~KIMBERLY'S POV~

Coach O kept his promise and showed no mercy. Even though my legs were sore and there were days when I couldn't even move out of my bed, I am thankful.

The feeling of thankfulness grows even bigger inside of me when I step out of a bus and see countless men gathering in front of an ice arena in Colorado.

"Need some help with that?" the bus driver yells from his seat, referring to my big-ass hockey bag and a duffel bag.

"I can handle it, thank you very much!" I answer and grab my stick before it falls.

When the bus drives away, I realize this is it. I really left my home, my university and my team to try my luck in Colorado, even though I have a feeling I stand no chance.

Taking a deep breath, I force my legs to make a step forward, closer to the arena. And the fear I am feeling cannot be described. What was I thinking? Those are grown up man, who probably played countless games, spent hours and hours in gyms and worked out. What am I compared to them? Sure, I do work out regularly, but their structure is something completely different than mine. Lost in my thoughts, I bump into one of the players and nearly fall back.

"Hey, watch out, man!"
"Uh, I am sorry," I start backing up, when he speaks up: "Wait a second. You don't sound like a dude."

I pull the hood off my head and smile at the stranger: "Because I am not."

He takes a step back, clearly in shock: "What is a girl doing on the tryouts for the Olympic Team?"

"The same thing like the rest of you. Trying my luck."

"Whoa, you are brave," he smiles and moves his stick from one hand to another and stretches his right arm: "Neal Broten,. And you are?"

"Kimberly Mayfield. Nice to meet you, Neal."
"Same back to you. "
"So, Neal, where do you play?"

"University of Minnesota. What about you?"
"Ah, Golden Gophers? I study at Brown University."

"That's cool! How did you find out about the try outs?"
"My coach back at the University told me about them. Actually, he offered me this opportunity. And you?"
"Well, Brooks is also a coach back at the U, so..."
"So you have a bit of advantage here?"

"Naah, not when it comes to Brooks. He never makes differences. Uh, what position do you play?"
"Left wing. Let me guess, you are also a forward?"

"How did you guess? I am center, actually."
"Lucky guess," I laugh, but my laughter dies as soon as we enter the arena. The place is full of hopeful young hockey players, waiting to be called and chatting. I've never felt more like a black sheep than right now.

"Hey, Strobel!" Neal next to me calls someone's name and turns to me: "Come on, follow me."

"Well, I don't really know anyone so... okay," I follow him to the area where a bunch of guys, wearing at least one piece of clothing with the M, is. Neal gently pulls me to his side and smiles: "Guys, this is Kimberly from Brown University."
"Broten, you got a girl," one of them laughs and smiles at you: "Eric Strobel."

"Kimberly Mayfield. And Neal and I have just met few minutes ago. You could ask differently if I am single," I wink and chuckle at Eric whose face is now dark red. The rest of his friends start laughing at him and one of them pats my back: "Got him good. Steve Janazsak, goalie."

"Hi. I am Kimberly. Left-winger. Nice to meet you."

"Brown University, uh?"

"Yeah. I guess you are a Gopher?"

"From head to toe. What are you doing here, if you don't mind?"

With a deep sigh, I start explaining: "Well, my coach at the university thought I am good enough to try and make the team. Before you remind me, I know this is men's team, but I said I'd try..."
"I must say you are brave. Have you signed in already?"

"Nope. Where do I do that?"

He points his finger in the direction of a sign-in table, where a group of men is gathered, all of them holding papers in his hands: "Right over there. And they'll give you more directions."
"Thank you very much," I thank him with a wide smile and pull Neal's sleeve: "You comin'?"

"Where?" he turns to me and leans his head on the side. I point at the table: "We have to sign in..."
"Oh, I'll go there later. Just a minute."

"Fine," I sigh and head there on my own. Since my hoodie is like my shield, as soon as I am away from the guys from University of Minnesota, I cover myself with a hood. I squeeze myself through the mass of bodies and find myself behind a tall, broad-shouldered blonde, who is too busy flirting with the girl at the registration desk to notice he is not the only one here.

"Can you move? Please?" I sigh and half expect him to ignore me, but he doesn't.

That's how I met Jack O'Callahan, the guy who I will hate for the good amount of time...

~JACK'S POV~

First thing I notice when I walk into the Colorado Arena, where the tryouts are taking place, is a bunch of Minnesotan players. From University of Minnesota and University of Minnesota- Duluth. Great. Someone really thinks that's funny. I huff as I walk past a few of them and look around.

"O'Callahan!" I hear someone call my name and turn around. A grin appears on my face: "Dave Silk.  How are you, man?"

"Can't complain. What about you? Did you see that, how many guys from Minnesota is here?"
"Someone has a great sense of humor. Or is just a sadist. This will get interesting."

"Who are you planning to beat?"

I look at my friend and teammate and grin slyly: "Who said anything about beating?"
"You are Jack O'Callahan, the Charlestown Killer, the guy who always drops his gloves first. Logic."
"Maybe I've changed."
"Yes, for sure. If you changed, I am married," Silky laughs and slaps my shoulder. I let my bag slide off my shoulder and place my stick right onto it: "Anyone else from BU here?"
"I've heard Eruzione was called from Toledo. But haven't seen him yet."
"Rizzo will be here?

"Yeah. But I wanna know how is that possible?"

"He is a good player, but I doubt he'd make the final roster."
Speaking of Mike Eruzione..."OC! Silky!"

We both turn around and see twenty-four-year-old from Winthrop, Mass., waving at us.

"Rizzo!" I return him a wave and take a closer look of him when he joins us. We were teammates during my first year and back then he was just like any other college hockey player. But now he is a player, who plays for IHL's Toledo Goaldiggers, minor professional hockey club in Toledo, Ohio.

"Hello, Rizz," Silky smiles and shakes his hand. Rizzo smiles at both of us: "Excited to be here?"
"Lightly said. What about you, OC?"
"Eh," I smile and continue, "What is the worst thing that could happen? Not making the team?"

Words I say are utterly opposite from what I really feel. I am nervous and the thought of not being picked makes my heart beat go insane. Words can't describe how much I want to play at the Olympic games, to show Boston has great players.

"You are joking right now, aren't you?"

"No, Silky, really. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You two guys still have some good years to play..."
"What are you talking about? You are twenty-four."

"I am thinking of hanging the skates for good."

His words shock me, I admit. I've never thought he'd say that. From what I heard during my college years, he was a great player and even from my own experiences from sharing the locker room with him I can tell he can play explosive game if he wants to.

"But that doesn't matter now. We are here and we will try to show our best. Have you two signed in already?"

"I have. OC?"

"Nah, not yet. You, Rizzo?"
"Yeah, I have. You better hurry up, OC."

With a slight roll of my eyes, I approach the desk and smile: "Jack O'Callahan, 21, Boston University."

Cutie, who works there passes me my accreditation and says without a single emotion: "Go over there, you'll get your number and a towel."

"Can I get your number?" I try again and flash her the flirtiest smile. She looks up at me and sighs: "Get lost, not my type."

I shake my head, trying to comprehend what has just happened, before I hear someone sigh behind my back: "Can you move? Please?"

I look down and see someone with a hood over his head. Pretty small, also. I move away and before I join Silky and Rizzo, I hear him say: "Kimberly Mayfield, 19, Brown University."

Kimberly? What kind of name is that? I take a quick glimpse at a petite figure and it hits me. "He" is not a dude, it's a girl!

Her hood slips off her head and long, thick blonde hair cover her face. Shaking my head in disbelief, I go back to Rizzo and Silky, who are now in a company of another player from Boston, Ralph Cox, who is one of the players from University of New Hampshire.

"If isn't that Jack O'Callahan!" Coxy laughs and pats my back.

"If isn't that Ralph Cox! How are you, man?"

"Can't complain. What about you?"
"Same here. Listen, guys, would you believe me if I told you there is a girl signed in for the tryouts?"

"No," they say at the same time. Silky continues: "Are you sure she is here for the tryouts? She could be one of the players' girlfriend?"

I point my finger at her: "A hockey bag, hanging from her shoulder and a stick? I don't think so. And I've just heard her sign in. She stood right behind me."

"Did you take a good look of her?" Silk smirks and I laugh at his question: "Why are you even asking? She's hot, I am telling you."

"Well...ask her if she needs help or something?" he suggests, his smirk bigger and bigger with every second passing.

She'll probably not make it, so why not, I think for my self and my lips curve into a confident cocky smile as I approach her. She has a bit of troubles with holding her bag, stick, towel and her number, so I try that approach: "Hey, hottie, need some help with your things?"

"No, thank you, I am fine," she rejects politely, looking in her backpack and apparently looking for something.

"You seem kinda lost. Let me help you."

She looks up at me, her brown-green eyes locking with mine blue ones and she repeats: "I am fine, thank you. I can handle it myself."

"Aw, it's nothing wrong with admitting you have a problem with all those things occupying your pretty hands, sweetie," I mock. Her eyes darken and she nearly spits: "You should get lost."

If a guy said that, I'd hit him with no hesitation. My palm starts feeling oddly tickly and I brawl it in a fist, a weak attempt to keep myself under control and not hit her.

"What did you say?" I ask, trying to sound as calm as possible, but the blood in my veins is close to the breaking point.

"I said you are the one who should get lost," she pushes past me and leaves me with my anger. Before joining the rest of Bostonians, I take a deep breath and try to comprehend what has just happened.

"Didn't go as planned?" Silky asks when I get to them.

"She told me to get lost."

Silk's eyes widen in shock, Rizzo's mouth are open wide while Coxy just stares at me: "And you didn't hit her?"

"I was close. But I've never hit a girl. Has that really just happened to me?"

"Apparently did. And how does it feel being rejected?" Rizzo grins and I glare daggers at him: "Don't push it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"She is gonna pay for it. I just hope she makes the team and I will make her life a living hell. She's gonna wish she'd never showed up here, that's what I promise, boys."