Page 38 of Strange Love

I’m especially confident and focused today because I want to impress the cute spectator in the stands. Taz shares my energy since he’s skating with noticeably more intensity than usual. He glides past the girls, and Ivy gives him a friendly wave and smile while Sascha flips him off, and he laughs, returning the hand signal. I still have to get to the bottom of the bad blood between those two.

We start our session with passing lane drills, the sound of skates scraping against the ice filling the air. The tension builds as we move on to short one v two games, each player fiercely determined to come out on top. As the intensity rises, I’m excited by a sense of anticipation for Ivy to witness this side of the game. I suspect she’ll appreciate the raw physicality and strategy behind every play, and I’m eager to showcase my playing style to her. The ice soon becomes a battleground as we transition into contact drills, bodies colliding and muscles straining as we fight for possession of the puck. This sets us apart from other sports, and I can’t wait for Ivy to experience it firsthand.

Next are some basic checking drills. Each movement is deliberate, focused on harnessing the power of our lower bodies and legs to displace our opponent from a held space. Taz and I are matched up for this drill, facing off in a determined stance. We collide, and I’m met with the strength and determination of his movements, but I’m able to use my explosiveness to win all three rounds.

Coach’s whistle echoes through the rink, signaling the start of board-checking drills. Learning to take a hit against the boards without getting injured is crucial in hockey. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to get caught up in the adrenaline and not align your body correctly, so practicing this drill is important for muscle memory.

I’m up first, my heart racing with nerves and anticipation. I position myself tight against the boards, the cold glass against my back. My inside foot, knee, and hip press against the hard surface. I focus on keeping my knees bent and my back straight, knowing this will protect me from injury. Coach signals for Slawson to initiate the check, and I brace myself for impact. As he charges me, I turn my shoulder and hip towards him, ensuring those areas would take most of the force. I keep my chest, stomach, and ribs protected, holding my breath and tightening my muscles as he slams into me. I carefully avoid ducking, knowing that could leave my head vulnerable to being crushed between his body and the unforgiving boards. He makes contact, and I shift my weight off my inside leg to lessen the blow. Per usual, it sounds worse than it is, and I glide away no worse for the wear.

We run through the drills for several minutes, sweat beading on our foreheads and muscles burning with each movement. When I pause to catch my breath, I look over at Ivy. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are shining with excitement. Clearly, she isn’t intimidated by the game; if anything, the challenge invigorates her. A surge of admiration and attraction washes over me as I watch her. I like this look on her. A lot.

We finish up practice with a series of shots at the net. Exhausted from the intense workout, my legs are like lead weights as I take my turn. Coach, known for his flashy displays during open practices, put on a show today. Not that I’m complaining since Ivy was watching from the sidelines.

I skate over to where she’s sitting and ask her to wait so we can chat after. The anticipation builds in me as I can’t wait to hear her thoughts. Since this is such a huge part of my life, if it’s something she hates, it will be a problem. I sensed that it’s not an issue because of how her eyes lit up as she paid attention to everything we were doing for an hour and a half.

After showering quickly and changing, I meet her at the front of the building, where she stands, waiting and shifting from foot to foot. Sascha is with her, looking amused and yet annoyed as normal.

“Hey, Ivy Girl,” I exclaim as I approach her.

“That was amazing, Corey!” she gushes without saying hello. I chuckle and sweep her into a hug, lifting her off her feet. Her little gasps and giggles never fail to make me smile. Those little surprised noises whenever I do something that catches her off guard are quickly becoming one of my favorite things about her.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” I offer.

“I’d love to, but I have to go to work,” she says with a small pout.

“What movie are you planning on watching at work today?” I ask.

She tilts her head and taps her finger against her lips in thought. “Something with hockey in it,” she replies with a mischievous grin.

“Good choice,” I say, matching her grin. “Can I call you later?”

“I’d like that,” she says with a sweet smile. As we part ways, I feel light and happy, more than I have in a long time.

Chapter 21

“Alive And Kicking”

Ivy - Age 18, 1988

School is different as I walk through the hallways today; the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. Instead of receiving stares of disgust like I’m used to, there’s a newfound curiosity in people’s expressions. Some smile at me and offer friendly waves or greetings, which rarely happens. I have to admit, it’s a little unsettling. What’s changed? I’m left to assume that what happened at the party the other night has made its way through the ever-expedient rumor mill, and while what that guy Cruz said was hurtful, the fact that Corey and the rest of the guys stood up for me seems to have made other people more willing to be kind, at least for now. I’ve learned better than to trust it long-term.

I shut my locker with a loud clang, mentally preparing for my first period. Suddenly, I feel someone’s curious gaze on me and turn to see Sascha staring at me with raised eyebrows.

“Seems everyone’s heard about your wild weekend,” she says teasingly.

I roll my eyes and reply, “You know how gossip spreads like wildfire in this school.”

We stroll side by side toward our first-period classes, talking about nothing in particular. Suddenly, I come to a halt and pivot to face my friend.

“Hey, did you have a good time at practice?” I inquire.

She pauses, looking surprised. “Actually, I did,” she admits. “No one is more surprised by that than me, but it was cool.”

I raise an eyebrow curiously. “And what about watching Taz?” I prod.

Her face lights up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, the best part was when everyone else slammed him into the boards,” she declares with glee.

“Sash,” I say tentatively, “do you think you could ever tell me what went down between you two?”