Chapter 268

TIMOTHY POV

Timothy skated across the ice, his heart pounding with the exhilaration of the practice game. The sound of blades against the ice, the shouts of his teammates, and the click of the puck were a symphony of action. Yet amidst the spirited atmosphere, there were whispers.

He caught snippets of conversations, hushed tones, and curious glances exchanged between his teammates. Timothy sensed an undercurrent of tension that rippled through the air, a stark contrast to the usual focused mentality during practice. His curiosity piqued, he made his way toward Ethan.

"What's going on?" Timothy asked as he approached Ethan, observing the others with intrigue. “What’s all the fuss?”

Ethan glanced around cautiously before leaning in, his expression grave. "You haven't heard? There's talk about a transfer," he said, his voice low with a hint of concern.

"A transfer? Who?" Timothy's brow furrowed in confusion.

Ethan hesitated for a moment before responding, "Alex Richards."

The name hit Timothy like a bolt of lightning. Alex Richards—a renowned player he hadn't seen or heard of in a while. Memories flooded back, a time when they used to share the same rink, the same passion for the game. The news caught him off guard, stirring a mixture of surprise and a tinge of nostalgia.

"Alex? But he's been away training with a team in Canada, hasn't he?" Timothy's voice betrayed his astonishment.

Ethan nodded gravely. "Yes, and now it seems like he's being transferred. To our rivals," he explained, his tone clipped.

Timothy's mind raced, trying to process the implications of such a transfer. The team they would be facing that Friday—his own team's archrivals—would now have Alex Richards among their ranks. The gravity of the situation sank in, a ripple of concern spreading through him.

"Why is everyone so stressed about it?" Timothy asked apprehensively.

Ethan sighed, his shoulders falling. "Alex... he's a game-changer, especially coming from such a rigorous team. His skills are exceptional. Having him on their side could tip the balance," he explained.

A sense of urgency surged within Timothy. He remembered the days spent training and playing alongside Alex—a formidable player and someone he respected deeply as an elder. The thought of facing him on the opposing team stirred a mix of emotions—nostalgia, a desire to compete, but also a tinge of uncertainty.

He glanced at the practice unfolding around him, the intensity of the drills contrasting sharply with the news he'd just received. The anticipation for the upcoming match now carried a much larger weight—a challenge that would test their team's mettle and his own abilities on the field.

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the rigorous practice session. Timothy's pulse still raced from the intensity of the drills, yet a sense of assurance washed over him. The looming match against their archrivals barely rattled his confidence, buoyed by the assurance that Evie would be among the spectators cheering for the team.

"You think Alex's transfer will affect our strategy for Friday's game?" Ethan interjected as they headed toward the locker rooms.

Timothy's brows furrowed briefly before he shook his head. "Not at all. We've been preparing pretty hard ourselves. Having Alex on their side won't alter our approach. We've got this," he insisted, radiating an unwavering confidence.

Ethan remained unconvinced, his concern etched across his features. "I'm not so sure, mate. Alex's presence can't be underestimated," Ethan pointed out.

Timothy tried not express distaste with how easily Ethan was expressing defeat. Even if it was true, which Timothy still doubted, they couldn’t afford to think they’d lose with the nice streak they’ve maintained.

"We'll adapt if needed, but let's not overthink it," Timothy replied.

"Alright, catch you later, Tim. We'll talk more about it," Ethan said, parting ways as they reached the next hallway.

"Sure thing. See you," Timothy called out, making his way toward the locker room.

Walking through the corridors toward the locker room, murmurs floated in the air—whispers about Alex, the renowned player whose transfer had set tongues wagging. Timothy brushed it off, focusing on the task at hand.

Upon entering the locker room, Timothy's gaze swept the room. A new team had already come in to prepare for practice, Among the faces milling about, one stood out—Alex Richards.

The man was leaning against a locker, glancing around at the crowd that surrounded him. He had on a wide, cheeky smile, and laughed as someone told a joke.

Deciding to just ignore them, Timothy began to peel off his training gear. He didn’t get any hints on who Alex was as a person, but it wouldn’t surprise him if the guy was pompous enough to have groupies that were his own teammates. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him, and a brief chuckle.

"Timothy, right?" Alex's voice cut through the ambient noise of the locker room, drawing Timothy's attention.

Timothy turned, meeting Alex's gaze. "Yes, that's me," he replied politely, a hint of surprise in his tone.

Alex approached him, a confident aura surrounding him. "I've heard a lot about you, about your skills on the ice," Alex remarked, his tone friendly but carrying a hint of intrigue.

Timothy nodded modestly. "Thank you. I've admired your game too, Alex. It's an honor to play against someone of your caliber," he replied respectfully.

“So nice to see you’ve done your research. I feel quite honored myself.” He flashed Timothy a grin. “Do you study all of your opponents.”

Timothy lifted an eyebrow. “Always.”

Alex seemed impressed, his gaze studying Timothy intently. "You seem confident, which is good," Alex remarked, curiosity lacing his words. “Keeps you sane.”

Timothy maintained his composure, his demeanor calm and composed. "We're a team, and we've trained hard for this match. Facing a skilled player like you is just another challenge we're ready for," he replied, concealing any trace of unease beneath his confident facade.

Alex nodded, seemingly impressed by Timothy's assurance. "Well, I look forward to the challenge. It'll be an interesting game," he said with a faint smile before excusing himself back to his entourage

As Alex moved away, Timothy couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to the conversation than met the eye. Alex's curiosity about him, the lingering questions—it left a niggling sense of unease in the back of his mind.

Despite the cordial exchange, Timothy sensed an undercurrent of scrutiny in Alex's demeanor. His instincts pricked at the subtle nuances of the conversation, hinting at a deeper curiosity from the renowned player.

During a long shower, Timothy tried to shake off the lingering thoughts about the encounter. The game was imminent, and his focus needed to be on the match ahead. He exited the locker room, already feeling the adrenaline course through him.

As Timothy strode down the familiar hallways, a figure caught his eye. Someone appeared to be walking aimlessly, seemingly lost amidst the bustling surroundings of the stadium. Instinctively, he quickened his pace, intending to offer help, assuming it was a lost spectator seeking directions.

"Excuse me, do you need any help finding your way?" Timothy called out, closing the distance between them.

The figure turned around, and Timothy's initial assumption crumbled instantly. It wasn't just any lost spectator—it was Mr. Fitzgerald, appearing somewhat disoriented and preoccupied.

"Mr. Fitzgerald?"