled, especially by them. I'm more than a little paranoid about my friends, who I love dearly and who know me and my strengths better than anyone else, treating me any different than they would a guy. They never have, not even when we first met and I was a puny, sensitive little girl who still cried whenever someone kicked an ant pile, but with dozens, even hundreds of other people in this school calling me crazy or delusional for thinking I can compete in an all boys hockey conference, I can't help but worry.

My spine stiffens as I straighten, and when I speak my voice is harsher than it was before. "I don't need him to go easy on me. I know I fucked up, but it could've been a lot worse, and last I checked I don't need you lecturing me, Hunter. I have a father and a therapist to do that, so fuck off."

Hunter raises an eyebrow at me as his mouth twitches, and if I didn't know him, I might think he was trying to hold back a smirk. However, I do know him, and I know he's trying not to frown, because he knows I'm right. That's not to say he's giving up, though; we have the whole car ride home for him to continue the conversation.

The other three people involved look between the two of us silently. They're more than used to this, and they're most likely just waiting to make sure its well and truly over (for the moment that is, because with Hunter, its never really over).

"Look, let's just go to Chick Fil A." Caleb suggests out of the blue. "I never clarified that any fight, even with inanimate objects, would count, so you made it the whole month. Therefore, I owe you a milkshake." He gives me one of his award winning smiles, and for the first time in the last thirty minutes I feel some semblance of relief. Waiting to see if Coach Mac would notice me cradling my hand, or to see if Tristan would run off and tattle (even though I didn't touch the prick), was stressful. A milkshake with my best friends sounds perfect.

Tyler and Will both agree, and it's Hunter we end up waiting on, which isn't really a shock to any of us. Out of our whole group, he is the strictest with his diet and training, so fast food isn't really his thing. Plus, he is obviously still disappointed in me.

He seems to be ready to move past it, though, because with one last, lingering sigh he stands and shoulders his hockey bag. "Alright, lets go then."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 

happy september folks!! since the last update, i survived covid, moved into college, started sophomore year, started lax,  made incredible memories with my friends, and have had the time of my life. college is WEIRD right now, with insanely strict rules, bc everything is different, but at least i'm here. 

i hope y'all enjoy the chapter! its one of several i have saved, meaning i need to get my ass moving on other chaps, but for now this was an easy edit and post(: 

hope you and your loved ones are staying safe and healthy!!! pls let me know what you all think of the chapter, the characters, etc. i'd love the feedback<3333