There’s nobody else exploring the barren gardens in the winter. The muffled quiet that accompanies a fresh coat of snow has settled over the area. It’s exactly what I need. There’s been so much noise in my life lately. At the house, at games, on campus. It’s too much. I’ve been taking these breaks away from the rest of the team to keep them from catching me when I get overwhelmed.
My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I pull it out. Coach. Interesting. My sigh is accompanied by a misty cloud in the cold air. Should definitely grab that.
“Coach.”
“Whitaker, we’ve got a meeting lined up after practice with the AD and PR teams. You’re expected to be there.”
My feet trace a tight path around a snow-covered fountain as if my body is mimicking the thoughts spinning circles in my head.
“What’s going on?”
“You’ll find out when you get there.” His words are abrupt, but I can hear the buzz of conversation in the background. He’s probably busy.
“It’s going to be fine. Nothing to worry about.” It’s like he could sense my anxiety rising, but that’s one of the worst things to say without giving further details.
“I’ll be there, Coach.” Of course I will.
Hopefully, I can keep it together today. The calm peacefulness of the place has been shattered thanks to the unexpected break in my routine, so I may as well head to the arena. We don’t start for another forty-five minutes, but I can entertain myself. There’s a half-hour break between figure skating practice and the start of our ice time, so it should be nice and quiet there.
The snow falls faster as I pick up my pace to head across campus. Back on the main path, people are rushing back and forth. Everyone is buried in thick coats with hoods pulled low to protect them from the wind.
Well, most people. As I’m passing by the stone steps leading up to the library, I spot a girl who stands out. Instead of a thick coat and mittens, she’s got on a thin red sweater, and her blonde hair is hanging loose over her shoulders. She’s swiping away at it to keep the wind from whipping it in her face.
Her arm is stretched out, holding one of those ridiculous selfie sticks out as she talks to the camera. Her eyes light up when they land on me.
“Beau! Come here.”
I squint, trying to figure out how I know her. Then my eyes fall shut, and dread creeps in. Great.
“I’m heading to the arena, Vivian. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Probably not. One of the reasons I chose Lakeview, aside from the fantastic hockey program, was to give myself some distance from the kids I grew up with. The ones I attended private school with. The ones who are only interested in being my friend because of my family, my wealth, and the advantages they get from that.
Vivian is the one exception. The only one who somehow ended up here too. Her father’s company has a partnership with my father. She was at a party at my parent’s house over the holidays, but she was glued to her phone the entire time, filming for her socials.
“Just a quick shot.” She grabs my arm, dragging me in closer to her side until I’m in her frame. “Hey, guys. It’s Beau Whitaker. You got a glimpse of him from my holiday day in the life videos, and some of you were asking for more.”
I turn to her, confused, and then look at the camera. “Are you live?”
“Of course. I had to let everyone see how gorgeous campus looks with the recent snowfall.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, looking at me expectantly.
“And you had to do it with no coat?”
The shrill tone of her laugh sounds a little forced, and it grates on my eardrums.
“I’m good. Used to the cold. Tell everyone what you’re up to.”
My jaw aches from how tightly I’m clenching it, and my fingers are drumming a familiar pattern within my gloves.
“Heading to hockey practice. Don’t want to be late.” I give a salute and pull my arm out of her grasp.
She laughs again. “Oh well. He’s a busy man, but I’m sure I can snag him later for another video.”
Not likely. I hurry away; even more tense as I pick up my pace.
I swing around to the back of the arena, knowing I won’t run into anyone there unless some of my team shows up early. And I can deal with them.
Before heading in, I throw my arms against the concrete slab of a wall beside the door, dropping my head down to drag in a few deep breaths. I don’t like taking this disturbed energy through the door with me. Need to walk in with a clear head.
The back hall is empty, the clomping of my boots muted on the rubber-matted floor, and my feet automatically take me toward the ice. It’s too early to get dressed, and the one place guaranteed to give me some peace is an empty rink.
