Gemotions

The low growl of the crowd echoed in Liam’s ears as he jogged onto the ice. He was a power forward, a position he'd owned since he was a kid. Then, the coach had pulled him aside, explaining the team needed a defenseman. He felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. He hadn’t touched a defenseman’s stick in years.

He watched the puck, tracing its travel across the ice with hawk-like intensity. The opposing team was known for their aggressive plays, and Liam knew he’d have to anticipate their moves. His eyes darted from player to player, assessing threats, searching for openings. He felt a constant pressure in his chest, a sense of needing to be everywhere at once.

His first shift was a blur of skates and sticks. A player with his back to him was bearing down on the net, and Liam swung into action, intercepting the puck with a swift, defensive maneuver. Relief washed over him as he sent the disc to a teammate. He took a deep, shuddering breath, the ice cold against his face.