“And look where that’s getting you.” I scoot closer to him, leaving a sliver of safe and comfortable space between us. “The stress you are putting on yourself is causing your panic attacks.”
“How do I stop stressing?” he asks me as if I have all the answers. To that specific question, I wish I did.
Hearing him speak about our first love cuts me deeper than it should. It was taken away from me unexpectedly, but he’ll lose it all on his own. If he continues at this rate, Cooper will burn himself out.
“I don’t have all the answers,” I tell him truthfully and cautiously, “but I’m going to help you. Case study or not.”
“That sounds awfully like something a friend would do.”
“Don’t push it.” I tilt my head, brow arched playfully. “I’m doing this for our mutual love of the sport.”
Or because deep down he is my friend. Shoved away in the back of the closet that you stick junk in, tell yourself you are going to organize but never get around to, and somehow ten years later it has accumulated enough stuff that if you open the door it’ll cause an avalanche. That’s where our friendship is. I didn’t throw it away, only put it in a place I’d hopefully forget about it.
Except Cooper never let me forget about it, or him.
“For starters, I don’t think you need extra ice time. Your schedule is already jam packed with classes for your major—and everything else you said yes to.” Like me, my case study, and being my dating coach. “The extra what? One…”
He makes a thumbs up, motioning it upward for me to increase the number.Is he serious? He can’t be.
“Two.” Cooper doesn’t do it again. “Three?”
“Depends on the day.”
“When has that ever been healthy?” I scold him. “Maybe an hour, but Cooper, you have to cut back. Your body needs rest.”
“Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll try. Coach is meeting me in thirty minutes to work on a few skills with me. I was going to skate around till then, maybe run some drills, but…” He pauses and his eyes dip to the ground, then back to me. “Would you want to skate with me till then?”
I gulp, tug at the top of my sweater. My PT hasn’t cleared me to skate again yet, but I want to. Especially right now. The pull to get back on the ice has never been stronger. I feel stronger. Running, cycling, and staying consistent with the stretches and workouts she’s given me has helped.
“No.” His face immediately falls, and for the second time today Cooper Carmichael cuts me a little bit deeper. “I haven’t been cleared yet,” I quickly add, like it’s helpful.
“Right, your knee.”
I fiddle with a curl, tugging on the end and wrapping it around my finger. Swallow heavily. Cooper fidgets, jaw flexes, and if I didn’t know better, he’s wearing his remorse.
I spot Coach returning. “I’ll see you Thursday. Seven, my place.”
“It’s a date.”
“Not even close.”
ELEVEN
SUTTON
I swearI blink and it’s Thursday. But that’s college for you…sort of. College is this weird matrix where days are quick but the years go by within a flash of a camera. Pictures taped and pinned around my room are the only reminders of the memories collected over the past two and a half years. But these days are also long. Sunlight stretching and bleeding into the night, hourless and boundless, somehow letting me accomplish my to-do list and more.
Eighteen credit hours, my independent study on top of it. Classes in the mornings. Labs and case studies littering my evenings, appointments with my PT and therapist squeezed in between the cracks. Moments spent lying on the couch studying or procrastinating with Elliot, a rom-com or dramatic reality TV show lightly echoing in the background. Weekends or random intrusions from our friends, because the proximity of a college campus is unmatched, people that start as strangers quickly become your family.
Sometimes I don’t ever want college to end. Lucky for me—I send up a wish to the universe, manifesting or whatever people call it—I’ll get four to six more.
I think people take it for granted. The opportunity to attend. The chance to be on your own for the first time, even if it’s disguised behind roommates and your parents sending you money for beer in a weekly card. The unknown destination and adventure to discover yourself.
Since I was first asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’ve thought about college. That picture became detailed when asked what school I wanted to play hockey for. It was almost as if I could reach out and grab it. And I almost did.
Everything had been falling into place…for the most part. I hadn’t gotten an offer from my dream school, but my second choice—Lakeland University—was right there eager for me.
Freshman year checked one box after another. A roommate that became my best friend. A friend group that feels like a family, albeit Cooper. A major and coursework that is challenging but doable. A month in and already having a boyfriend I was head over heels for. And hockey. I might not have been starting as I hoped or my coach had anticipated, but all signs were pointing to a strong recovery and future.
