My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy

Cheryl

After a few hours of tossing around on my bed last night, I was finally able to sleep until my alarm pulled me up again. Fuck. I barely got any sleep.

I dragged myself upright, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. My head was throbbing.

I hated school. Well, except for the journalist part of my activity I got to do because I get to watch the hockey boys and interview them. That part I actually loved.

My camera was the only thing that made me feel invisible in school, I could watch Carlson all I wanted.

I've interviewed every single player on the team. Every single one except him.

I had just one week.

If I could interview Carlson and analyze him, his plays, his patterns, his strengths and weaknesses... and if Dad saw it, if the school saw it, then maybe I could secure my place.

But to do that, I needed to summon the courage to interview him.

The one person I'd been avoiding for years.

I tossed myself off the bed, walking towards my little bathroom when I noticed my door was open.

I froze.

I always make sure my door is locked before I sleep. Every night I check it twice-once before I get into bed, and once after I've settled in. It's a habit born from living with Celeste, who has no concept of boundaries and even less respect for my privacy.

Who could have...

My eyes went wide.

Celeste!!

I dove for my nightstand, yanking open the drawer. My fingers went through the mess of old loose papers and empty notebooks, searching desperately.

There was nothing.

My drawer was empty and my journal was fucking gone.

"No, no, no, no, no-"

I went through everything. I flipped my mattress, sending my pillows flying across the room.

I dumped my entire backpack onto the floor, scattering things everywhere. I opened my closet, throwing clothes aside, checking every pocket of every jacket.

My journal was truly gone.

I felt sick as my hands started shaking so bad I could barely grip the edge of my dresser.

She took it. That bitch actually took my journal.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God-"

I ran out of my room and down the stairs. Everywhere was so quiet meaning everyone was gone already.

My parents were already gone, too, probably dropping Celeste off at her precious game.

I spun around, my eyes darting frantically around the living room. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find... a pair of flower printed leggings that definitely weren't mine and an oversized hoodie.

I pulled them on without even caring how mismatched I looked.

I grabbed my bag, not bothering to check if I had everything.

Jogging down the road, I knew I probably looked like a crazy person with wild brown loose hair.

I needed to catch up with her before she exposed everything.

As I stepped into the school gate darting for the hallway, I heard people whispering behind their hands while some had their phones up recording me.

I kept my head down and my hands covering my face as I rushed inside the school.

I wasn't looking where I was going. I just wanted to get inside, and disappear into a classroom and hide all fucking day.

I kept running with tears threatening to fall down my cheek. I couldn't believe Celeste would do that to me.

I kept running until I crashed into something hard and my head hit a very solid manly chest, and I stumbled back, my hands flying out to catch myself.

I closed my eyes, ready to hit the floor, when strong hands grabbed my arms, steadying me before I could fall.

I looked up while relaxing myself from the arms that caught me immediately.

Carlson.

His gray eyes locked onto mine with his dark hair all messy, falling across his forehead in that way that always made my stomach flip and I suddenly wished I didn't get up so quick from those warm arms.

He was close to my face and I recognized that Bleu de Chanel cologne he always uses.

He stared right back at me with his jaw tight, parting his lips like he wanted to say something while I stood there eager to hear what he wanted to say.

"Carlson! We're gonna be late!" One of his teammates, Remy, grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back.

Carlson didn't move, his eyes were fixed on me.

"Bro, come on!"

He blinked before letting go of my arms and stepped back.

He didn't say anything anymore but turned and walked away with his friends.

I stood there frozen, my heart beating so hard until I heard mean voices behind my back.

"Looks like someone's desperate for attention."

I turned so fast to see Celeste and her best friend beside her, while some others gathered and I could see them with their phones up again.

"Did you see that? Exactly what I was talking about," Celeste said to Megan. "She literally threw herself at him."

Megan snorted.

I tried to walk away, maybe toward the bathroom, where they wouldn't hover around me. But Megan stepped in front of me, blocking my path with her bony shoulder.

"Wait, wait," she said, holding up a hand. "I have a question. When you wrote about him fucking you, were you like-" She made a crude gesture, pumping her hand up and down near her crotch. "-shaking like a dying fish while you wrote it? Probably using your tears to oil your pussy cause you know he'll never ever lay his hands on you."

Celeste and the rest of the people burst out laughing.

"She'd probably die if he actually touched her," Celeste said, clutching her chest like she was genuinely concerned. "Or her heart would give out from the shock and she would cum on the spot like the desperate little whore she is."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Good, Carlson is the hockey captain and only fits for someone of his league. Which is Celeste. So stay out of your sister's lane and stop trying to steal her spotlight."

"If that was so, I wonder why she hasn't been seen with Carlson either. It seems like someone of his league rejected her, right Celeste?"

"You-"

She stepped forward with her hand raised as if to punch me when she stopped, then sashayed past me tossing her hair over her shoulder while her friends and minions trailing behind her like a pack of hyenas.

I stood there, my back leaning against the lockers.

I didn't bother to think about going to class anymore as the hockey arena was my only safe space for now. I wanted to keep myself busy and not think of my sister's bullying.

I had to film the team's practice for my analysis work.

I pushed open the heavy door to the arena and the rink was empty.

No one was here yet for practice.

Good. I needed a moment to breathe.

I walked toward the bench where I usually set up my equipment, my bag over my shoulder.

I blinked hard, forcing the tears away.

Stealing your sister's spotlight.

No one knew that Celeste actually stole my spotlight when we were kids.

Hockey has always been my passion. I'd always loved it. Always dreamed of it.

I pulled out my camera and laptop as I recalled memories of that day when I was on the rink playing with other kids and Celeste and her friends shoved me down and I got my ankle injured.

Since then I've never got to play as my therapist had said. Now I have to settle down to be a journalist.

I opened my laptop when rough hands covered my eyes.

My first instinct was to scream but another palm was over my mouth, making my screams turn to muffles.

I thrashed wildly, my heart beating so hard.

Another set of hands grabbed my arms, yanking them behind my back so hard my shoulders popped.

"Fast," I heard a deep male voice growling. "Steal all her analyst equipment. We need to be quick so we don't disappoint ma'am."

I tried to bite the hand covering my mouth.

"Bitch," the voice hissed. "Hold her still."

Someone else grabbed my hair, yanking my head back so hard I saw stars.

I couldn't tell how many they were at this point. But what do they want from me?

Tears spilled from my eyes as I almost gave up struggling.

I felt them grab my camera, my laptop, everything. They yanked cords out of the wall, threw my bag aside, and started shoving everything into a duffel bag.

"Stop!" I tried to scream. "Please–"

The door to the arena burst open.

"Hey!"

I heard a familiar voice and the hands let go of my eyes, my mouth. Literally my whole face.

Carlson rushed in with Remy at his back.

The men shoved me down until my knees hit the ground.

"Go! Go!" one of them yelled.

They scrambled toward the back exit, jumping over the fence.

Carlson was already running toward the back door. "Remy! Alert security! Now!"

Then he turned back to me.

He crouched down, his hands reaching for me.

"Cheryl," he said softly. "Are you okay?"