Chapter 144 In Sync

Chapter 144 In Sync
The afternoon sun leaked through the frosted glass, scattering soft light over the fresh ice. The senior rink was already perfect—boards polished, lines crisp, not a scrape to be seen.

Jack threw the door open first, bag slung over one shoulder. Luca trailed behind, balancing his stick and zipping up his jacket as he walked.

Jay and Noah appeared seconds later, trading groans about the wind outside.

Jack dropped his gear near the penalty box and leaned against the boards. “At least it’s warm in here.”

Luca set his bag down quietly. Noah flopped onto the bench with a thud. Before their skates were even halfway on, Luca’s eyes had already found Noah’s open textbook. He leaned in with that familiar competitive glint.

Noah didn’t even look up. “Who contributed most to the development of the modern periodic table?”

Luca snorted, already annoyed. “Mendeleev.”

Noah shook his head. “See, you always pick the obvious answer.”

Luca grabbed the book right out of his hands and jabbed at a paragraph in bold type. “It’s literally there.”

Noah leaned over, eyebrows raised. “That’s not what I asked.”

“It is exactly what you asked.”

“No. You answered what you thought I asked.”

Luca shot him a look. “That’s because you explain things terribly.”

Jay, only half-lacing a skate, glanced at Jack, pure resignation on his face. Jack met his eyes, the two of them wordlessly bracing for familiar chaos.

Jack mutters, “They gonna do this all day?”

Jay sighs, dropping onto the bench. “Every time, man.”

Jack stretches out his legs and takes a long swig from his bottle. “How’s this fun for them?”

Jay laughs, shaking his head. “They don’t like it. They just don’t know how to stop.”

Noah fires off another question. Luca snaps an answer back instantly.

Noah tilts his head. “See? I was right.”

Luca closes the book with a slap. “Nope. You weren’t.”

Noah starts to protest, but Luca cuts him off. “You proved nothing.”

Jay groaned. Jack dropped his head back against the wooden boards. “Please tell me Kian is coming soon.”

The doors banged open right on cue. Kian stepped in, carrying his gear but already half-suited up, helmet dangling from one hand.

Jack sat up straighter. “Finally.”

Kian stopped right there. “What?”

Jack pointed at the argument. “Make them stop.”

Kian squinted across the room. Noah and Luca were still trading barbs at a furious pace.

He blinked. “What are they doing?”

Jay, not looking up, said, “Being themselves.”

Jack hoisted himself to his feet. “They’re going to drive me insane.”

Kian gave him one flat look, unimpressed. “You’ve survived worse.”

Jack shrugged. “Barely.”

Kian set his gear down and started lining up pucks in practiced rows, as if inviting their attention. The chatter died down, curiosity pulling everyone in.

“Yesterday was different,” he said. “That was about timing, rhythm. Getting your feet under you again.” He looked around, holding everyone’s gaze for just a second.

“Today’s not going to be comfortable.” He flicked a puck with his stick. “Today, we’re going to make you think.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “We were thinking yesterday.”

Kian shook his head. “No. You were just remembering how to play together.”

He pointed his stick at the ice, voice steady and unforgiving. “Today, I want you thinking before you move.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Kian lined them up in front of him, outlining the day’s drills. No more basic stuff. No more clocking in lazy laps. He wanted them in game situations—pressure passing, defensive shifts, reading movement, switching positions without a word, finding gaps under fire.

He stopped, serious. “If you have to shout someone’s name with every pass, you’re already late.”

Jack nodded, quiet now. Luca folded his arms, focusing. Jay and Noah caught each other’s eyes.

Kian checked the clock. “We’ll start with pressure passing.”

Five minutes later, they spread out, biting cold seeping up through their skates.

Kian turned up the heat quick. Two defenders tried to break up every pass—no resting, no watching. Jack’s pass nearly got picked off by Jay. Jay flashed him a grin.

“Got you.”

Jack shook his stick at him. “Lucky.”

Jay just winked. “Still got you.”

Kian’s whistle cut the air. “Again!”

This time Luca barely glanced up and sent the puck behind his back. Jack was already moving. It landed on his tape. Kian watched, eyes narrowed, but didn’t say a word.

Next, it was defensive drills. Kian kept stopping them.

“Too wide.” Whistle.

“Watch the player, not the puck.” Whistle.

“Move together.” Whistle.

Frustration started to simmer. Jack backed off, stopped trying to fix everything. Luca waited, watching the play, sensing where Jay’s next move would come from. Jay and Noah started using tiny hand signals instead of shouting.

Kian caught everything.

The door thudded open again. Sam charged in, still in his junior-team gear, hair wet, cheeks pink from the cold.

Kian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t you just finish junior practice?”

Sam tipped back his water bottle. “Yeah.”

Kian frowned. “And you came straight here?”

Sam shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“You were supposed to rest.”

Sam made for the boards. “I’m fine.”

Kian pointed at the bench. “Sit down and catch your breath.”

Sam hesitated. Kian tossed him the water bottle and repeated, “Sit.”

Sam sat, rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Jack leaned over, inspecting him. “You seriously came straight from practice? You didn't even shower?”

Sam grinned. “Missed me?”

Jack threw his head back, laughing. “Unfortunately.”

Kian cut their banter short. “Enough. We’re starting.”

When Sam joined the next drill, Kian upped the pressure. “Alright, next drill: break through the pressure. Three attackers, two defenders. No solo runs—create space, use your heads.”

After Sam had recovered enough, Kian let him join. The next drill was about breaking through pressure—three attackers against two defenders.

The attackers couldn’t simply rush forward; they had to create space. Kian made the defenders aggressive.

Sam kept trying to force the play. He saw an opening and charged into it. The puck got taken. Kian blew the whistle.

Kian blew his whistle. “Stop.”

Sam coasted to a halt, chest heaving.

Kian leveled with him. “What were you doing?”

Sam looks frustrated. “Trying to get through.”

“You were just trying to do everything.”

Sam scowled. “I was helping.”

Kian’s tone softened. He tapped the ice. “I know. But you don’t have to do everything. That’s not what a captain is.”

Sam looked lost for a second.

“Then what does he have to be?”

Kian paused, looking right at him. “Be the one everyone trusts to make the next decision.”

Sam just stared at the ice. No reply.

But when Kian called, “Again,” Sam smiled faintly.

This time, he didn’t force it. He waited—pulled a defender toward him, slipped the pass, opened the play. Kian gave him a nod. “Better.”

Sam broke into a tired smile.

Jack and Luca found their rhythm after that. Jack got the puck, didn’t even look—Luca was already there. One touch. Shot. The net snapped with a whistle.

Jay barked, “Disgusting.”

Luca spun around. “What?”

Jay pointed between them. “You two are getting unbearable.”

Jack grinned, cocky. “Jealous?”

Jay pointed to Noah: “I have my own.”

Noah shuddered. “Unfortunately.”

Jay threw an arm around Noah, who groaned but didn’t pull away. Jack laughed, shaking his head. Luca watched the exchange—there was no jealousy, just a small, quiet smile.

During the next water break, Jack and Luca drifted to the boards away from the others. Luca didn’t speak for a long moment, just watching the rink.

Then he said, almost shy, “You’re different.”

Jack turned, hands on his knees. “A better different?”

Luca shrugged. “Less annoying.”

Jack gasped, dramatic. “That’s basically a love confession.”

Luca rolled his eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

Jack just bumped his shoulder, grinning. Luca didn’t move.

They sat together in silence. Discomfort gone. No words necessary.

Back on the ice, Sam pushed too hard on a transition drill, lost his edge, and started to go down. Kian caught him by the arm before he hit.

For a split second, they were too close. Sam looked up. Kian looked down. Both holding on a bit too long.

Kian let go gently. “You okay?”

Sam’s voice was rough. “Yeah.”

A little pause. “Thanks.”

Kian nodded. “Try not to make me catch you twice.”

Sam smirked. “What if I do?”

Kian didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’ll charge you.”

Sam laughed, stepping backwards. “For what?”

“My time.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Kian waved him off. “Get back in line.”

Sam lingered a second, then followed. Neither of them said anything, but the electricity was obvious.

Kian suddenly turned the practice up another notch. “Two minutes left. You’re down by one.” They scrambled, urgency in every move. “One minute, protect the lead!” he bellowed. Then, “Thirty seconds, you’ve lost possession—go!”

He kept shifting the rules mid-drill, making them adapt on the fly.

Jack barely spoke, using body language to guide Luca. Jay and Noah exchanged quick nods, in sync. Sam started to trust, leaning on everyone, sweating through his jersey.

Again, again, again.

By the end, they were spent, sprawled on the boards like survivors.

Jay sat next to Noah and started massaging his neck. Noah sighed, eyes fluttering closed—then realized and elbowed him.

Jay whispered close, “We could go to my room later.”

Noah cracks one eye open, trying not to smile. Jay’s voice is low. “Give you a real massage.”

Noah pushes his face away with his glove. “Shut up before someone actually hears.”

Jay snickers, not backing off. “Why? I’m good at it.”

Noah huffs. “You’re trouble, that’s all.”

“Same thing.”

But Noah’s definitely smiling.

Kian walks past, eyeing them. “Break’s over.”

Jay groans. “He hates romance.”

Kian is already skating back. “I hate lazy players.”

Noah shoves Jay to his feet. “Let’s go, idiot.”

A quick whistle. Kian split them into teams for a final scrimmage.

Team One: Luca, Sam, Noah.

Team Two: Jack, Jay.

He crossed his arms. “Don’t play to impress me. Play to beat them.”

Jack waggled his stick. “Easy.”

Luca glared, competitive light in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

The puck dropped. Everything got sharper. Sam and Noah pushed up, Jay blocked with skill, Noah fought for inches. In the chaos, Jack and Luca ended up alone.

Luca went for the puck. Jack read him, mirrored each move. When Luca tried to feint, Jack snatched the puck away.

Luca stopped dead. “Seriously?”

Jack grinned. “Yep.”

“You should’ve let me win.”

“That’s not how hockey works.”

“It should be.”

Jack skated backward, taunting. “You’re just mad because I beat you.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

Luca tried to speed up but Jack chased him, laughing.

Finally, Kian blew the whistle long and hard.

Everyone stopped, panting. Jack wore his victory like a crown; Luca sulked toward the bench, gloves already off. Jack followed.

Jay, flopping onto the ice, laughed. “You really got him riled.”

Jack shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

Jay craned his neck, dubious. “Good luck with that.”

Jack found Luca ripping off his gloves, eyes a little stormy.

“Luca.”

No answer.

Jack stayed put. “You’re upset because I won?”

Luca glared. “You could’ve let me have it.”

Jack blinked. “You wanted me to lose on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Luca was dead serious. “Because I’m your boyfriend.”

Jack busted out laughing. “That’s not how competition works.”

Luca muttered something in Italian, half-pout, half-smirk.

Jack nudged him. “Was that an insult?”

“Maybe.”

It took effort, but Luca started to smile. Tried to hide it. Failed.

Jack grinned. “There it is.”

“There what?”

“You smiled.”

“I didn’t.”

The tension evaporated as the others hovered nearby.

Noah approached, clutching his backpack. “You coming to the library tonight?”

Luca nodded, mind still half on the ice. “Probably.”

Noah started rattling off study plans when Jay grabbed his arm and yanked him backward.

“Come on.”

Noah dug in his heels. “Where are we—?”

Jay’s voice dropped. “My room.”

Noah rolled his eyes, already guessing the rest. “No.”

Jay pouted. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I know exactly what you were going to say.”

Jay just kept dragging. “Come on.”

Noah groaned. “You’re impossible.”

As they disappeared, Sam realized he was suddenly standing alone. Everyone else had melted away in pairs.

He frowned at the empty bench. “Wow.”

Looked around again. “Nobody even said bye.”

Kian was still picking up stray gear, tidying up. He walked over as Sam unlaced his skates, trying to look as cool as ever.

Kian leaned in, voice low. “You okay?”

Sam tipped his head up. “Piece of cake.”

Kian gave him a flat look.

“What?” Sam said, playing innocent.

Kian crouched, organizing sticks. “You just did two trainings back to back.”

Sam shrugged. “I wanted to practice.”

“You were supposed to rest.”

“I’m fine.”

Kian focused on him. “You keep saying that.”

Sam grinned. “Because I am.”

Kian straightened up, frowning. “You can’t keep doing that. You’ll burn out.”

Sam laughed. “Why are you talking like an old man?”

Kian turned, just the hint of a smirk. “Did you just call me old?”

Sam caught himself, then grinned wider. “I mean…”

Kian arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Sam put his hands up. “You have the energy of an old man, that’s all.”

Kian pointed. “Careful.”

Sam snickered. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re asking for trouble,” Kian said.

Sam tied off his skate and stood. “See? Old-man behavior.”

Kian shook his head, mouth twitching.

Sam started shuffling toward the door, backward. “You should relax more.”

“And you should rest more.”

“We’ll agree to disagree.”

Kian watched him, finally letting his smile stretch a little. “Sam.”

Sam stopped at the door. “Yeah?”

Kian’s voice softened. “Seriously. Don’t overdo it.”

For a second, the teasing dropped away.

Sam nodded quietly. “Okay.”

He couldn’t help it—he grinned again. “But you’re still old.”

Kian whipped a towel at him. “Get out.”

Sam ducked, laughing, and slipped out the door.

Kian watched him disappear, the sound of Sam’s laughter echoing behind. For a moment, Kian just stood there, alone on the empty rink. Then, almost to himself, he smiled.