Jake was halfway through a bowl of cereal that tasted like cardboard when some massive dude approached his table in the dining hall. The guy looked like he'd been carved out of granite and probably ate nails for breakfast.
"You Jake Sullivan?" the guy asked in a voice that could probably shatter windows.
Jake looked around to make sure he wasn't about to get murdered in public. "Uh, yeah?"
"I'm Coach Peterson. Hockey team." The man sat down without being invited, making the chair look like children's furniture. "Heard you played back home."
"Who told you that?"
"Your roommate. Kid mentioned you were pretty good."
Jake was going to kill Danny. "I played in high school, but it was nothing special."
Coach Peterson laughed like Jake had just told him the world's funniest joke. "Son, Danny showed me some videos. That wasn't 'nothing special.'"
"What videos?"
"Local news coverage from your championship game. You scored four goals and basically carried your team on your back."
Jake felt his face getting hot. That game had been two years ago, and he'd tried not to think about it much since then. Hockey had been his thing back home, but college was supposed to be about new stuff.
"That was high school hockey," Jake said. "This is college."
"Different level, sure. But talent is talent." Peterson leaned forward. "Tryouts are tomorrow at 6 AM. You should come."
"I don't even have gear anymore."
"We've got loaner equipment. Just bring yourself and try not to suck too bad."
Before Jake could object further, Peterson was gone, leaving Jake staring at his soggy cereal and wondering what the hell Danny had gotten him into.
"So," said a familiar voice, "I hear you're trying out for hockey."
Jake looked up to see Emma sitting down with her lunch tray, looking way too amused.
"How do you already know about that? Peterson literally just left."
"This is college. News travel at light speed." She took a bite of her salad. "Plus, Danny texted the group chat."
"Of course he did."
"So are you good?"
Jake shrugged. "I was okay in high school."
"That's not what Danny said. He made it sound like you were some kind of hockey god."
"Danny's full of shit."
Emma laughed. "Maybe, but he doesn't seem like the type to lie about stuff like that."
Tyler appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to Emma like he'd been shot out of a cannon. "Dude, you played hockey? That's sick!"
"Apparently everyone knows now."
"You have to try out," Tyler said. Hockey players get so much respect on campus. Plus, the parties..."
"I'm not doing it for the parties."
"But the parties are a nice bonus," Mia said, joining their little impromptu meeting. "Hockey guys are basically celebrities here."
"Since when do you care about sports?" Emma asked.
"Since never, but I care about hot guys on skates."
Jake felt his phone buzz and checked it, grateful for the distraction.
Sophie: heard about the hockey tryouts! that's so cool. are you nervous?
Jake: how does everyone know everything so fast?
Sophie: small campus, big mouths lol. seriously though, you should totally try out
Jake: what if I embarrass myself?
Sophie: then you embarrass yourself doing something you love instead of sitting around wondering what if
Jake stared at his phone. She had a point.
Jake: when did you get so wise?
Sophie: pre-med school applications require essay writing. I've gotten very good at motivational bullshit
Jake laughed out loud, earning curious looks from his tablemates.
"Good news from Sophie?" Mia asked with that smirk that said she knew way too much about everyone's business.
"She thinks I should try out."
"Smart girl," Tyler said. "You totally should."
"I haven't been on the ice in like two years."
"It's like riding a bike," Emma said. "Expect with more potential for broken bones."
"Very encouraging, thanks."
That evening, Jake found himself at the campus sporting goods store, staring at hockey equipment that cost more than his monthly food budget. Danny had insisted on coming along, probably feeling guilty about volunteering Jake for tryouts without asking.
"Dude, you don't need to buy anything yet," Danny said. "Coach said they have loaners."
"Loaner equipment is usually garbage that smells like death."
"So? It's just tryouts. If you make the team, then you can worry about gear."
Jake picked up a stick and tested the flex. It felt good in his hands, familiar in a way that made his chest tight with something he couldn't quite name.
"You miss it," Danny observed.
"Miss what?"
"Hockey. You get this look on your face when you touch the equipment."
Jake put the stick back. "It was just high school stuff."
"Bullshit. I saw those videos, man. You were incredible."
"Why'd you show Peterson anyway?"
Danny was quiet for a minute. "Because you've been playing it safe since you got here. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with that, but I can tell you're holding back."
"Holding back from what?"
"From being yourself. The real you, not the version you think will fit in a college."
Jake didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything.
The next morning at 5:45 AM, Jake stood outside the ice rink feeling like he was about to throw up. The building looked intimidating as hell, and he could hear the sounds of skates on ice from inside.
"You coming or just gonna stand there all day?"
Jake turned to see a guy about his age walking up with a gear bag that looked like it had survived several wars. He was tall, blonde, and had the kind of effortless confidence that screamed natural athlete.
"Yeah, just... psyching myself up."
"First tryout?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Nah, I'm on the team. Alex Virtanen." The guy had a slight accent and the easy smile of someone who'd never met a challenge he couldn't handle. "You look nervous as hell."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Little bit. Don't stress about it though. Peterson's bark is worse than his bite. Usually." Alex adjusted his bag. "I'm from Finland - came here on scholarship. Trust me, American tryouts are nothing compared to what we do back home."
They walked into the rink together, and Jake felt the similar chill of the ice arena hit his lungs. It smelled like ice and sweat and something else he couldn't name but remembered from every hockey rink he'd ever been in.
The locker room was chaos. Guys were getting dressed, taping sticks, and talking trash like they'd known each other forever. Jake found the loaner equipment and tried not to think about how many people had wore it before him.
"You Sullivan?" asked a guy with shoulders that could probably carry a small car.
"Yeah."
"Heard you're supposed to be good."
"We'll see."
The guy looked him up and down like he was evaluating livestock. "I'm Brad. I play defense. Try not to embarrass yourself out there."
"I'll do my best."
Twenty minutes later, Jake was on the ice for the first time in two years. For about thirty seconds, he felt like a newborn giraffe trying to figure out how legs worked.
The muscle memory then kicked in.
He took a lap around the rink, getting used to the feeling of ice again. It came back faster than he'd expected - the rhythm of his stride, the way his edges bit into the ice, perfect balance between speed and control.
"Looking good, Sullivan!" Peterson shouted from behind the bench.
They started with basic drills - skating, puck handling, passing. Jake felt rusty at first, but with each drill, more of his old skills came back. Alex was in a different league entirely, moving like he was born on skates and making plays that looked effortless.
"Jesus," Jake muttered, watching Alex thread a pass through three defenders like it was nothing.
"That's just Tuesday for him," Kevin said, skating up beside Jake. "Kid's gonna be in the NHL in two years, guaranteed."
By the time they moved to scrimmage, Jake was feeling almost like his old self, but seeing Alex play was humbling as hell.
Peterson split them into two teams for a short game. Jake ended up on a line with Alex and some guy named Kevin who looked like he could bench press a truck.
"Just play your game," Alex said as they lined up for the opening faceoff, his Finnish accent more noticeable when he was focused. "Back home, we say 'let the ice tell you what to do.' Don't overthink it."
The puck dropped, and Jake's world narrowed to the ice, players, and the black disk sliding across the surface. He'd forgotten how much he loved this - the speed, the strategy, the way everything else disappeared when he was playing.
Five minutes in, he got his first scoring chance. The puck came to him in the slot, and without thinking, he fired a wrist shot that caught the top corner of the net.
The rink went quiet for a second.
"Holy shit," someone said.
"Nice shoot, rook," Brad called out, and Jake could hear something like respect in his voice.
The scrimmage continued, and Jake found himself settling into the game more and more. He scored twice more and assisted on another goal, playing with a confidence he'd almost forgotten he had. Alex was something else entirely though - every shift he was on ice, something magical happened. The guy had vision that was almost supernatural.
"Fuck me, that kid's too good," Brad muttered after Alex set up another perfect scoring chance.
When Peterson finally blew the whistle to end tryouts, Jake was sweating and breathing hard and feeling more like himself than he had since arriving at college. Alex skated over, barely breathing hard despite dominating the entire scrimmage.
"Not bad, American boy," Alex said with a grin. "You've got good hands."
"Not bad, Sullivan," Peterson said as Jake skated over to the bench. "Not bad at all."
"Thanks, Coach."
"You'll hear from us by tomorrow." Peterson paused. "But between you and me, start looking for some gear."
In the locker room afterward, the atmosphere was different. Guys who had been sizing him up earlier were now talking to him like he belonged there.
"Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" Brad asked while unlacing his skates.
"Just played a lot growing up."
"High school must've been a joke for you."
"Something like that."
Alex sat down next to him, pulling off his helmet and running a hand through sweat-soaked blonde hair. "You're gonna make this team, no question. That was some of the best hockey I've seen at tryouts in years."
"Thanks, man. You're pretty incredible out there yourself."
Alex shrugged like it was nothing. "In Finland, if you're not good enough for the national junior team by sixteen, you might as well quit. I've been training six hours a day since I was twelve." He grinned. "American hockey is like vacation for me."
"Jesus. No wonder you make it look easy."
"Easy?" Alex laughed. "Nothing about hockey is easy. But when you love something enough, the hard parts become worth it." He stood up and grabbed his gear. "Fair-warning though - making the team is just the beginning. Peterson runs practices like we're training for the Olympics."
Jake nodded, but he was barely listening. His phone was buzzing with messages from people who'd apparently heard about tryouts through the campus gossip network.
Sophie: how did it go?
Tyler: dude everyone's talking about how good you were
Emma: proud of you for trying out!
Danny:told you so. Pizza tonight to celebrate?
And one from a number he didn't recognize:
Unknown:heard you killed it at hockey tryouts. impressive - Ashley
Jake stared at that last message for a long moment. He'd been so focused on Sophie that he'd almost forgotten about Ashley's texts. Almost.
His phone rang - Sophie calling.
"Hey," he answered.
"Hey yourself, hockey star. How'd it go?"
"Better than I expected, actually. Think I might have a shot at making the team."
"That's amazing! I'm so proud of you."
Something warm spread through Jake's chest at the genuine excitement in her voice.
"Want to celebrate?" she asked. "There's this little Italian place downtown that's supposed to be good."
"Like... a date?"
Sophie laughed. "Yeah, Jake. Like a date."
"Then hell yeah."
After they hung up, Jake sat in the empty locker room for a few minutes, trying to process everything. The morning's he'd been just another freshman trying to figure out college. Now he was potentially a varsity athlete with a date with the girl he was pretty sure he was falling for.
His phone buzzed again.
Ashley: dinner tomorrow? my treat
Jake stared at the message, then put his phone away without responding. Some things could wait.
Right now, he had a celebration dinner to get ready for.