“There aren’t really women in the NHL,” she argues.
“Yet,” I say confidently.
“You can be the second,” Noah assures her before turning to me. “Those are for you.” He motions to a pair of skates under the bench.
“Can I stay too?” Izzie asks.
“Of course.” Noah ruffles her hair.
* * *
We warm up with laps around the rink (or at least I do) where Noah doesn’t let go of me, but then he has me doing a few drills with Izzie, like skating around cones and playing tic-tac-toe, or both of us trying to shoot pucks into a net he’s guarding. All of it is much harder than it looks, or I am just not very good. I don’t even think I would have scored more goals if the net was empty, but it’s so much fun.
After a while, Noah has Izzie shoot at the empty net while he comes up behind me to demonstrate that it’s all in the wrist and the hips, and the arena doesn’t feel so cold anymore.
“Are you having fun?” he asks after we get one in, not in a whisper, but not loud enough for Izzie to hear either.
“I can see why you love it. Gliding on the ice, getting that buzzer. I feel invincible and all I did was stand here while you manhandled me.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
Lit every nerve ending on my body and set them on fire is how I would call it, but that seems a bit much.
Izzie is watching us, her face lit up, so I bring my focus back to the puck and we do a couple more shots together before Noah lets me try it on my own again. The worst of Izzie’s teammates would still outplay me, but I’m a lot better than I was when this started.
* * *
Izzie asks me to come to every practice from now on, because this was the best, but while Noah smiles at her enthusiasm, he tells her I’m busy and can’t. She gives me a huge hug when we drop her off, and wishes me a Merry Christmas, then we’re alone again.
“Thank you for today. That was…enlightening. And fun.”
“I’m glad you came,” he tells me. “And Izzie was thrilled.”
“She’s who I want to be when I grow up.” I’m not even joking.
“Savannah James is pretty awesome,” he argues.
“She’s cool, but Izzie’s confidence and daring, her optimism…your sister is going places.”
“How’s the book coming along?”
“I can’t wait until after Wednesday, when I can just read and write without guilt until next semester.”
I have two exams left; Planets and Gothic Lit. I think Noah is done after a history elective on Monday, but I don’t know how to ask about that, or his holiday plans, without him thinking I’m trying to make plans, which he doesn’t usually like. Clay says I’ve always been such an eager beaver, asking about things I want to go to, but I think I brought up things hoping people would remember to invite me, since they rarely did on their own.
“Are you ready for Monday?” Noah asks.
“No. I plan to go home and review all my notes, every lecture, and maybe listen to Neil de Grasse Tyson while I sleep. A little osmosis, you know?”
“You could do that,” he agrees. “Or you could come over and we can study together. Quiz each other, or whatever.”
I should tell him he’s incredibly distracting, and I’ll be more focused on his lips than the words coming out of them.
“That sounds nice. I’ll take all the help I can get,” I say instead.
With Noah’s roommates back home – or in Colt’s case, Mexico – for the holidays, we have the house to ourselves, so we each review for a couple of hours, then Noah quizzes me while I make us tortellini.
We eat while watching 1917, then I quiz him while we make chocolate chip cookies.
