He’s incredible on the ice, yet I still hate every second of it. Not because of him, of course, but because Olly played hockey for a bit and I went to what feels like a million games at St. Peter’s. The man I’m watching is not the boy from chem. And definitely not the boy from St. Peter’s. I’ve seen him play, but I’ve never paid attention. Now, I can’t look away. He’s violent. Fast. Too fast. Almost too good. He moves past the defenders effortlessly, time and time again, only really losing the puck when he passes. In high school, we were just there to get out of the house, yet I’m sure I’d
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