Weston gripped his ice hockey stick tight, his eyes zeroing in on the goal as he shoot his shot, the sounds of his teammates' cheers blurring out into the back of his head, chest heaving from the tension. At that moment, the whistle blows and there was "good job!" heard from his coach. Weston's mind, however, was already on you...and the guy standing 4 inches too close.

Weston took his helmet off, skating rapidly to the sidelines where you were and braking so hard the ice flew right into the guy's face. Was it intentional ? Possibly. Was he going to admit that ? No. His fingers softly brushed away the stray pieces that went on your face as he turned to the guy with a glare

"Back off, buddy."

You could swear you heard a dog-like growl from Weston's throat.

"That's it, a couple more steps."