Fake Dating Alpha Hockey Captain by Riley Above Story

hapter 24

Whatever happens with Danielle and Oliver isn’t anything I really care to pay attention to anymore. Their lives are theirs, and mine is here. Maybe they will now. finally leave me alone altogether.

I have enough on my plate as it is. Which, at this point, is about 80% the fact that, for the first time in four years, I’m going to be on stage. Moreover, I’m going on stage as a lead.

I feel like I’ve been doing pretty well, all things considered. Or, maybe, the drama club is doing really well.

Because no matter what I try, I can’t stop stuttering.

It’s something that’s always bothered me. Apparently, I was stuttering almost immediately as I learned how to speak.

Certain Ss and Rs always end up slithering and rolling from my lips. Even when I know the next word I want to say, sometimes my voice stops against my will, leaving my sentences incomplete. If I get tired enough, I’ll just say individual words and hope that gets the point across.

But the thing about being on stage is, well, abridging to that degree could very well change the entire play. It can lead people to misunderstanding or completely missing the message the writer was trying to portray. Though, of course, with this being some werewolf fantasy story, the message just seems to be ‘werewolf hot,’ but whatever.

Anyway, the drama club is doing really well because they’ve, thus far, not expressed any irritation that I keep stuttering over my lines. Or, if they do, they at least don’t yell at me for it.

But I’m yelling at me for it. Because

mver seems to have gotten worse.

“That’sss the way I sss-ss-see it. Lynus. If you don’t go back. To your pack now,

when they need you mosss-sst. Most. Then…what can they. Do. What can they do? Who can they rrr-rely on?”

“Aaand cut.”

I’m on stage with Alex now, doing our final stage practice to try and get

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accustomed to being here. He’s in his outfit, a torn T-shirt and jeans ripped at the knees, a worn leather jacket covering his shoulders. And I’m in a nurse outfit, like, the scrubs an actual nurse would wear.

The club president claps his hands together twice to get our attention.

“Alright, okay work. Cynthia, great line recall. Though, is it possible to do something to lessen the stuttering?”

“Uhm…I can trrry to sss-speak slower?”

“Then, let’s try repeating the lines with you doing that, alright?”

“Ahh…okay…”

“Alright, repeat the last line, in character.”

He clapped twice again before sitting down. While the drama teacher has been out on maternity leave, he’s been the one taking the most care of everything. But she’ll be coming back for the performance, so everyone wants it to be perfect.

I want it to be perfect, too, though I know that can’t happen. Perfection is unattainable. That doesn’t mean we can’t try.

I breathe in deeply and try again, fingers clenching the front of my scrubs.

“That’s…the way I…see it-”

My voice cuts out. A forced pause. The eyes from the surveying club members start to drill into my skin.

“…Lynus, if you don’t…”

Again.

“…If you don’t go back to your pack now, when they need you mossst…

There’s no point in trying to correct it. I’m not even sure if I can.

I open my mouth, trying to shove the next words out my throat.

But instead, all that comes out is a wheeze.

I try again, but when my breath sucks in, it doesn’t come back out, and I find

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myself choking on it.

“Hey, we’ll take five.”

Breathing in makes my throat close up, and my eyes shoot wide, realizing I can’t breathe. But before I can struggle, Alex is there, shielding me from the lights and the pinprick gazes piercing into my skin.

As we stumble off, I distantly hear someone say something about disaster. But it’s hard to tell when my ears start ringing. I think I hear some sort of deep, rumbling growl, too, but I’m not sure.

I’m ushered into a dark room. I crumple to the ground and curl in a ball, gasping.

My fingers clench my top, over my chest.

My lungs keep squeezing.

Nothing’s coming in.

Someone’s saying something.

I’m pulled up from my crouching position.

Someone hugs me.

I stiffen at first, wanting to scream.

I can’t breathe, but my nose is working.

It fills with the scent of pine.

After a few minutes of hearing Alex’s heartbeat, I finally calm down. I hadn’t. recognized that he’d been rocking us side to side a bit, but I don’t have the heart to feel embarrassed by that.

“What happened? Do you….want to talk about it?” he asks.

I’m tempted to shake my head and just ignore everything… But I’ve gone and dragged him into my mess. It would be unfair to close him out now.

“I’m going to fail.”

“Huh?”

I keep my gaze down at my knees.

“I’m going to fail, Alex. I’m going to be bad. This was ss a bad idea.”

Leaning away from him, I look up and see his concerned gaze searching mine.

“I shouldn’t have sss-signed up to do this. I’m gonna be really bad. I can’t even get thrrr-through practice without f ucking up, ssso how-”

“Did you know that I used to suck at hockey?”

I pause, blinking at him.

He settles down, getting off his knees and sitting on the floor in front of me with his legs crossed.

“I was super freakin’ bad at it. Like, skating? That part came easy. But actually learning how to move the stick, learning and following the rules…well, you already know I’m not good at following rules, so…” He shrugs. “Still, it took me a lot to actually get good at the game. But the thing that got me to get better was, er…” His eve

eyes trail

trail up

to the ceiling as he tries to think.

“I think the thing that got me into it was the teamwork. I mean, rules? Bleh. But I like people. I like working with people, talking with them, creating things with them, y’know? So when I really started thinking about the teamwork rather than the rules, I started getting better at the game. Now, even though I p iss off sometimes, I’m still the captain for a reason.”

He leans back, putting his hands on the floor for support.

my coach

“So….maybe what you need now is a change in perspective. Something that helps you shift your thoughts from whatever you see the stage as now to something that’ll be more comfortable. Or, like, whatever it is that’s bothering you. So I guess I’ll ask that. What bothers you most about being out there?”

It doesn’t take me long to think of the

answer.

“I….don’t…like to be judged. Don’t want to be. Cause it’ll…I’m not good at this.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that, Alex scratches at his cheek. “I’m still having a bit of

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trouble remembering lines, but you’ve got them down for sure. But the judging part…I mean. You used to enjoy being on stage. So why are you afraid of

judgement now?”

Many reasons.

Because the more I stand out, the more I’m seen. That draws attention to me. That makes me a target.

That allows others to find and hurt me.

I say none of this to him, so he continues.

“Then…how about….what did you enjoy most about it?”

..That’s also quite easy to answer.

“It’s…fun.”

“Fun! Right. So. Do you think the folks in the crowd are there to judge you or just have fun?”

“People alwaysss judge otherrr-s,” I grumble.

“That didn’t stop us from doing what we are now, y’know. In fact, that fueled it. So, maybe…could you think of this play like our teamwork thing?”

He shrugs again, like it’s simple.

“Different stage, same skillset.”