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Amara.
publish date:
2026-07-16 17:15:00
Latest chapter
My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy Not Separately Anymore
The first blow landed before I’d even finished my morning coffee.It was a comment on the IceEyes dashboard, wedged beneath my latest tactical breakdown:Wonder how much of this "analysis" is actually hers, or if her new boyfriend is just feeding her insider playbooks so she looks smart.The room seemed to tilt. I stared at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. I scrolled down. There were more. All posted within the last hour, all carrying the same deniable, toxic phrasing.The coach only gave her that retreat credit because Carlson put in a word. Obviously. Two years of anonymity, and suddenly she's "discovered" the exact week she starts sleeping with the captain? Sure. Not saying she's a fraud. Just saying the math doesn't add up.By the time I reached the athletics center, the whispers had already bypassed the internet. Two girls from the swim team gave me a long, calculating look by the water fountains, and an assistant track coach asked me, with a thin, polite smile
My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy Someone Else's Light
The phone buzzed against my nightstand at eleven. A single text from Brianna, accompanied by an image file.Thought you'd want to see this before it's everywhere.I stared at the screen for a long, quiet minute, waiting for the coldness to set in.It was a photo. Carlson Miller, hand in hand with my sister on the back porch of the retreat lodge. The lake was a dark mirror behind them, the golden hour bleeding over their shoulders. They were lit up in a way I’d never once managed to get out of him in three years of trying.I was used to rejection. It was a currency I knew how to handle. But being cast aside for Cheryl, quiet, limping, forgettable Cheryl, who had spent her entire life collecting dust in whatever shadow I happened to throw, was a humiliation I didn't have the vocabulary to survive.My fingers were steady as I dialed Megan. She picked up on the second ring."She's with him," I said. My voice was too quiet, too flat. "Officially. It’s disgusting.""I know. I saw," Me
My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy No Longer Hiding
Carlson pov.Dylan has been my teammate for three years, and I’d never had a single reason to care about him until I saw him holding that door open for Cheryl, leaning in just a little too close.I promised myself I wouldn't be like Richard. My father treated people like property, demanding total control over everything and everyone in his orbit. I spent my entire life trying to run in the opposite direction of his shadow. But standing on those porch steps, watching Dylan smile at her, a dark possessiveness flared in my chest.I didn't like how it came.I carried her bag anyway. It didn't cure the ugly feeling, but it gave my hands something to do besides balling into fists.By the time Coach called the end of practice, the sun was sinking beneath the tree line, turning the lake a deep, bruised purple. The rest of the guys headed inside for dinner, but Cheryl stayed behind, wrapping cables and packing up her gear. I told Remy I’d catch up and doubled back to the ice."You didn't ha
My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy Officially Hers
The team bus smelled of rubber, stale upholstery, and the sharp tang of energy drinks. I spent the first twenty minutes of the ride pretending to review my shot list, but my eyes kept drifting. Three rows up, Carlson sat wedged between Remy and a massive duffel bag. He was laughing at something I couldn't hear, his head tilted back, the sharp line of his jaw softened by a genuine smile.Team Analyst.I still hadn't digested the words, even seeing my name printed on the retreat roster Coach Whitman handed me that morning: Cheryl Hart, Team Analyst. Not a videographer. Not the girl who lugged tripods to the bleachers. An actual title.The retreat house sat on a secluded lake an hour outside campus. It was a massive lodge built of exposed timber and stone. The kind of place boosters rented out for programs with deep donor pockets. Behind it lay a private rink, its surface frozen solid and gleaming under the overcast sky.I was hauling my heavy equipment bag up the wooden porch steps
My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy Officially Credited
Cheryl povCoach Whitman’s office smelled of Folgers and dry-erase markers. I’d stood in this room a hundred times over the last two years to hand over practice drives, but today, Whitman didn't wave me out. He pointed a thick finger at the chair across from his desk."Sit, Cheryl."My stomach did a heavy roll. I sat as my hands gripped the edge of my notebook.Whitman spun his monitor around. My chest went cold. It was the dashboard for "ICE EYES". a post from mid-season where I’d torn apart our power-play structure, the exact adjustments Whitman had implemented on the ice two days later against State."I’ve been reading this blog for two years," Whitman said, leaning back in his creaking chair. "Longer than I've had you on my payroll. I always wondered who was behind it. Sharpest tactical mind on this campus, and I couldn't put a face to the name."The silence in the room was deafening. I couldn't deny it. The layout was right there, and Whitman wasn’t a stupid man."It’s you," h
My Pathetic Obsession With The Hockey Boy Print the Real One.
Carlson pov.The equipment arrived at her door before nine the next morning. A new camera, a laptop, and a dual-channel backup drive I forced Remy’s cousin to deliver overnight from the city because I didn’t trust the campus bookstore to stock anything worth using. I told myself it was practical. Cheryl needed the gear to do her job. It was a business investment.It wasn't. And I knew it the moment I found myself standing on her doorstep for the second night in a row, with no excuse to be there other than the simple fact that I wanted to be.She didn't look surprised when she opened the door. For a girl who spent two years hiding her thoughts in a journal, she had a way of looking at me now that felt unguarded, like I was someone she could trust. It was a faith, I wasn’t sure I knew how to hold it."I want to do this properly," I said, stepping inside. We sat at her kitchen table again, but this time, we placed a notebook and a recording device between us instead of our hands. "The
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