A minor penalty that is not called until the offending team gains control of the puck. As long as the non-offending team maintains possession, the referee allows play to continue and signals a delayed penalty by raising his arm. I’m Evan Mason, an NHL hockey player for the Chicago Blackhawks. I spend my nights roughing up two hundred pound defensemen and, at times, spend more time in the penalty box than I do on the ice. That’s my job. One night changed everything I thought I once knew about my life on, and off, the ice. A girl. A brutally beaten girl left to die in an alley. I don’t know why or how but something made me stay that night after taking her to the hospital. I didn’t know her, nor did I have an obligation to stay but something inside of me rooted me there telling me I should stay. Saving a life is worth something. At least I thought so. And I wouldn’t have been me if I just simply left her there. Any man who put his heart and soul into a game of hockey couldn’t just walk away when someone needed them. She had no one else right now. The same guy who saw determination where there was desire, now saw hope where there was once despair. I couldn’t leave. That wouldn’t be me. No, not a man that put all he had into something some called just a game. I couldn’t walk away from her holding onto life, weak and powerless to something she had no control over. So I stayed. In a room full of family members praying for their loved ones to pull through, I prayed for a girl I didn’t know and had never met before, to have a beating heart. While others’ sorrows turned to grieving pain, I sat waiting on the words of the unknown. No bond is stronger than the ones you’ll bleed for.

I’m Leo Orting, the goofy center and team captain for the Chicago Blackhawks who no one ever takes seriously. I’m used to being the player. I’m cool with it. Being the star front-man of the team, I’m involved in every play. My lifestyle, much like any professional athlete, has its perks, and mostly between the legs of countless puck bunnies. One girl, my favorite regular, Callie Pratt, has been on my mind for a while. It wasn’t like I was in love with her, but I did think of her a lot. That’s a lie. I thought about her all the time and found every excuse I could to call her, send an inappropriate text, or be around her in some way. She kept me on my toes and never played into the crap I spewed, but part of me wanted her to see what I was really about under the joking exterior and player mentality. Trying to assuage my mild obsession over her, I took her home on New Years Eve to satisfy that urge. After our one night together, we now found ourselves offsides, trying to avoid a penalty, hoping that what we have can withstand even the most challenging of opponents. And now for those who could never take me seriously, I’ve found myself needing the most important girl in my life to put her trust that I will finish this game, I have to finish this game…if she’ll just give me the chance.