Defensive Zone A Lesbian College Sports Romance – Melly Tenn

I whispered. “If it lands in the tail,” Sloane said, her voice dropping to a hush, “it goes in the net. It is a significant event. It is unlikely to happen by chance. And if you score a goal, what happens to the tie?” “It’s broken,” I said. “Exactly,” Sloane said. Her eyes were bright. “You reject the tie. You reject the Null Hypothesis. You say: I have enough evidence to prove that we are winning.” I stared at the drawing. The Null was the tie. The Alternative was the win.

The middle was the goalie making saves. The tails were the goals. It clicked. I felt a physical sensation in my brain, like a gear slamming into place. The fog that had been clouding my vision for the last hour evaporated. “So,” I said slowly, leaning over the paper. “The alpha level… the 0.05…” “That is the size of the net,” Sloane said. “A small alpha level means a small net. It is hard to score. You need a really, really good shot to prove you are better.

If the P-value—your shot—is smaller than the net…” “It goes in,” I finished. Sloane nodded. She set the pencil down. “Try the problem again,” she said softly. I picked up the pencil. My hand wasn’t shaking anymore. I looked at the numbers. Mean = 25. Sample = 27. I set up the Null. $H_0$: The training did nothing. The speed is still 25. (Tie Game). I set up the Alternative. $H_1$: The training worked. The speed is not 25. (We Scored).

I grabbed my calculator. I punched in the Z-score formula. (27 – 25) divided by the standard error. I hit enter. I looked at the chart. I looked at the critical value for 0.05. The cutoff was 1.96. 2.15 was bigger than 1.96. My shot was past the goalie. It was in the tail. “The Z-score is 2.15,” I said. I looked up at Sloane. “That’s in the critical region. It’s in the goal.” “So what is your decision?” Sloane asked. She was leaning forward, her breath held.

“Since 2.15 is in the rejection region,” I said, my voice gaining strength, “we reject the Null Hypothesis. The evidence is significant. The training program works.” I looked at her. “We won the game.”

Copyright © 2025 by Melly Tenn All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Melly Tenn asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Melly Tenn has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners.

The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book. First edition This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com OceanofPDF.com Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 OceanofPDF.com Chapter 1 POV: CASEY The only place in the world that made sense was inside the blue lines.

Everything else was noise. The classroom was a blur of whiteboards and droning voices I could never quite tune into. The dorms were too small and smelled like stale popcorn. The real world was full of expectations and taxes and forms I didn’t know how to fill out.

But this? This was simple. My skate blades carved a deep, satisfying gouge into the fresh surface of the rink. I pushed off my left foot, feeling the familiar bite of steel against ice, and let the momentum carry me. Cold air rushed into my lungs. It tasted like chemicals and winter. It tasted like home. “Rhimes! Stop dreaming and start skating!” Coach Miller’s voice boomed over the empty stands, bouncing off the rafters.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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