Chapter 5 Sidelines
Sidelines
Dylan’s POV
The rink was occupied as fans were seated while waiting for the match to begin.
Everywhere was loud, bright, and more alive. The stands were packed with students and staff, their voices bouncing off the walls in waves. The rival academy, Blackridge, had shown up in full numbers, their navy jerseys stood out in the crowd like a bruise. The energy in the building was the kind that gave me the morale boost to do well.
I was already in my gear when the Coach walked into the locker room with his clipboard and an expression that says he wasn’t here to joke.
He went down the lineup and started calling name after name, position after position. I kept waiting to hear mine.
He closed his clipboard after a while.
“That’s the starting lineup. Everyone else, warm-up positions only.”
I looked up. “Coach.”
He glanced at me briefly. “You’re on the bench today, Petrov.”
I suddenly felt the coldness of the room. All my life as a hockey player, I have never sat on the bench unless I’m injured. A few guys looked at me, and I caught Cole smirking at his skates like he was trying not to make it obvious.
“I’ve been showing up to every practice,” I said, keeping my voice polite. “I’ve been putting in the work.”
“I never said you didn’t show up for practice, you will have to be on bench,” he said, already moving toward the door. “A lot of controversy is ongoing about you… I can’t risk the dignity of this team by putting you in the game.”
He left and I stood there with my helmet in my hand, staring at the space where he had been standing. There was no need arguing further because he made it clear already that the rumors following me will dent the image of the team if I should play. I heaved a sigh of disbelief, until when will this rumor that had followed me from Ironridge finally leave me?
I sat on the bench during the opening face-off and watched Liam lead the team onto the ice.
He moved differently out there, like something in him switched on the moment the game began. He was faster and completely unreadable to anyone trying to anticipate him. Blackridge had clearly studied the team because they came out pressing hard, targeting the defense and forcing turnovers in the first two minutes.
Regardless, frostbite clapped back at them. Calen fed a pass through a gap that shouldn’t have existed and one of the wingers buried it clean inside the post. The cheer from frostbite got louder as the team scored.
But Blackridge didn’t slow down, they tied it within the next minutes and the game turned into something ugly. Both teams were hitting hard, the referee was letting a lot go, and the ice was getting chippy in a way that made every play feel like it was one step away from falling apart.
I watched from the bench with my elbows on my knees, and my jaw tight. I felt useless in a way I hated more than I expected. Every time there was a line change I leaned forward slightly, half-expecting the coach to wave me in, and every time the coach looked down the bench, his eyes passed over me like I wasn’t existing.
Blackridge tied it again midway through the second period and the crowd became quiet, the noise getting tighter, less celebration and more anxiety.
Liam was everywhere, covering gaps, calling plays, pulling the teammates out of bad positions with a word or a look. No matter how much I hated him, I will give him the credit of knowing how to pull the team together under pressure.
He had the puck near the blue line, moving with a controlled pace he used right before he hit, I could see exactly where he was going. The Blackridge defender saw it too, because he lined up and waited.
It happened so fast that Liam drove forward, and the defender hit him sideways with his stick. It wasn’t a hockey check, it was a collision that had no business in the puck. Liam hit the ground hard, his shoulder taking the full weight of the fall against the boards before he hit the ice.
Everywhere became so quiet. It was as if everyone stopped to process what just happened.
Then the noise came back doubled. Frostbite fans got mad at Blackridge fans and started cussing. The stadium became a ball of chaos.
Two medical staff moved onto the ice immediately, they knelt down on either side of him. I was on my feet before I knew it. From where I stood I could see blood darkening the fabric near his shoulder, spreading through the white of his jersey, it wasn’t a minor injury with the amount of blood on him.
He pushed the medical staff off before they could do anything, got to his feet slowly and when he was upright he skated toward the tunnel alone, not looking at anyone, or calling for help.
The crowd was still murmuring. The referee had pulled the game to a stop and both teams were standing around watching. Cole said something to the guy beside him but I wasn’t listening to it.
I stepped off the bench and followed.
He was already in the tunnel by the time I caught up, moving at a pace that didn’t match someone who had just bled through his jersey. I called after him.
“Hey, let me help.”
He turned and the look on his face was something I hadn’t seen before. It was raw anger, like I was disturbing his peace.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
“Your shoulder is bleeding, you need…”
“I don’t need your help, Petrov.” His voice became quiet. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
I stood there for a moment. He turned and kept walking, disappearing around the corner toward the dressing rooms.
I didn’t go back inside, no matter how much I despised him, I couldn’t let him bleed to death yet. I went the other direction, down toward the equipment room where I had seen a first aid box mounted on the wall. I pulled it off the bracket, checked that it had what I needed, gauze, antiseptic, tape, and turned back toward the corridor.
I took to my heels as walking became longer. The muffled sound of the crowd still filtered through the walls, which meant the game had resumed, and nobody was watching this hallway or thinking about either of us right now.
I turned towards the dressing room and stopped.
Rydan was standing near the wall, his jersey pulled aside at his shoulder, his back angled slightly away from me. He didn’t notice that I was there yet.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t find the right words. I knew he was a fucking vampire but this…
His shoulder that had been bleeding through his jersey minutes ago was completely clean. No wound, bruising or trace of the blood I had seen spreading through his fabric with my own eyes.
Not even a single… mark.
He turned suddenly and my eyes locked with his eyes which were red and scary now.
“What the fuck!”
