Chapter Seventeen
–Fletcher–
“Dig it out of the corner!” Leo shouts at me from across the rink. “Come on, man, get your head out of your ass!”
To my credit, my head is nowhere near my ass, but the large mass that makes up Jamie Isaacs happens to be fighting for the same puck. And neither of us has pads on. Leo’s brilliant idea.
My stick tangles with Jamie’s as he closes the gap between us. My breaths come quicker, heart thudding loud in my ears. Get out of this, get out now! The panic is too much, and I can’t resist the instinct to push my way out despite the fact that Leo specifically ordered me not to—
“No! What the hell are you doing, Scott?” Leo wedges himself between Jamie and me. He sets his hands on my chest and shoves hard enough to send me sliding back a couple of feet. “Did you not hear me say like five minutes ago absolutely no hitting?”
Silence falls over the rink at this early hour. My mind is still racing, my heart pounding.
Behind Leo, Jamie cracks up laughing. When Leo turns to glare at him he says, “Sorry, I think I just had a preschool flashback. No hitting, Jamie! I said no hitting!”
The tension falls from the air. Leo works hard not to grin, and when he turns back to me, he’s much calmer. “You might be playing defense, but knocking Jamie over isn’t your move. That’s Red’s. You do that, and you give Bakowski no choice but to compare you side by side. Who do you think wins that contest?”
I don’t answer that. Instead I stare at the corner of the rink Jamie and I had just been locked in, attempting to envision a new way.
“Plus, you’re not gonna plow me over,” Jamie adds. “Hate to say it, but it’s true.”
“Again?” Leo prompts.
I stare at the empty corner a beat longer and then nod. The puck is slid in front of me, and I take off with it. Seconds later, I’m pressed tight in that corner again. I force my heart to slow and my brain to remain calm. This time, instead of trying to go through Jamie, I turn in a smooth but quick circle, the puck following me in a blur of black against the white ice. Jamie’s stick reaches in to steal the puck back, but he’s too late. I’ve already sent it sliding along the outside, to no one today, but in a real game, to a teammate awaiting the chance to breakaway for the goal.
Leo skates toward the puck, stopping it with his own stick. “Not bad, Scott. Not bad at all.”
I pull my helmet off, set it on the wall, and then lift my jersey up to wipe sweat from my face. “Thanks. That felt pretty good,” I admit, and then worry creeps its way back into my stomach. “Of course, it’s much easier to think without Bakowski screaming from the bench and stands full of people staring at you…”
“Just takes experience,” Leo says. “Lots of varsity practices and games, this shit will be second nature.”
Yeah, but unfortunately, I’m a senior, and that kind of experience is expected. I gotta find a way to skip over all the mental shit and get things figured out. But I don’t say that out loud, because Leo and Jamie are already doing enough for me. The rest is my deal.
We do a few more drills, and I even attempt to teach Jamie the move I just did on him, but his turns are too slow and Leo takes the puck from him every time. I’m exhausted but feeling pretty good about my game by the time a group of kids shows up for a figure-skating class and kicks us off the big rink.
On my way to the locker room, I hear voices coming from the small rink. One very familiar voice.
Haley.
My stomach turns and knots in a very different way than it had moments ago when I was all doom and gloom over my hockey future.
Okay, what the hell is this?
Before I even spot her, I’m replaying the other night, Haley’s long hair falling forward as she leaned in to kiss me. And God, I wanted her to. I hate how much I wanted that kiss, but then she got all nervous and down on herself…it wasn’t right to push her. I’m not a pusher when it comes to that stuff. Reading body language is kind of a gift of mine, and I prefer to wait until a girl is so worked up, silently screaming with want, before I make any move of my own.
But that’s where things get confusing with Haley, because she did want it, I could feel it vibrating off her skin. Or maybe I was projecting? Maybe my wanting that kiss felt like her wanting it?
I don’t freakin’ know anymore.
Which is why it’s good that I closed the door on kissing the other night and suffered through hours of studying Civics, smelling her hair close by, enduring the clear view I had of her legs in those tiny short pajama shorts and pretending like it wasn’t doing things to me.
I stop in the doorway of the small rink, and soon Haley and her blond ponytail are in my line of sight. My gaze travels the length of her, from the bright-white figure skates to her form-fitting sweatpants, all the way up to the wide smile on her face. I almost return the smile but then realize it’s not directed at me. There’s a kid beside her. A little girl maybe nine or ten with messy brown hair, an oversize Otter hockey jersey, and a hole in the knee of her green sweatpants.
“Last time, Maddie,” another familiar voice says.
I turn to my left and spot Jake Hammond leaning against the rink wall, waving a set of car keys.
“No way,” the kid shouts at Jake. “I’m not wearing that stupid dress!”
“Jesus Christ, Maddie, you promised—”
Haley shoots Jake a look that shuts him up and then turns to the kid. “Why don’t you want to wear the dress?”
“Have you seen it?” She lifts her hands in the air, exasperated. “I never wear dresses. Everyone’s going to laugh at me—”
“Or say how pretty you look,” Jake tries.
“I hate both of those options,” the kid says, folding her arms across her chest.
When she stands with attitude on the ice, the family resemblance becomes clear. This must be Jake’s sister.
“The thing about weddings,” Haley offers, “is that the bride gets to do whatever she wants, and everyone has to go along with it. Even the ugly dresses. But the good news is that when it’s your turn, you can do whatever you want and everyone has to listen to you.”
The folded arms loosen a bit on the kid. “Even bathing suits and a Slip ’N Slide?”
“Oh yeah, even that.” Haley nods. “I just saw a YouTube video where a couple got married while going down a waterslide.”
“Cool,” the kid says. And then slowly, as if it’s taking every ounce of effort she has to offer, she skates off the ice, snatches a ruffled pink dress wrapped in plastic that I hadn’t even noticed Hammond was holding, and storms out toward the lobby.
When she’s out of sight, Haley skates over to the wall, and Jake immediately reaches for her, his arms around her shoulders. “God, I love you.”
Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. Spots form in front of my eyes. But it makes sense. The Prince and Princess of Juniper Falls. They even look like a couple.
I turn my back to them, hoping to get away without being spotted.
“I owe you big time,” I hear Hammond say.
And then Haley’s voice rings loud and clear again. “Hey, Fletch, what are you doing here?”
I have no other option except to address them, but before I can say anything, Hammond says, “Another workout with Jamie and Leo?”
Does everyone know about that?
Lucky for me, Jake’s phone rings, and with a groan he answers, “Hi Mom…we’re on our way, I swear.”
I watch Haley watching him leave. There’s amusement in her expression, but not much more than that. And I hate the relief I feel discovering this. I don’t do jealousy. Ever.
“You really are going for Red’s spot, aren’t you?” Haley says, probably assessing my sweaty state.
“Maybe.” I look her over, evening the score. “What are you doing here?”
“Racing Jake’s sister, Maddie,” she says simply. “Jake needed something to bribe with to get her in that flower-girl dress for her aunt’s wedding.”
“Is there anyone in this town whose life you’re not involved in?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, a grin shining in her eyes. “Yours.”
My stomach knots all over again.
“Until now, anyway.” She gives me a long look that sends my heart sprinting again. “Because of the Civics project.”
“The Civics project. Right.” I shake off the weird, unfamiliar feelings. “So, who won the race?”
“Tie.” Haley pushes away from the wall and skates backwards around the ice. “But I held back a little.”
“Really? You holding back? Hard to imagine,” I say before I can stop myself.
Her cheeks redden, but she holds my gaze with a determined look on her face and nods toward center ice. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Okay, sure,” I say with a grin. “Three times around?”
Instead of answering, she takes off, flying past me with surprising speed. With my late start it takes half a lap for me to pass her, and even then, I hear her behind me, close on my heels. Before we even get to the second lap, I feel fingers tugging at my shirt.
“Hey! No cheating.” I start to turn to face her, grabbing her hand in the process, but my skates come out from under me. My butt hits the ice, and then my back, and then Haley lands right on top of me.
It hurts less than I expected, but still a shock of pain radiates through me. I wait for it to fade before speaking. “Well played, Haley.”
Her eyes are wide with concern. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, seriously. I was just trying to—”
“Cheat?”
“Slow you down,” she corrects. “Your legs are much longer. Unfair advantage.”
She’s even closer now than she was the other night, and it was hard to keep a clear head then. For a moment, I’m sure she’s going to do it this time. Her mouth moves closer to mine until I can practically taste her lips. And God, I want to.
But the moment pops like a soap bubble. A sliver of doubt crosses her face, and then she pushes herself off me and sits on her knees on the ice. I pull myself up to a sitting position beside her and stare at her for several seconds. “What are you so afraid of, Haley?”
“Nothing,” she says with a shrug. “Just not feeling it, you know?”
I lift an eyebrow but don’t call her out on that lie. She was feeling it. I could feel her feeling it.
Maybe I should just kiss her. Maybe then we’ll both get out of this weird funk and go back to our regular lives.
“Are you worried you’re a bad kisser?” I ask. “Or that I’m a bad kisser?”
“You really want to know what I’m worried about?” she challenges, and then she’s up on her skates again. “I’m worried that you only want to kiss me. I’m worried about the fact that you barely trust me with anything personal—like where you work and why panties are involved—even though all I do is spill personal shit to you…” She closes her eyes and sighs. “Like right now, for example. And I’m worried that if I kiss you, it won’t be fun anymore. It’ll be something else, something more. Can you promise me that if I kiss you, it’ll just be for fun? That I won’t keep feeling things after?”
I can’t even promise that I won’t keep feeling things after.
I open my mouth to argue, but I’m too caught off guard by this version of Haley to offer anything rational. That seems to be enough of an answer for her. She nods, looking satisfied. “See? I do have a reason to hold back.”
“Haley…” I stand and skate toward her, but she lifts a hand to stop me.
“This is my deal, not yours. I’m the one with perspective issues.” She offers a smile. “And when you’re not being a complete asshole, you’re fun to hang out with. I like fun.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I like fun, too.”
But as Haley’s frustration turns to a more pleasant look directed at me, an uneasy feeling sweeps over me. As much as I hate to admit it, Haley isn’t the shallow, superficial girl I thought she was. She’s funny and smart and gorgeous…but the idea of trusting someone like her, of kissing and getting personal—I’m definitely not in the market for anything like that.
She’s confused, that’s all. Attraction and emotional connections tangle easily when you first get to know someone. I watch her retreating form, heading off the ice and away from me, and the feeling in my stomach is there all over again. Hell, I’m probably confused, too. Another reason I should just kiss her.
Next time.