The Ice Life

"Ah, Oilers, welcome. Right on time." Tyler's long blonde hair was pulled back into a sensible ponytail and donned hockey skates, a stick and hockey gloves. Unlike the boys, however, she wore a plain black tracksuit and she moved a little too swiftly and looked a little too cheerful for it to be 5:27 AM. "Jordan Eberle," she said, making the sleepy forward's head shoot up with attention. "Is there a problem?"

"No m'am, just a bit early don't you think?"

"I hope we aren't inconveniencing you Mr. Eberle. Do tell me, what time does your team normally practice that seems to be more suitable for you?"

"Ummm... I dunno like around 10:00ish."

"Well Jordan, considering you team's not so stellar performance in recent seasons, I would say a change of scene might be a positive thing, wouldn't you?"

Jordan gulped, feeling the brun of her comment. She happily skated up to Taylor Hall and Ryan Nugent-Hopkins.

"Mr. Hall, Mr. Nugent-Hopkins," she said, addressing the both of them, "you'll have to forgive me, I couldn't help myself but find out what could possibly be so special about the first draft picks from 2010 and 2011. Tell me gentlemen, is this a scheme?"

Taylor's voice shook slightly as he answered her question with another. "I'm sorry m'am, but what scheme?" he asked politely.

"Do the Edmonton Oilers intentionally come in last place every year so they can get the first draft picks or do you guys really just suck that much?"

Ryan's mouth hung open. She skated towards the goalie who was preparing himself in the net.

"And finally it's the goalie who came in 45th in the league last season, give it up for Nikolai Khabibulin. Nik...can I call you Nik? is it true that you had a .890 save percentage?" she made a tisk tisk noise with her mouth and shook her head. "Center ice gentlemen...NOW!"

The three forwards made their way to center ice as fast as their skates could possibly bring them.

"I'm sorry Mr. Khabibulin, unless there is something you would like to share with us about a reason why you do not qualify under the category of 'gentleman' I suggest you get your Russian ass over to center ice now."

The goalie's eyes became as wide as dinner plates as he shuffled awkwardly across the ice in all his goalie pads. Once he had made it to center ice she started to speak again.

"Now," she began, "a few quick pointers are that you are not to call me m'am or Ms. Cunningham or whatever. I'm probably younger than most of you, or at least around your age, you will call me Tyler and only Tyler. That doesn't mean I'm your friend, your buddy or anything like that. Now, let's get working."



"COME ON LADIES PUSH IT!"

Ryan and Jordan were attempting to be defenders for Taylor who was in goal, while Nikolai skated up with the puck trying to get a shot in. Nikolai was stick handling, trying to get past Ryan and the two of them slammed into each other and fell over laughing.

Tyler checked the clock, it read 5:27 PM. "Alright. Go change, shower, be much more useful to your team than you have been in the past. It's been somewhat of a pleasure, goodnight boys."

Tyler could hear Jordan complaining about how he couldn't feel his legs after they thanked her and began to shuffle off the ice. She turned on her skates and snagged a puck that was floating around.

"RIGHT POST!" she yelled, testing herself, and shot the puck perfectly, giving a satisfying clinking sound as it hit the post. "LEFT POST!" Another puck sailed effortlessly from her stick to the left post. "CROSS BAH!" she called and sent one last one right into the crossbar.

"Damn," came a voice from behind, "not bad."

She spun around to find Taylor standing there, changed out of his hockey pads and into just a track suit like hers and his skates. She shrugged.

"Was that a Boston accent I heard slip out?" he teased.

"I'm from Boston."

"Another piece of the Tyler Cunningham puzzle of mystery has been found! Questions become answers! What will we find out next?" he said in a TV announcer style type voice, and holding an invisible microphone to his face.

"I'm not a mystery," she replied bluntly, "people are just too afraid to ask."

Taylor quickly stole the puck hanging off her stick. "So are the girls in Boston all as pretty as you?"

"Funny."

"I'm serious, you're gorgeous."

"Listen Hall, I'm not just one of those stupid puck bunnies who's taken in by the fact that you play hockey and you're attractive. If you think..."

But she didn't get to finish, Taylor skated up to her and closed the space between them placing a long sweet kiss on her lips. When he pulled away he continued to hold her close. "I'm not gonna lie I'm a little afraid of you, but it almost makes you that much more attractive."

"I have to go," she told him, not addressing what he had just said.

His face fell. "Here's my number," he handed her a small sheet of ripped paper, "call me sometime?"

"Perhaps Mr. Hall." She smirked at him and skated off the ice.