Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The summer sun broke through my curtains as my alarm screeched. The dust particles in my room seemed to sparkle when the light hit them just right. I began to stretch out on my bed like a cat to wake my sleeping bones. I stretched my arms, searching to find the off button on my clock. When the awful sound finally stopped, I looked towards the clock telling me it was 6:45am. Our first practice back after the summer break started at 8am. I rubbed my eyes in the hopes that by doing that, I would feel less tired before my workout. I normally tried to get to the practice rink early just so I could skate laps by myself.

But for some reason, this morning the thought of leaving my bed seemed impossible. "Maybe a few more minutes," I said as I rolled over on to my side pulling the covers over my head. Too bad my dad didn't hear me.

"Wakey, wakey! Eggs and Bakey!" Dad came barging in my room with a plate of deliciousness. The sweet smells of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon filtered through my nose instantly making my stomach grumble.

"Sweetie, it's the most wonderful of the year and I know you don't want to be late!" He made his way next to my bed and began shaking my shoulder. "Up, up, up! Let's go!" He prompted.

The thought of getting up still haunted me. I slid down farther into my cave of covers. "Give me a few more minutes," I mumbled into my pillow.

I heard my dad huff, probably coming up with a diabolical plan to try and get me out of bed. This is our normal routine. If you couldn't already tell, I'm not what you call a "morning person". That's what I have my dad for. He's enough of a morning person for the both of us.

On practice days, dad cooks a huge breakfast. We needed all the energy we could get, he says. Some of the players would join us, depending on the nights they had before. Our main conversations would consist of my dad making fun of the guys because I had beaten them racing or making fun of their screw ups in a game. Our team felt more like a family, something not many teams can say.

Ever since I learned how to skate, I would be out on the ice with the boys. It was so much fun racing against them. They would let me win when I was little to make me feel better about myself. But when I got older, I got faster. I started beating them on my own with no special treatment. Once I did, they can never live it down. I have to give them credit though. When I beat them, they congratulated me with a smile.

"Alright Angelica, you leave me no choice," he sighed as he left the room. I huffed with relief over my recent victory. I snuggled deeper into my pillow allowing sleep to cloud my head once again.

Suddenly, I heard pounding feet on my staircase. Before I could get up and react, my door swung open.

Four 250 lbs. hockey players jumped on my bed, a few ended up landing on me. I groaned at the added weight. 
Typical, my dad recruited the goons to take on the task of getting me out of bed.

"Wake up, hockey princess! It's our first practice of the season! We need a good a*s whipping from our hockey goddess!" I heard Giroux whine. He was such a dork.
He is the captain of our team and plays center forward but sometimes he plays on the wings. He was one of the most genuine and hard working men I know.

My bed kept moving up and down as each player jumped. I was getting slightly annoyed with the adults, excuse me, children's attempt in getting me out of bed. As much as it killed me, it was sort of working.

Provorov, one of our defensemen, tore the covers from over my head while Simmonds, another forward, opened my curtains letting the sun spill in.

"Ah! The light! It burns!" I yelled trying to grab my covers back so I could hide in the darkness.

"Come on A, you don't want the rest of the team thinking you've gone soft, do you?" Provorov taunted.

I groaned. These guys knexactly how to push my buttons and get a rise out of me.

I know I'm eventually gonna get up, but a part of me hoped today would be different. I was still feeling sad about the failed date last night, but I'd never say that out loud. The guys knew about it and I hate having to explain about ANOTHER failure.

I huffed in defeat, knowing there was no point in fighting with these guys unless we're on the ice. I swung my feet over my bed pushing myself up out of my comfy bed. Excited cheers broke out when my feet touched the floor.

"That's our girl!" Couturier yelled. "Plus we wanna see your reaction when you see the new guy. You'll swoon," he placed his hand over his forehead and pretended to faint. He was acting like a 13 year old girl who just saw Justin Bieber. ICK! EW! PUKE! Take your pick, I think the kid is over rated.

"Oh shut up. I have a feeling this one will be difficult to break." I thought aloud. It's something about man w****s that makes breaking them more difficult than the others. But I always love a challenge.

I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my curly hair sticking up in some places and matted down in others.

"Someone looks extra pretty this morning," Giroux's sarcastic tone ended my inspection. Conclusion, horrible.

I turned to the guys realizing I need to shower and start to get ready. I couldn't do that with them in my room, now could I?

"Can you guys get out of my room so I can grab a quick shower?" I asked placing a hand on my hip.

"Awwwwwwwwwww," the all whined.

"Can't we stay and watch?" Simmonds asked acting like a child again.

I waved my hand dismissively.

"I don't know what you've heard, but this show ain't free," I said pushing them out of my room. I shut the door, blocking out all their protests, begging to stay.

I headed into my bathroom locking the door behind me. I know the guys wouldn't do anything while my dad was here, but it never hurt to be too careful. One time, the guys dumped freezing water on me as I showered. I shivered at the thought. I turned on the water, letting it heat up before stepping in.

I stood there letting the hot water run down my body, relaxing all my tight mussels. I started to go over all the techniques I used on new players. They all needed to learn how to work as a team. It always happened when we got a new edition. The team dynamic had to be re-wired.

This was the first man w***e I was warned about by my dad and the players. It sounded like I needed a new strategy. The only way to do that, was to use the magical world of Google.

After I pulled on my favorite pair of Victoria Secret yoga pants with an orange fold flap and Flyers fleece jacket, I headed over to my laptop.

Wait, I didn't know his last name, that's sort of a problem. I stepped out of my room and hung half way over the banister.

"Dad, what's Trey's last name?" I yelled.

"Why? Wanna drool over his picture?" Giroux asked.

"I don't think he'll respond to my old methods. So I need to research him to know how to break him and make the process as fast and with as little pain as possible!"

"That's what she said,"Simmonds chuckled under his breath thinking I wouldn't hear.

"I heard that!"

"It's McLaferty," my dad finally cut in. I knew he was getting tired of our childish banter.

"Thanks!" I yelled over my shoulder, heading back to my computer.

When I typed in his name, a bunch of gossip sites popped up. They all said something about Trey being with another s****y socialite, or having a drunken night with his team. But only one was my favorite. It read "Trey McLaferty Had Sex With a Transvestite!" I cracked up at that one.

I scrolled through his personal instagram looking at many pictures of girls draped over him. Ten minutes into my research all I learned about this Trey dude was he loved to drink, party, and screw girls, or guys depending how many drinks he's had.

I decided to look at his stats to see if he's really worth the money the team spent on him. Plus, I needed to see his potential, how good my dad could make him.

He's been in the NHL since he was 18. In his career he's scored 197 goals, made 215 assists, and he's racked up 335 points. But his fighting record was out of this world. He's had at least one fight per game, getting 134 minutes in penalty box time. He'd played on three different teams for the past seven years.

Woah, ok he's good but not great. I seriously need to work on his temper though. Dad doesn't respond well to his players fighting. Since dad was named head coach, the Flyers had the least penalty minutes out of the whole league.

The board must know about his temper and my dads rule #38 never throw the first punch, walk away, let them come after you. That way, they're the ones that get the time if they choose to retaliate.

Now about his partying and girl obsessions. I'll have to make him at least give up the girls. We can't have bad publicity on our new player. It makes the organization seem weak that we can't control him.

I leaned back in my chair going over the steps to break Trey. Working on his temper meant shock therapy, one of my favorites. The partying every night meant threatening him not to, using his contract as the bait. It usually worked. And the girls, well if he's not partying then the girls are taken care of.

I went back to the tabloid sites to see if there is anything else I need to deal with, personality wise. All the hockey stuff I noticed, I told to the coaches.

As I scanned the page, one quote caught my eye.

"I can get any girl I want. They can't resist me!" Trey gloated. This was from an interview about it months ago.

I scoffed at his arrogance and narcism.

We'll see about that, I thought.

My eyes fell on my Flyers alarm clock. S**t, I'm running late.

I rushed to my straightener and turned it on, allowing it to heat up a bit so my hair would be super straight. I didn't want to waste anymore time since I spent more time doing research than I had originally planned.

I quickly applied enough mascara to make my lashes appear full and long. I never put on bronzer or foundation because I have a light natural tan, so why waste a good thing?

After my mascara looked close to perfection, I drew a brown line with my eye liner on my top lid, following the shape of my eyes. This made my blue/green eyes pop! I took a step back, admiring my work. I smiled, I looked good!

My yoga pants showed of my toned legs and lifted butt, my fleece was opened just enough to see my orange tank underneath with a little cleavage showing. I wouldn't call myself skinny, I prefer to say I'm curvy with a touch of thicc. To top it all off, my hair flowed down my back beautifully. It looked like wheat swaying in the wind with every step I took.

Trey will have no idea what hit him, I thought smugly.

When I made it into the kitchen a bunch of wolf whistles howled. I blushed at the attention, I wasn't used to it from these guys.

"Damn A, dressing up for Trey?" Giroux teased.

"Actually yes," the boys dropped the forks that were half way to their mouths when they heard my response.

"It's part of my strategy."

They still hadn't moved. This wasn't good.

"He thinks he can get any girl he wants just because of his looks and money. So, when he sees me, he'll want to pursue me. But he won't get any where because of my dads rule. Thus, knocking him down a few begs on the ego ladder." I finished. My dad just shook his head, understanding my reasoning for my sudden interest in my appearance. Don't get me wrong, I care about the way I look. I normally don't spend a lot of time on it, is all.

"Alright boys! Clean up or we'll be late! Angelica," he turned to face me with a giant grin on his face. He always got excited for the first practice of he season. It was like Christmas to him.

"Grab your skates and notebook," he reminded me. I always would forget it if he didn't.

"Try not to doodle 'T+A=4ever' too many times on the cover," Simmonds teased earning him a slap on the back his head. I shook my head and gathered my weapons for the war against Trey McLaferty. He would be broken, he would work well with this team, and his ego was going to shrink drastically.

He is going down!

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