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1 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ

THE NOISE OF THE rink fills my ears-skates scraping, sticks cracking against the puck, teammates yelling instructions. My body moves on autopilot, following the motions of years of practice. I'm here, but my mind? It's elsewhere.

The guys are relentless, of course. My buddies Grady, Riggs, and John are teasing me like they always do, but it doesn't even faze me. We've been through this routine a hundred times.

"Hey, Walkie!" Grady yells from across the ice, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You still holding on to that celibacy streak?"

I roll my eyes, trying to brush it off. This season I've decided to hold off on girls until we win the championship, is that so hard for these guys to believe? "Yeah, still focused on the season, boys. No distractions."

John skates over with a wide grin, clearly loving the topic. He's definitely not shy about his sex life. "Come on, man. You've been 'celibate' longer than some monks. How are you surviving?"

Riggs joins in, laughing. He's definitely more of the dad of the group, seeing as his little brother is completely in his care, but that's not my story to tell. Dude's got shit parents. "It's impressive. Not even a single girl has cracked the wall. What's your secret?"

I sigh. The jokes are old at this point, but I've learned to deal with them. "Yeah, well, some of us have priorities," I mutter, pushing the puck down the ice, doing my best to ignore them. Finally Coach yells at us to get our heads in the game.

As practice drags on it gets harder and harder to focus. My mind keeps trying to drift over to something-or someone-else.

I glance toward the gym thats separated from the rink by a large glass window wall, and I see her.

She's there, running on the treadmill. Her long black ponytail sways with each stride, and the bright gym lights shine off her skin, making her look almost... surreal. She's wearing the shortest shorts I've ever seen, which makes my usually uninterested dick stir. There's nothing flashy about her, but everything about her is magnetic. The way she moves, the determination in every step, the way she obsessively checks something on her apple watch-it's like she's in a world of her own, and I can't tear my eyes away.

She doesn't even seem to notice anyone around her. I'm nothing but another face in the glass, but for some reason, I like that even more.

The rest of practice is a blur. I hear coach yelling at us, trying to refocus the team, but my attention keeps wandering back to the gym. I should be focusing on blocking my teammates shots, on improving my technique, but instead, all I can think about is her. Her lean legs, her stride, the way she looks like she has no time for distractions. It's almost... intimidating.

I love hockey, I really do, and it's been a part of my life for years. But lately? It's starting to feel like something's missing. There's a kind of emptiness I can't ignore. I've spent years chasing trophies, breaking records, earning accolades and chasing the draft. But the thrill I used to get from winning those games? It's not there anymore.

It's hard to explain. I still get that rush when I step onto the ice, the adrenaline surging through my veins. But when the final buzzer sounds and the locker room clears, I'm left alone with this gnawing feeling. I'm wondering if it's just the next win I need, or maybe... maybe it's something else.

I'm good at this, hell, I'm great at it, and I'm definitely gonna be top ten in the draft, but it's like I'm starting to crave something else. Something more fulfilling than just winning another game.