When my eyes flashed to hers, a deep blush stained her cheeks. Her eyes darted to the plants. “Sorry, Annie got it in my head. She was teasing me that you were my boyfriend because we’ve spent the whole summer together, and I just… you kinda are, aren’t you?” she asked with a weak grin.
I lowered my shovel while panic roared to life inside my chest. “But I’m leaving…”
“Oh, I know, but I figured we can talk on the phone and text and stuff? I mean…” She shook her head. “I like you. And I thought—” She froze, looking caught in indecision. “I thought…”
“I like you, too,” I said quickly. “I do, Ali. I just think long distance might…” I swallowed hard. “We’re really young, ya know? I don’t want it to ruin us. I figured we’d wait. I’m going to be really busy with hockey. I’m trying to make it, ya know?”To the NHL. For us,I wanted to say. I wanted to make it forus.
“I know.” She closed her eyes and shook her head out. “That was so stupid, forget I said anything.”
We went back to working in silence, but I could’ve kicked myself for how badly I fumbled the conversation. “I’m sorry, Ali. I do like you, and I do want us to be together, but it’s bad timing,” I tried. “And you’re my best friend. My parents dated when they were really young.” I licked my lips. “Too young, and it just…”It scares the shit out of me, I mentally finished. My hand shook as I tossed my shovel away. “You’re getting back out on the ice in a couple weeks, right?” My eyes dipped to her arm, which was still in a sling, but the cast was now gone.
She kept her eyes lowered as she nodded.
“Good. That’s good. You’re excited, right?”
She bit her lip and stared at the mums for a beat before nodding again.
“All your focus is gonna be on skating, and mine’s gonna be on hockey, ya know? I’m gonna be really busy with hockey,” I repeated, hating myself as I said the words, but saying them anyway.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s fine. It was stupid of me to assume,” she said in a strained voice. Her eyes bounced around, like she was trying to piece thingstogether. “I hope hockey’s fun,” she said before standing and brushing her good hand off on her jean shorts. “Bathroom,” she murmured.
“Ali, no, wait…” I tried, but she was already power-walking into the shop with her head down.
She left work early that day with red-rimmed eyes.
I wanted to take back everything I said, but…I couldn’t.
I was scared.
No, I was terrified.
I was terrified of the pressure. I was terrified that I’d distract her from skating and then she’d resent me. I was terrified we’d try long distance and then it would blow up in our faces and I wouldn’t be able to save us because we were too far apart.
And I needed to focus on hockey.
It wasn’t until after our season started that I realized what a huge miscalculation I made. I thought junior hockey would fill my entire schedule, but we had a lot of downtime, almost too much downtime. Kappy filled his day with sleeping and videogames. Colt spent his extra time at the rink working with younger kids and learning to ref. I was enrolled in online classes, but it wasn’t the best program and I finished super early each day…
And then I had nothing to occupy my mind except for missing her.
So, yeah. I needed to fix this.
I needed to fix thistonight.
_________
Each time I got off the ice after my shift that night, my eyes went directly to the three girls sitting in section 30A. Games usually felt like they lasted all of five minutes, but tonight, this game seemed to drag on forever. I couldn’t wait to rip off my skates and finally see her, hug her, justbewith her.
The next shift out, I stripped a guy of the puck in the corner and fed it up to Colt, who took off for a breakaway. Only problem, Colt held the puck a little too long before taking a shot and ended up smashing into the boards. A second later, an opposing defenseman purposely crashed into him—afterthe whistle—making Colt’s helmet fly off. Colt immediately started swinging at the guy, completely ignoring the ref blowing his whistle.
I hung my head for a second, really hoping this wouldn’t escalate, because a brawl would make this game drag on even longer.
I knew better than to have that hope.
Kappy was next to start fighting with the player next to him. The crowd was absolutely loving it. Kids sitting on the boards were pounding on the glass, urging them to keep punching. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of their forwards, #18, moving toward the fray.
“C’mon, don’t be stupid,” I whispered under my breath at #18. I started gliding at the same pace as him, just in case. “They have it handled,” I complained.
But of course #18 had to be stupid.
