Everyone Has Stories

I ignored the Italian at the other end of the ice, and the occasional crack against the glass from his missed shots.

“Dammit!” He cursed roughly, the stick smacking onto the frozen liquid. If he didn’t want my attention before, he certainly had it now. I glanced over at him, fidgeting with his head gear, before ripping the strap off, jerking his protection off, and dropping it to the ice.

“You’re female.” I couldn’t help but blurt out. SHE froze mid-skate, fromgoing to pick up the pucks, and twisted to me.

“Do you have a problem with that?” She spat in thick Italian. Tossing the few pucks she had retrieved near center ice, she picked her stick back up, and went back to shooting.

Only after a few moments of waiting and watching the brunette, did I speak again. “Not in particular. Just surprised.” She paused, maybe in confusion of my knowing Italian, but furthered herself back into shooting. A sharp ting filled our ears, as the puck hit the goal post. “Relax your left hand. You’re loosing control of your stick.”

She huffed, before furrowing her brow, and taking another shot. Oddly enough, I felt a surge of pride fill my chest, as the rubber hit the back of the net.

“Thanks, I guess.”