Pucked Off Scripts By The Arrogant Hockey Star

Sloane's POV

The thing about ice hockey is that nobody warns you how loud it is.

And I don't mean the crowd even though that's its own kind of assault.

It's the game itself.

The slap of sticks against the puck, the scrape of blades on the ice, and the thud of bodies hitting the boards.

I'd been sitting for the better part of two hours with my shoulders somewhere around my ears, flinching every thirty seconds.

How the heck were almost three thousand people screaming on top of their lungs and losing their darned minds anyway?

The freaking noise, hello?

This was Priya's fault, I swear to god.

"You'll love it," she'd said.

"It's so fun," she'd said.

"Just take my ticket, Sloane, I love you! You love me too, right."

And with that, she had me.

That woman and her darned manipulation.

Priya had been called into a lab session she couldn't miss, which meant her front-row ticket to watch her beloved Ethan Andersen play in the Beanpot final was going to waste.

Apparently the only acceptable solution was to hand it to me.

I didn't know anything about ice hockey or freaking Ethan Andersen.

I did, however, know how to use a camera, which was apparently a requirement enough for my best friend.

Take lots of photos of Ethan, Priya had texted. Close-ups if you can get them. Do NOT let him look blurry. Or I swear I'll haunt you!

The camera in question was currently hanging around my neck.

I'd taken approximately eleven photos.

None of them were of her player, and the other pics were mostly of the ice because I kept clicking the shutter at the wrong moment.

In my defense, everything moved very fast.

But then in the final minutes, the tides seemed to shift.

The score was tied, and the crowd had reached a frequency I was fairly certain only dogs could hear.

On the ice, Ethan Andersen got the puck at the blue line with thirty seconds on the clock.

I immediately rose to my foot with everyone else, collectively holding our breaths.

Finally, Ethan moved. He was somehow unhurried despite the pressure and when he swung his stick, the puck flew straight into the back of the net.

The arena simply detonated.

I took a genuinely good photo of that. And oh, Priya was definitely going to owe me.

The celebration on the ice became so flipping loud I could feel it in my sternum.

The players were cheering loudly, shoulders bumping into each other.

And honestly their bond was perfect for the camera.

I pressed up against the glass for a better angle and got at least five more decent shots.

Just when I started to pull back to look through what I just snapped, Ethan Andersen skated across the ice.

My attention was immediately snapped back and I watched as he grabbed the team captain by the front of his jersey, and punched him in the face.

The crowd went very, very quiet.

I stared through the viewfinder and my fingers kept clicking.

Security and all the referees were on the ice in seconds.

Andersen didn't even try to get away and just stood there with a heaving chest the captain stumbled back with a hand over his nose.

Whatever had just happened, the guy looked like he'd been waiting to do it for a long time.

As they were led off the ice, the crowd started buzzing again, and I slowly lowered the camera.

"Okay," I said to no one. "Cool sport."

---

The cold outside honestly felt better after the artificial air of the arena.

I pulled my coat tighter and started walking, already composing my debrief of the game in my head because she would want every detail.

By the time I hit the bottom of the steps and merged into the stream of dispersing crowd, I had my phone out and Priya was on dial.

She picked up on the second ring, which meant she'd been waiting.

"Tell me everything," she said immediately, her voice highpitched. "How was he? Did you get good shots? Was the game—"

"The game was great," I interrupted her with a small smile, adjusting my glasses. "Really exciting, actually. You would have loved it. Your boy scored the winning goal."

"I know," she squealed and I could visualize her jumping in excitement. "I've been watching the live updates. Ugh, I'm literally sick that I missed it."

"Yeah, you missed him punching his captain in the face."

Silence stretched out on the other end.

"I'm sorry, he what?" Priya's voice came through the moment I was about to ask if she was still on the line.

"Punched his captain Pree." I stepped around a group of stunned-looking students clustered near the exit gates. "I think I actually got it on camera, which honestly, Priya, I don't know how to tell you this, but your idol, Ethan Andersen, might be a violent maniac."

Oh, I poked the bear. Priya was yelling in my ear for the next thirty seconds, protesting the honor of her Ethan.

It was so flipping funny.

I was fighting back my laughter so she didn't cuss me out when my foot caught on something that might have been a rock or a raised bump.

That's the thing with us glasses wearers, we trip over everything!

The only thing I knew was that it was very dark when I caught a glimpse of it.

Either way, I was heading for the darned ground.

I grappled at the air, looking for something to hold to break my fall but found nothing.

Letting out a gasp as I hit the pavement palms-first, the camera and my phone were immediately knocked out of my hands.

The breath fled from my lungs.

Half a second later, I heard the horrible crack of the camera that cost two semesters of Priya's savings meeting concrete.

I laid there on the ground for a moment, trying to slow my pounding heart.

"Sloane?" Priya's voice floated up from somewhere near my knee, tinny through my phone speaker. "What was that noise? Are you okay?"

My eyes darted up at the camera and...the lens was shattered or wait.. maybe it's my glasses.

I didn't even know which would be worse.

Trembling, I pulled off my glasses and yep, it's the camera.

Oh God, Pree is gonna kill me. That's literally her baby!

Just then I heard a scoff.

When I looked over my shoulder where I was on the floor, there was a guy maybe ten feet behind me.

He was very tall and wearing a dark jacket with the hood over his head.

But I can't make out his face because my glasses are off.

My eyes darted to his shoes... Black converse.

I swear to God that was what I tripped on.