Chapter Text
Tuesday 16th February 2016
‘Lenney…’ Coach Dawson turned his head to the 18-year-old, who was sitting in the corner of the locker room staring at his skates, ‘Center.’
‘Go on lad!’ Harrison patted him on the back, as other cries of ‘Wheyyyy!’ rang out through the room, punctuated softly with a muffled ‘The fuck?’ Jason Bynes stared at Dawson, mouth frozen in a ‘o’.
Meanwhile, Will’s heartbeat quickened. Was this really happening? He, he, had been selected in the starting 6 for the match against Sheffield Bears?!
Fuck.
The locker room buzzed with excitement as Will’s face flushed, his hands clammy, almost forgetting how to breathe. The bench squad list became white noise as Will processed the feeling of being chosen for the starting 6 for the first time, as center no less.
Scouts would be at the match. No doubt they’d only be watching the Bears players – bunch of posh bastards who expected to crush the Newcastle Wildcats and look good doing it. But there was always a chance…
Cheers and laughter rang out from most of the squad members, while some sat dejected at their relegated status, including Bynes who stared daggers in Will’s direction. Will swallowed, averting his eyes as Coach approached him.
‘I’ve been impressed by your commitment recently, Lenney,’ he spoke hushed, just loud enough to be heard by Will over the racket.
Will’s voice trembled slightly as he replied, ‘Thank you, sir.’ He always felt nervous under Coach’s watch. He was firm but fair, harsh at times but well-meaning overall, a rugged face with remnants of a broken nose from his time as a player. Attractive to women, Will would assume.
‘Don’t get psyched out just ‘cause it’s the Bears. You can be better than half those twats if you screw your head on.’ Will looked away, catching Bynes’ deathly gaze again. He gulped. ‘Hey.’ Will flicked back to Coach’s deep brown eyes, which were earnest now. ‘Give those scouts something to take their eyes off them, ok?’
Will nodded.
‘Good lad,’ Coach patted him roughly on the shoulder, turning back to the rest of the locker room and raising his voice. ‘Alright, alright!’ The room hushed almost instantly, Coach being practically the only person in Newcastle who truly earned the respect of all the young men. ‘Get a good night’s rest, the coach leaves at 8:30, and it won’t wait. I’ll make sure of that.’ He glanced towards his usual latecomers, smiles wiped from their faces. ‘Good work today, now get lost, I’ve had enough of the lot of ya. Morley, quick word,’ Coach called the captain over.
The room once again hit 80 decibels, as the University of Newcastle Wildcats ice hockey squad started to whip off their training gear and head to the showers. Will changed immediately into his tracksuit, itching to escape the mounting pressure of Bynes’ stare. Plus, he didn’t love showering with the other lads if he could avoid it.
‘No pressure, right Lenney?’ His best mate Chris came up behind him.
‘Aye,’ Will exhaled. ‘Dunno why he picked me though.’
‘Shut up, it’s about time. You better pass to me on the wing though.’ Chris joked.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Will grinned for the first time since before practice.
‘You not showering?’
‘Nah, I gotta head.’
“Alright stinky, see you tomorrow.’ Chris flipped his towel over his shoulder and headed towards the showers, as Will escaped out of the door, leaving behind the din of hormonal boyhood.
He stopped by the vending machine out the back of the rink to pick up a Red Bull for the next day, a rare treat he allowed himself for making the starting 6. There was no point drinking an energy drink only to be subbed on for the last five minutes in the third period of a game – in short, it had been six months since he’d last had a Red Bull.
A door slammed as he slotted a pound coin into the machine, making him jump.
Jason Bynes.
‘Whose dick did you have to suck to get given my position Lenney? Coach’s? Morley’s?’ Bynes called.
Will picked up the drink can as it clattered out of the dispenser and shrugged his bag onto his shoulder, keeping his head down.
‘Huh?’ Bynes stormed towards him as Will picked up the pace heading across the car park to his route home. The concrete was slippery with water from the day’s rain, the cold November air biting at his cheeks. Bynes’ shadow started to tower over Will’s, elongated by the singular flickering streetlight which barely illuminated the two rows of cars parked.
‘Hey!’ Will hardly had time to process the blow which landed square on his cheekbone and knocked him to the floor, his hand grazing on the concrete as he caught his fall. A hard kick jabbed his ribs as he tried to haul himself back to his feet, head throbbing.
The sound of the ice rink door opening in the distance, the sound of his teammates jeering.
A gob of spit landed by his hand as he pushed himself off the floor, Bynes making a quick getaway. ‘Fucking cunt, you better watch it.’
Will hurriedly clambered to his feet before the lads rounded the corner, hand hot from the grime in his graze. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered under his breath, shaking out his wrist in an attempt to convince himself it wasn’t sprained.
The can of Red Bull dribbled across the car park floor, burst in the commotion. A small drop of blood trickled down his finger and landed in the fizzy puddle.
***
Wednesday 17th February 2016
‘Lenney, the hell happened to you?’ Coach Dawson frowned as Will arrived at the coach.
Will’s cheek had turned a mottled purple-red overnight and the left side of his ribs maintained a dull ache. He already had his skins on to cover the bruising from anyone in the changing room, and wore his oversized Wildcats hoodie over the top, so the sleeves covered his bandaged hand and wrist. He prayed he was able to get his gloves on in the changing room before Coach saw.
‘Had a kickabout with some mates last night,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Ball to the face, y’know.’
‘Bloody hell, before the biggest match of the season!’ Dawson took a breath. ‘You better not have a concussion,’ he said through gritted teeth.
Will said nothing as he dumped his kit bag in the luggage compartment and trudged onto the bus, sitting in the aisle seat next to Chris.
‘Jesus Christ, Will. First fight? You know it’s a right of passage for hockey players, but I wasn’t expecting it from you just yet,’ Chris smirked.
‘Shut up.’
‘The fuck happened?’
‘Nothing, alright?’ Will snapped. ‘Ball to the face playing football with my housemates.’
‘Oh, right, your famously friendly and athletic housemates,’ Chris joked.
It was true that Will had drawn the short straw with his university accommodation, being put in a rancid flat with two nerdy guys who never seemed to leave their rooms, and three girls that were decent enough but had made it very clear within the first week of living together that Will was very much in the friendzone. Not that he cared much. They were more interested in going out together on the lash than having anything to do with sports.
‘Whatever, mate,’ Will mumbled.
Will knew Chris knew him well enough, even from their short six months of friendship, to figure he was lying. Not that it would stop him. He couldn’t face the humiliation of admitting he’d practically been jumped in the ice rink car park by his bully of a teammate.
‘You seen the Bears posted their squad on insta? We’re fucked mate.’ Chris scoffed as he showed Will his phone.
‘Clarke, Hill, shit, they’re starting their best team… Marriott? Who’s that?’
‘Dunno, sounds posh,’ Chris spoke through a mouthful of a protein ball.
‘S’dad probably owns them hotels or some shit…ohhh, shit,’ Will trailed off as he saw Bynes step onto the coach, putting his head down. His knee jiggled up and down repeatedly.
Bynes swaggered down the aisle, still clearly pissed, and not-so-subtly kicked Will’s fidgeting leg in the shin as he walked past.
‘Ow!’ Will cried out, louder than he normally would’ve from the unexpected knock. Any lower and Bynes could’ve taken out his relaxed ankle and caused Will some serious trouble. No doubt that was the aim.
‘Jesus, watch it,’ Chris turned to look at Bynes, with genuine disgust and confusion written across his face. Will felt a pang in his heart from his friend’s loyalty and bravery to stand up to the second year, leading center, who probably had enough influence to get them both kicked off the team if he really wanted. Will almost felt bad when he uttered ‘It’s fine, just leave it.’
Bynes just continued his way to sit at the back of the bus with some of his closer teammates.
‘Such a twat,’ Chris tutted.
‘Yeah,’ Will agreed through a whisper. You can say that again.
‘So, the social’s gonna be fun tonight,’ Chris grinned, his fresher’s mentality for a night out shining through.
‘Yeah, think I might skip it tonight,’ Will said. ‘Got a bunch of work to do.’ It wasn’t a total lie.
‘Since when do you really care about doing your degree work on time?’
‘Since today,’ Will said forcefully.
‘Oh pleeease come out tonight, pretty please? I’ll buy you skittlebombs,’ Chris pouted.
‘Right, cause they’re the cheapest drink and you’re a broke bastard.’
‘Okay, I’ll make you a deal. You score today, you have to come out to celebrate. Don’t score, you can wallow in your misery and engineering work while I get sloshed anyway.’
‘Deal,’ Will grinned, finding his mate’s honest belief that he would succeed in the match sweet, as much as he doubted it himself.
But Coach believed, and Chris believed. Maybe he could do this, and prove his worth to the Wildcats?
***
Cheers erupted from the stands as the Sheffield Bears and Newcastle Wildcats took to the ice. Will’s heart raced as he skated to centre ice, drinking in the atmosphere of one of the league’s most anticipated games of the season so far. For a university team, the Sheffield fans had seriously shown up, and the players lapped the ice before taking their starting positions. They earnt screams from girls who held up signs like ‘Puck me Clarkey!’ and ‘Bareback for the Bears’, as well as howls and cheers from other guys. As much as he had tried to focus on his own game up until this point, Will couldn’t help himself from watching the other team’s (somewhat ridiculous and Americanised) pre-match ritual as if he was a fan himself. It looked unbelievably fun and, he had to admit, was kind of cool.
I want to feel that one day. For the big leagues.
The referee blew his whistle to signal everyone to take their positions. The Bears’ tall number 15 skated towards where Will stood nervously at centre ice and immediately put his head down, seemingly very focused. He had been one of the less macho of the players as the Bears had shown off to the crowd, but Will had still observed him earning significant screams from some of the girls. What were these Sheffield players on?
The noise in the rink dulled to a hum as they awaited the first puck drop off the game, which Will had been fretting over winning all morning. As he readied himself, he stole a glance to the guy opposite him, who had a good half a foot on Will’s height. He didn’t recognise him from their last match, although admittedly he had barely played. His jawline was solid, and Will was weirdly attracted to the way his throat was clenching with each breath. Then, the number 15 looked up at Will briefly and, holy shit, his eyes were… gorgeous. Even a straight man could appreciate that.
As Will tried to shake the piercing look of the other guy’s deep brown eyes out of his head, he realised a countdown from ten had started in the crowd, and it was already down to…
‘-Two, One!’
The puck was dropped between Will and the guy with stupidly distracting eyes, and Will hardly had time to react before the Bears player won the faceoff and spun Will with ease, leaving Will in the wake of a smattering of ice.
Fuck.
***
Despite a rough start, with the Wildcats conceding a penalty in the first period leaving them 1-0 down, Will’s confidence had grown along with the hype from the crowd. The Bears players were good, they were great actually – but Will was in form. He took some of them on easily, winning tackle after tackle, and only narrowly missed a perfectly weighted cross sent in from Chris on the wing.
After the first period, Coach Dawson had one thing to say to him.
‘Scouts, Will. Come on!’
Will nodded. Come on, Will.
The second period began, and his coach’s words spurred him on. He flew across the ice, shoulder barging the – oh, it was the number 15, who was pretty good to be honest – jostling to get the puck, he almost had it… and suddenly, he was spinning to the floor with a crack as his stick whacked the boards.
‘Shit, alright man?’ Will heard a voice skate up behind him, sounding genuinely concerned. It wasn’t Chris though, it was the damn number 15.
‘Uh, yeah, yeah,’ Will panted, as the guy helped to haul him to his feet. With an extra second or two to look at him, Will definitely thought he was good looking. Very tall, actually, too. Kind of rugged handsome, like a younger version of Coach Dawson maybe.
‘Your visor’s wonky,’ Number 15 said with a smirk as he skated off.
Will stood stunned for a moment, as Chris brought him his stick that had slid off somewhere after the collision. ‘The fuck did he want?’
‘Just helped me up,’ Will said absentmindedly, watching the 15 on the back of the shirt grow smaller as the guy skated off. He wished universities weren’t so cheap as to not print names on the backs of the players’ shirts.
‘Think that’s that Marriott player we saw on the line up,’ Chris said as if reading his mind. ‘Not bad. Your goal’s coming mate.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’ Will took his first deep breath since being knocked to the floor and tried to refocus his mind.
Marriott.
***
After multiple line changes, and time spent nervously jittering away on the bench, Will was back on the ice, playing on the wing for the third period. Bynes reclaimed his spot at the centre, after Will had been unable to convert any of his shots to goals. The game was stuck at 2-2, with Chris having scored from Will’s assist, and Bynes scoring during his stint on the wing during the second period. The Marriott guy had scored the second goal for the Bears with a neatly placed low shot into the corner, which Will would have been proud to have scored himself, to be honest. He caught himself staring as the number 15 took a celebratory lap, and just caught himself before a smile crept across his face. He was meant to hate the Bears.
Will knew if he had any chance left to truly impress any potential scouts, he needed to score the winner. He could tell Bynes was still fuming, as he never opted to pass to Will, even when he was open or on goal.
‘Come on, man!’ Will roared, as Bynes let another player tackle him instead of passing.
‘Got a prick for a teammate?’ Will heard a voice to his left. Marriott, again, taunting him.
‘Fuck off man!’ Will shoved him, a bit harder than he normally would, scowling. Not too hard though. He didn’t fancy his chances with him in a fight.
Seemingly unphased, Marriott chased the puck as it came sliding near their area of the ice.
Oh, it’s on.
Will chased after Marriott, who got away after some bodying from each of them. He changed directions into the path of Bynes, who went in for a clumsy tackle. Marriott barged him, hard, in the side. Will noticed his right arm which held the stick lower down seemed to jut outwards a little into the shove on Bynes, who clattered to the ground roughly and cried out, clutching his left shoulder.
'Elbow in, number 15?' the referee half-asked (as he seemed unsure), half-despaired (that he had to do his job). He wasn't that good, they never were for university-level matches.
Marriott shrugged for the referee's benefit, but glanced across the ice to Will and gave him a quick, almost imperceptible wink. Will's heart seemed to catch, probably from the adrenaline rush of skating for most of the last 50 minutes.
Meanwhile Bynes rolled on the floor, stamping his skate as medics came onto the ice to assess his injury. Will couldn't hide the smile that crept across his face as the referee doled out a penalty to Marriott, who skated off the ice with the same shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome features.
***
‘And it will be no surprise that the player of the match has to go to…’ Coach smiled, looking over his team in the changing room.
‘Oooooooh!’ The players drumrolled on their knees.
‘William bloody Lenney! For that beautiful shot fired into the top corner in the final minute, and great dedication throughout. You’ll have impressed everyone in the crowd today, Lenney,’ Coach smiled at the fresher, knowing what his comment meant to him.
‘Thank you Coach,’ Will smiled back. Maybe some scouts had noticed. It was a pretty good shot, and it had sealed the Wildcat’s win against the current best-rated team in the league.
Will had also seemingly met his match with that number 15. It was fun playing against someone you shared a position with who was as good, if not better than you. Even if they were slightly… distracting.
'Bynes fractured his upper arm from the challenge earlier,' Coach confirmed. 'So he's out for a while. Counting on the rest of you to fill his skates, although he didn't have the greatest game today. Something on his mind, I guess.' Coach glanced quickly at Will again, who for the umpteenth time that day had to hide a smile. He'd always suspected Coach hadn't liked Bynes. This seemed like a satisfying form of confirmation.
‘Sooo,’ Chris came and clapped Will on the back as the lads began getting changed. ‘Good goal from you, huh? You know what that means!’
Shit.