The Goal: Chapter 2

Anakin Skywalker

It's nine-thirty on Tuesday morning, the day after Labor Day, and the first day of the new semester. My first class this morning is at ten-ten, giving me forty minutes to get there. I check my pockets to make sure I've got everything I need before heading out; I do. My cell phone is secure in my pocket along with my wallet and keys. I pull my keys out of my pocket, exit my room, and walk out of the house and over to my motorcycle parked in the driveway.

She's a beauty, if I may so myself.

Mostly custom made by yours truly, I found her rusty old frame in a junkyard when I was a young teen and asked my step-dad to buy her for me for my birthday. He did, and ever since then, I've fixed her up by buying or finding new parts and upgrading her whenever I could. Nobody would be able to guess her model, she's all modified under the hood- so to speak and even in her appearance.

Starting her up, she roars to life under me. There's nothing quite like riding a motorcycle...Well, I grin mischievously, there are other activities that are quite a lot like it, but still, nothing is as freeing, thrilling, or relaxing as riding a motorcycle. I throw my helmet on and snap the buckle in place, pull out of my driveway and ride towards campus.

Campus is only ten minutes away with the normal traffic, I'm there in no time and parking in the student lot. Every student that goes here must be here already, dammit. I can't even see any available spots, and that's exactly why I like riding my motorcycle. She's small enough where I can just squeeze her into a tight spot, and that's exactly what I do.

My Harley gets many appreciative stares, and that's before they even realize who I am. When they see me, the stares become even more appreciative and some even filled with awe. Only the young freshmen haven't a clue who I am, but they'll learn soon enough. Everyone always does.

There really isn't a student on campus that doesn't know who I am. It's kinda hard not to know Anakin Skywalker, Captain of the Division I Men's Ice Hockey Team- Captain of the Boston University Terriers. Star Forward who's been scouted by NHL scouts and has been pushed by many of them to put myself up for the NHL Entry Draft...which I've refused to do time and time again. Don't get me wrong. I want be an NHL player, but I want to live the college life to its fullest also, and I don't think I'm quite ready to be playing for an NHL team just yet. I also promised my mother that I'd get a college degree before pursuing my dreams. Once I became scouted though and scouts talked to her, she released me of my promise and told me to follow my heart.

That's exactly what I did and decided to stay true to my promise, even if she released me of it. If hockey doesn't work out for me or God forbid, I get a career ending injury, I want something solid to fall back on and not have to go back to school to get it. This way, I get both. I'm considered a free agent, and once I graduate, I can reach out to my agent, and he can reach out to the teams that are still interested in me, and we can talk. Free agent status works better for me anyway; it gives me more options instead of being drafted to a team I probably won't want to be on anyway. I've been born and raised here in Boston and am a life-long fan of the Boston Bruins. If they extend an offer to me, I'd definitely accept it in a heart beat. So far though, they haven't. Their scouts scouted me out, but that's as far as that went. It's kinda depressing to be honest. I mean, it is the one team I want to be on most. Beggars can't be choosers though, and I'll honestly be happy on any NHL team that lets me prove that they made the right decision by taking a chance on me.

"Nice ride," some young freshman I don't recognize says.

I nod my thanks and walk inside the building I got my first class in and head right over to the coffee stand in the lobby. The barista smiles at me flirtatiously and asks me what I'd like to order. I order a double espresso, and she quickly goes to making it. She finishes in record time and bats her eyelashes at me and asks if I'd like anything else, "anything else at all." I tell her that's all and pay my tab with a five dollar bill and move on, letting her keep the change while flashing her the trademark Skywalker grin.

"Skywalker!"

I turn around knowing that voice well and see one of my roommates walking towards me, his long legs eating up the space between us in just a few seconds until he's standing right before me. "Mornin' Ryder," I grin. Wesley Ryder, my fellow student, teammate, and roommate. "Surprised to see you up and about. I thought you were still passed out in the backyard."

"Nice of you to check," he deadpans, before slapping my back in greeting. "I don't even remember what happened last night, it's all a blur."

He doesn't want to know what happened last night, or at least he shouldn't want to know. It was too hilarious for words, but he won't hear it from me. The dude could drink with the best of us, but last night he went and got himself totally shit faced. I never saw the dude so plastered in the four years I've known him.

"That bad?" He moans, rubbing a big hand through his short brown hair.

I just give him a grin and squeeze his shoulder. "Nothing you haven't done before, y'know...whipping it out and flashing your junk for every male and female to see. Seriously, I thought you were going to lose it the way you were whipping it around. Would've thought you were a pirate or something."

In reality, it was nothing like that. Seriously. He just passed out. It was utterly pathetic. But, I'm more than happy to let him believe he acted like a complete nut, it'd be more believable than passing out stone cold drunk in the backyard after drinking a measly three shots. I mean, come on! We're seniors for crying out loud. We drank more than that in freshman year and lasted a hella lot longer than three shots. Still, the dude is by far my best friend, and I won't judge him for passing out way too early into the night. We did have a pretty hardcore weekend after all, hitting the ice on our own time and practicing like we always did throughout our time here at BU, and that was always until we couldn't skate anymore or our legs would've given out underneath us. You can never get enough practice, especially not when you attend college full-time, work, and play hockey. There's only so much time in the day, after all.

We chat for a couple of minutes about our plans for later and then go our separate ways, having two different classes, and I walk into mine and settle down in a seat in the back row, pulling out my Mac. I prefer going about unrecognized when I can. It may be pretty damn sweet to be me, a winner of the Hobey Baker Award and the team captain of a seven-time National Championship hockey team, but it can also be pretty tiring when I want some peace and quiet- anonymity, and I can't find it anywhere except for my own room.

And sometimes not even there because of my rowdy roommates.

My classmates start wandering in and many of them recognize me and give me a slight, hesitant nod of the head in greeting. I nod back and pull up ESPN on my laptop and browse through the latest news. As a kid, I always watched ESPN. I was literally addicted to it. It didn't even really matter the sport: baseball, football, basketball, soccer, lacrosse, and of course, hockey. I played them all. I was a pretty well rounded kid, athletically speaking, but no sport was ingrained in my blood quite like hockey was. I lived it, breathed it. Just skating on the ice is a beautiful feeling. It's a form of art. Not many people could skate, let alone move like we can on the ice for the puck, trying to score a goal while being pursued by guys of sometimes equal or greater skill. It's quite thrilling, really.

Just like riding a motorcycle, it's thrilling, freeing, and relaxing, even if I get checked into the boards from time to time.

The class quickly begins filling up, and then it's ten-ten and the professor begins class. Professor Yu is said to be one of the toughest graders here at BU. She's an older woman that the Skywalker charm probably won't work on. I'm not one to get my way out of projects or to sleep my way to getting a better grade just because I'm a hockey player and extremely good looking, but even if I was, it wouldn't work on her or on the TA since there isn't a TA in this class. I may not cheat or sleep my way through my classes, but there are some that don't believe it because of the great grades I get, especially since I am on the Dean's List. What they don't get is that just because I'm a hockey player, a jock- doesn't mean I'm not smart. Sure, I don't broadcast my intelligence, but that doesn't mean I don't try and do my best in all of my classes. If hockey doesn't work out for me, a four-point-oh GPA should help me find a pretty sweet job with my bachelors degree in mechanical engineering.

"I'm going to take attendance. When I call your name, I want you to raise your hand and then state your year, major and something random about yourself that most people wouldn't know." The prof demands.

Just as she begins to go through the list, the the door opens. A small feminine figure enters and looks around quickly for a seat and then darts towards the back, taking a seat next to me. She doesn't even look my way, just puts her messenger bag down next to her, sets her iced coffee down, pulls out a pair of dainty looking glasses and places them on her nose, then pulls out her laptop. The professor begins calling the names, and my classmates respond, but I don't hear a word they say. Too enthralled am I in the small woman sitting to my right.

I can't see her face, just her profile, but I like what I see. A lot. She's short, maybe five-three or four? She's about a hundred or so pounds, small enough that I'd probably break her in half- on accident. Her scent wafts over to me and wraps around me, smelling like the exotic flowers of her perfume- or is it her natural scent? She's wearing casual clothes, faded blue jeans that wrap around her slender legs with holes at her knees and tan suede clogs on her feet, and a short white t-shirt showing off her slender, beautiful, pale arms. She has a gauzy looking scarf in a peach, mint green, and white pattern wrapped around her neck. She has on a silver looking slender watch on her left wrist, and small silver hoop earrings in her ears. Her dark brown hair flows freely down her back, about halfway down, and I find myself wanting to wrap my fingers through her hair to feel if it's as silky soft as it looks.

"Padmé Naberrie."

The late comer raises her hand and speaks, and her voice is mesmerizing. "Senior, Political Science, and... I like to bake." She blushes, her face scrunching up at her own response. It's cute, the way her forehead creases, eyes widening slightly behind her glasses, and her cursing under her breath. If I didn't like her before, which for the record, I did, then I'd definitely like her now. The prof continues on and then calls my name.

"Anakin Skywalker."

All eyes fall on me, from both people who did recognize me and from those who didn't, but at least know my name. You can't be a BU student and not know my name, at the very least. I raise my hand, even though it's not really necessary seeing as how even the professor was looking at me when she said my name.

"Senior, Mechanical Engineering, and besides playing hockey, I like to go hiking. It helps clear my mind and gets me in the zone."

The prof nods and continues on, the beautiful woman next to me turns to look at me and blushes when I catch her. Pink taints her cheeks, and she curses under her breath again as she tries to focus on anything and everything but me. I don't let that deter me. I keep looking at her, checking her out, and I do like what I see. Very much. She knows I'm looking at her, too. I'm not trying to be subtle about it. And, I'm liking the affect it has on her. She's blushing, and it's cute. She's also trying her damnedest not to give in to my gaze, which is amusing. I really wonder how long she could hold out before she caves. Seconds? Minutes? The whole class period?

It turns out to be the latter. Impressive. The prof dismisses us, and we're all packing up and leaving class. My laptop is still opened up to ESPN and my word document is as blank as Padmé's face, as she goes about packing up and trying to leave before she has to look my way. I grin and close up my Mac and store it in my bag. Turns out that her deliberately ignoring me isn't going to work out. We stand at the same time, and she walks face first into my chest. I reach out to steady her with my hands. Her skin is as silky soft as I imagine her hair is, and I find myself wanting to feel the rest of her, too. Her face heats up, going redder than a firetruck. I make no movement to go, as I sling my backpack over a shoulder and smile, looking down at her petite form. Nobody can say she's a quitter, most women- especially on this campus, would've dropped their panties by now, but to her credit, she looks like she'd rather throw on a snowsuit than do anything with me.

It's a bit perplexing. What does she have against me? I never even met her before this class.

When she still makes no attempt to move, I decide to make the first move. And that is by clearing my throat. It works, as she shakes her head and peers up at me with beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. I can tell right away she's not wearing any makeup, and truthfully, she doesn't need it. She's gorgeous without it...and truthfully, I actually prefer it when women don't wear a lot of makeup anyway. I'm intrigued.

I greet her with my trademark grin and try to lighten the tension between us. "Are you done checking out my chest?" I waggle my eyebrows, enjoying myself immensely at her expense. "I know it's sexy as hell, I mean it is me we're talking about, but I've got another class to get to." If there was a secret trap door in the room, I'm sure she wishes she was standing on it. We're standing so close I can feel her heart thump-thump against her rib cage. Her carotid artery looks like it's about to explode, and her face is turning brighter and brighter red as the seconds roll on. Finally, much to my... displeasure, she stands aside, allowing me to move without running over a lilliputian. Honestly, I was enjoying our stand off. It was almost like a face-off, something I rarely lose.

I'm nothing if not a competitor.

"I'm looking forward to round two on Thursday, Miss Naberrie." I wink, as I make my way down the row towards the door. She doesn't move, and I don't turn around as I leave her with a challenge. "I'm kinda disappointed you caved so soon. I thought you'd be a worthy competitor. I guess I thought wrong."

I'm also nothing if not a button-pusher or complete asshole. Maybe both? Whichever floats your boat. I smirk as I head out the door and down the hall.

Next class is only two floors below this one, and I make my way there with two minutes to spare and take my seat. It's way less entertaining than my first one, and much less of a challenge. Two puck bunnies corral me the second I sit down and try to flirt with me. Being the big flirt I am, I flirt right back but make no plans or promises, as my thoughts are...elsewhere.

It's rare that a woman catches my eye, like Padmé Naberrie. So rare, in fact, I can't recall ever feeling quite like this before. Even her name is beautiful. It definitely fits the beholder. Her parents named her right. They also created one hell of a beautiful woman. She looked perfect in her V-necked white t-shirt, scarf, and tight blue jeans. She could probably pull off wearing a trash bag though, to be honest. Padmé Naberrie. She doesn't leave my mind as class ends, and I make my way across campus towards Agganis Arena for practice.

My teammates surround me as we enter the Arena and their conversations drown out my thoughts.

We file into the locker room, change into our gear, secure our helmets on our heads, grab our sticks and head on out towards the rink. The frigid air freezes me to the core before I start skating around the ice and begin warming up.

All thoughts of Padmé Naberrie leave my mind and the only thing I focus on is the task at hand. Nothing gets me in the zone like hockey, it's my life and I'm not about to let any lilliputian change that.

No matter how hot she is.

Of course, after practice, all bets are off...only she doesn't know that yet.

But she will.

I grin wickedly and put in my mouth guard and take off for center ice, ready for practice to start.

Author's Note: Let the games begin...

I hope you are ready for a long, bumpy and fun ride because this'll be a long one. Padmé always knew what she wanted since she was just a little girl. Anakin always knew what he wanted since he was just a little boy but what neither of them planned... was each other. Padmé is your typical good girl, while Anakin is your typical rule-breaking bad boy. Neither are looking for love, Padmé just focuses on her dreams and goals while you have Anakin who sleeps around for fun, enjoying his college years while he can.

As it turns out, the Force (or Universe or whathaveyou) has other plans for them and that is... each other. Opposites attract, right? I totally believe in that, so doesn't physics.

For the record, BU Men's Ice Hockey Team won five National Championship titles, however, in this fanfic it's seven times as will be touched on in this story. Eh, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say that in this fanfic, Anakin and his team won the last two National Championships bringing the total up to seven. If you wonder why he's so arrogant, even though he always was, even in canon, that's why. He has good reason to be, winning two National Championships and a Hobey Baker Award which is awarded to the top NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey Player is a good reason. A really good reason. And lastly, the NHL Entry Draft drafting process somewhat eludes me, I may be taking it in the wrong direction here, but if I am then please send me a PM to correct me. However, to my understanding and from what I read up on, a college hockey player over the age of 20 and a half years old isn't eligible for the draft but can sign an entry level contract with an NHL team which is precisely what Anakin would do.

Last note, this story will have plenty of hockey in it. We're just getting started here, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are ready for the rest to come! Next chapter will be back in Padmé's POV and will start on their next class day, Thursday morning where we meet her roommates and best friends Dormé and Sabé.

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