"Colt, stop being such an ass." Clay snaps at me, as I pass him. I grip my stick tighter, and scowl. There is no need to be a crybaby if your game sucks, loser.

"Stop being a pussy." I hiss, skating away from my best friend.

It's already Tuesday, and with each passing day my mood has worsened increasingly. Even visiting Mom for the few hours I spent with her on Saturday gave me only a short breather. Once I was back in my car, my smile faded away and the shittiest mood I've ever been in returned. I'm not sure I have smiled even once since... fucking Friday night. Everything became insignificant and also frustrating. And I hate it! Though, hockey is my only salvation, as long as I'm on the ice, that's it.

Our practice is close to ending, and so far, it's all good. Coach giving us hell the other day certainly knew what he was doing. Everyone is motivated, collected and is giving a hundred percent of their attention to the game. I'm the same... in addition to my bottled-up anger. I hit harder again, sending the puck flying into the net. If anything, my fury is my fuel. All my shots today are powerful and well-paced. I didn't hear even a word of scolding from the coach... unlike the guys. I pissed them off.

I'm one of the fastest players in our team. I feel the game. I'm attentive to details. Always. I don't let myself lose my focus even for the slightest moment. I live for the game because it is my whole existence. My purpose. Something I'm good at, and dear God, how much I need this validation after that disaster with her. Never in my life had I felt so miserable after being with a girl. Ever!

"Thompson!" I wheel around, focusing on Benson. He gapes at me with his brow pinched together, stick lifted, ready to pass the puck to me.

I scan his posture to figure out the angle, curtly nod, and skate where the puck is going to be. Cutting through the ice, I speed up just in time to see the puck lift into the air and land on the ice in my stick's reach. I swing, hitting the puck and watch as it goes to the uppermost part of the net. I lift my fist in the air, absolutely content with myself. "And that's where mama keeps the peanut butter, man." I burst out laughing, skating over to Rodgers. "Don't pout. It doesn't suit you."

Clay gives me one nasty look and keeps silent, nostrils flaring from his anger. Then he grabs his bottle and storms away from me. He's such a child sometimes. It's not my fault he let me score so many times today. If it happens, he knows he should do better. As simple as that.

I notice guys gathering around the coach and I join them. Another pep-talk. Something that he always does after every practice. Literally. This time with a bit of praise for our hard work, but again threatening us to always stay focused and motivated because otherwise we will lose the game. No shit, man, as if we don't know that.

Barely listening, I look around the arena, noticing the cheerleading squad practicing. All the girls have great bodies, some are even fun to hang out with, some are incredibly hot... but they aren't her. Congrats, moron, you again let your mind go in a loop. A fucking shit show. I clench my jaw, shaking my head as if I'm a wet dog. I need her the fuck out of my system. As soon as possible, while I'm still sane. I swear to God, she drives me up the wall.

"You did great, Thompson." I squint my eyes to the side, seeing Baker stare at me. He leans on his stick, a smug smile stretched across his face.

"I did my usual." I comment, averting my sight away from him.

"Nah, man, that was not your usual." He guffaws, shifting to face me. "You looked like a madman most of today's practice. I have never seen you so aggravated during practice."

"What's your point?"

"Just observing. Like I always do." Baker edges closer, holding my gaze. "Rumor has it, you were at the movies last Friday. With a delicious looking piece of ass."

"Do you believe all the rumors you hear?" I smirk, not showing even the slightest change of my emotion. Indifference mixed with my fury filling my veins. Why should I care if someone saw me with her? She thinks of me as a piece of meat and didn't hesitate to suck my dick in a public place. It's her reputation. Not mine.

"Not really." He sweeps his eyes over my face, narrowing them to slits. "You don't date anyone, so hearing about you being on a date with some chick felt weird. Because... she must be someone special, Thompson, if you decided to break your own rules."

The coach dismisses us, but I don't move. I hate this fucker. He's sleazy and nosey. If anything, he reminds me of my father - toxic and manipulative, believing that his money can buy anything and anyone. I want to prove him wrong. He deserves to be kicked down a peg or two.

"I didn't break any rules because I have none." I move closer, standing up to him almost chest to chest. "And it wasn't a date. Just a hookup. Like always."

"Hookup? At the movies?" Shit! That's why I say she fucked me up inside my head. I become brainless. I not only admitted I really was at the movies, but also hinted at getting off in a public place. Jerk! "How about you introduce her to me? She sounds like a wild thing, and it's exactly what I like. You usually don't mind sharing, don't you? At least it never was an issue between you and Rodgers."

"Clay is my best friend." I take off my helmet, my wet hair falling in my eyes. "While you... You're just a dude I tolerate for the sake of the team."

"Aww, I love it when you're honest, Thompson." Baker snorts loudly. "It's such a pity you don't want to tell me who she was... it would have saved me a ton of time, but whatever. I will figure it out myself... a girl who fucks in public is a must on my list."

I cackle, shaking my head, and edging to the locker room. "Who said anything about fucking in public? You're such a sicko."

"You said it." He retorts, and I look at him over my shoulder.

"I said she was nothing special. Just a hookup." I smile broader, noticing him frown. He's struggling to understand what the truth is. "Some girls need a bit of work, before you fuck them, Baker. Try to remember that."

With that, I leave him alone. Hopefully, this act I put on is enough to shake him off my tail. I don't want him spying on me. He's the last person on this earth that needs to know about Ava. It would only double his determination to win the bet. The fucking stupid bet she still has no idea about. Dammit, why do I care? She made it perfectly clear what I am to her. Sex is the only thing she's interested in with me. Pathetic.

Walking into the locker room, I notice Clay with a towel wrapped around his hips. He's broody and doesn't look at anyone, focusing on getting dressed. It's one of his phases when he silently hates everyone, including himself. When he's like that, I give him space and don't try to cheer him up. It never works, making him only moodier. I let him be.

I take off my gear, quickly hop into the shower and then change my clothes. Drake and I are the only ones who are still in the locker room. We talk about practice, discuss Saturday's game and joke. I'm glad things have gone back to normal between us because I honestly like the guy and being his enemy isn't something I want, for real.

My phone buzzes and I take it from the bench. My dearest father wants to talk. About what this time? I hope it's not another shitty excuse to lure me home. "Are you leaving?" Drake lingers by the door, and I shake my head no. "Okay. Bye."

I nod and press my phone to my ear. No matter what he wants, I don't care. "Hello?"

"Colt, hey." The fuck?! "It's Helen."

I keep quiet and hear her heave a sigh. "Can we talk like adults for at least 5 minutes? It won't take longer."

"I was pretty clear with you last time. I don't want to talk to you. Ever."

"Oh, I remember." She pauses for a second, clearing her throat. "Trust me, I would have never called you in other circumstances. Yet, I have a job and there are some things I need to do, no matter what I want myself."

Fucking asshole kept her close all these years back, and when things calmed down, he brought her back. Promotion, new job title, pretty big paycheck. He gave her everything, at the same time ghosting my mother and never paying attention to her needs and her current state. He pays her bills, nothing else.

"I'm calling you using your father's phone because I know you wouldn't have answered if I used my own. It's important."

I zip my sports bag, grab it from the bench and drape it over my shoulder. The room suddenly becomes small, as if walls are closing in on me. My forehead is sweaty, and I thread fingers through my still wet hair. "What?"

"Your dad is throwing a big party next month. He will need you there-"

"Not interested." I cut her off, taking a timid step in the direction of the door.

"All your future partners will be there. You need to make acquaintances." I shut my eyes because listening to her voice brings everything back. All my memories are bubbling to the surface, as if I hadn't tried to erase them all these years. "You are graduating soon, and if you think it will be easy to just dive into your responsibilities, you're wrong. You need to start now-"

"I have a good chance I'll go pro, Helen." I grit through my teeth. "If that happens, my dad can kiss all his plans about me inheriting his empire goodbye."

"Eric is sure you're going to join him. He has no doubt."

Chuckling to myself, I shake my head. That's the thing about this man. One second, he assures you he wants you to go pro, but the next one - he already shows you his plans for the next 5 years, which include your active participation. He's delusional if he thinks I will give up on my dreams. Even if it happens, and the San Jose Sharks won't sign me, I will become an unrestricted free agent and I will do anything to land myself a contract. Whatever it will take.

"Well, I don't share the sentiment, Helen. As soon as this school year is over, I'll be out of this state."

"Don't bite off more than you can chew, Colton." She fires back, losing her patience at once. "I will send you the details. Make sure you mark it on your calendar. You MUST be there."

"Only if it's not the same day as a game."

"Don't worry about that. Your father knows your schedule." I highly doubt that, I want to add, but I keep these words to myself. I want this call to be over already.

"Anything else?" I put my hand on the doorknob.

"She misses you."

"Bye, Helen." I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket. I refuse to play her games. Not anymore. Not ever.

I trudge out of the locker room, down the hallway, feeling my thoughts racing in a vicious circle. The state I'm in is pretty fucked up. On top of my anger that woman added another pinch of frustration and also made me unmotivated. Your family is supposed to be your biggest supporters, while mine knocks the air out of my lungs. The father who pretends that he cares about my future as a hockey player... In reality? He is already planning my future participation in his business because he doesn't believe in me. Sadly, it doesn't even surprise me.

Opening the door, I saunter out of the building and inhale deeply. Everything is going to be alright. It's just an unfortunate coincidence. Nothing else. I just need to go home and...

I freeze, finally realizing what I'm staring at. My blood boils in my veins, my skin becomes hot and a vein in my neck pulsates so hard that it's deafening me. She's here. Ava is here, and not for me. She's here with Benson. They stroll to his car as he carries two cups from Starbucks, and she has what looks like a box of donuts in her hands. They are going to his place, aren't they? Are they going to make up for lost time? Of course, they are! How could I even think otherwise?! I was a fool thinking she likes me!

Storming to the parking lot, I keep my gaze trained only on my car. She doesn't exist anymore. She's just like everyone else. Nothing special. A hookup. A one-time thing. A pretense. She's nothing. The girl I thought I saw in her doesn't exist. Period.

I open my car door, jump inside, toss my bag on the backseat, and start the engine. My whole body is tense, my hands are trembling. I curse, grip the steering wheel hard and take off, my eyes meeting hers just for a moment as I overtake Benson's car. Her lips part and she frowns. I look like a total wacko, but I don't care. She's no one, and there is no way in hell I let myself think about her. Ever.