Page 61 of Lawson
“Well, I do love you,” I say. “You’re the best.”
“I try,” she says before pocketing her phone. “I think I've got enough for a video,” she continues. “I'm going to head to the office and work on the footage.”
“Have fun,” I say. “I'm going to go try to teach these boys how to skate some more.”
We start walking our separate ways, and she laughs as she waves at me before disappearing down the hallway.
An hour later, sweat beads beneath my leggings and sweatshirt despite the chill of the ice in the practice rink. My first group had risen to the occasion, mastering the drills I laid out for them today, and I was almost dreading my final group as they lined up before me.
There’s a massive change from when we started before the preseason to now, and I daresay I have a bunch of pride building in my chest for these NHL players who mostly accepted me and what I have to offer them. Most of them were already leaps and bounds ahead of where they started, and I only struggled with a few who continued to roll their eyes at the fact that a figure skater is teaching them skate techniques to improve their game.
My heart does a little flutter thing that’s signature to whenever Lawson is in my presence, and I do my best not to show my full smile as he unabashedly grins at me where he forces his way to the front of the lineup.
I flash him a chiding look, knowing that isn't the best teammate manners. He shrugs, and gives me a wink, his hazel eyes silently communicating things thataren'twork appropriate at the moment, and I blow out a breath, trying to remember exactly what drills I planned to introduce to this group.
I force myself to focus and to remember the job I’m paid to do—one that I love and that I'm lucky as hell to have. I do that thing where I compartmentalize my emotions, shoving my downright giddy sensations into a box with Lawson's name on it. I'll open that up when we see each other after practice, but right now Coach Wren needs to make sure these boys are ready to stand against the Seattle Sharks, who we play next.
“The Sharks are in the top five best NHL team ranks for a reason,” I say just like I had with my groups prior. “Not only do they have a hell of a coach, they have a powerhouse of a team. Their defensemen somehow find their opponents on the ice before we even know they're skating toward us and their forwards can skate like lightning. They steal pucks and they score goals, and they work together like a unit who has been playing together for years. They anticipate each other's moves, and they adapt if one of their teammates tries something new. None of them are fighting for individual fame and they operate like they have the collective win as their sole motivation.”
“Sounds like you're working for the wrong team, figure skater,” Jake Waller, a rookie who loves to give me shit, says from the middle of the group.
I bite back the smart response that’s on the tip of my tongue and shift my focus to him.
He's glaring at me in his normalI don't want to be taught anything by a girlway, but I've gotten used to it by now.
“It’s advantageous to understand your opponent and their strengths. It helps you better exploit them when you go up against them. Not doing your homework on who you're playing is lazy. Expecting me to hand-feed you these facts is too.”
Waller sneers at me, but keeps his mouth shut, so I move on with the lesson, dividing them into smaller groups of three and showing them the balance and power drills I’ve assigned for them today.
Waller scoffs, but doesn't verbally express how ridiculous he thinks the exercise is—lifting one leg while holding still on the other to start with a set of twenty-five reps per leg. I then move them on to perfect the explosive crossover start followed by power focus in order to help their speed. I demonstrate every exercise a handful of times before asking them to do it themselves, wanting to show them that I'm not asking them to do anything that I wouldn't do myself.
“Waller,” I call out after a half hour into the power exercise. “You're using the wrong edge, and it's slowing you down. Try shifting to the free leg, and then?—”
“I'm moving faster than half of these guys?—”
“No, you're not,” I say, waving a hand toward the other guys. “They’ve consistently outskated you every single time and it's because you're not listening. I don't know if you're doing it on purpose or if you just can'tfeelit.”
I demonstrate what he's doing, and then show him the correct way to do it. “Try this exercise and it will help give you an edge when you face the Sharks. If you keep doing what you're doing, they’ll overtake you every time?—”
Waller skates over to me, grinding to a stop right in front of me, cutting my words off with the move. He's not small, and he towers over me as he looks down at me with that same glare he's always given me. I force myself to hold his gaze even though every instinct is firing at me to skate backward a few feet.
I hold my fucking ground.
“Iamdoing it the right way,” he argues, his tone catching the attention of the other guys who’d been finishing up their drills.
Lawson being one of them. He skates closer, but I give a slight shake of my head hoping he interprets that as I've got it.
“Whether you want to believe it or not,” I say. “I’m on your side.” I point to the Badger sweatshirt I currently wear. “I’m a part of this team. I want you to win. I’m not telling you these things to hurt your precious ego. I want you to beat the Sharks?—”
“The way you talk about the Sharks makes me highly doubt you want us to beat them.” He sneers down at me. “In fact,” he continues. “It sounds more likely that you're fucking one of them. Is that how you know so much about them?”
One second Waller is standing before me wearing a shit-eating grin and the next he disappears, hitting the ice with a loudthunk.
Lawson is on top of him and throws a punch, which doesn't do much damage since they're in full gear, his gloved hand hitting Waller's helmet, but the two immediately descend into a scrap.
“Stop it!” I yell, but they totally ignore me.
Pax is the first one to grab hold of Lawson, yanking him off of Waller and getting him to calm down. But even with Pax holding him back, and a rookie holding Waller back, the two keep trying to go at each other.