I tossed a small stone I found, letting it bounce off the surface of the frozen lake, wishing I brought my skates with me. Soon enough, the ice would start to melt, and I would have to wait another year to be back here, playing with my guys.
But hockey was the last thing on my mind right now. After one of the worst mornings in the past couple of weeks, I decided to walk away.
I would’ve given everything to have her here with me, looking at this beauty in front of me, but Sophie made her decision. I’d be damned if I pushed when it was obvious that she didn’t want me. Maybe she felt something.
Maybe she loved me once, but after what I did, that love turned into ice. I fucking hated the detachment in her eyes. I hated the cold indifference with which she observed me, as if she was handling a wild animal and not talking to a person that was once her best friend.
It took me three months to realize that she was it for me, and it was obvious that in those three months, everything changed. She wasn’t the Sophie I knew.
She wasn’t the girl that made me do mud masks in the middle of the summer because she saw it on television. She wasn’t the girl that cried when the Joker died in the last installment ofThe Dark Knighttrilogy. Something changed, and there was a voice inside my head, telling me that it wasn’t all about that night.
It was almost impossible to believe her when she said that she forgave me. And I wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t for that panic on her face, that sadness and those tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks.
But I wondered—was it possible that I imagined that look on her face the other day? Was it possible that the longing I saw there was actually something else, and what I saw was just my mind playing tricks on me because it was what I wanted to see?
No, it couldn’t be.
But as I stood here, staring at the dark skies gathering above, casting shadows, I had to admit that maybe, just maybe, she truly didn’t want me in her life anymore. Maybe it was true what they said—that people outgrew each other.
Maybe she and I wasted too much time pretending we were something else, when the girl I wanted to grow old with always stood right there. Maybe I was too late.
“I knew I would find you here.” I turned around, seeing Jared in his red hoodie, looking at me with sympathy.
“What are you doing here?”
I was too short with him, too angry at myself and everything that’s been going on. I wished I could just turn around and go back to her. I wished I could shake her and make her see the truth—that I was in love with her.
I was in love with the girl that wanted nothing to do with me. I was in love with the girl that until recently was the only real person standing by my side. I fucked us up.
Why couldn’t I have gained enough confidence to tell her how I felt before all this happened? Why did I wait so long?
“Bianca spoke to me.” Of course she did. “She didn’t tell me the specifics, but judging by that look on your face, I can only assume that shit went down this morning. Didn’t it?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it, Jared. I really don’t.”
“Fine.” He lifted his hand in surrender and came closer to me. “We don’t have to talk. We can just sit here in silence.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Well tough luck, buttercup. You’re stuck with me. Whether you like it or not, I’m your friend.”
Sophie was my friend as well and look what I did to us.
“You should take advice from Sophie, J. I suck at being friends with people.”
“Nah.” He put his hand on my shoulder, smiling. “You only suck at being friends with people you’re in love with, and I definitely don’t look like Sophie.”
I almost chuckled at that. Almost.
“I mean, you do have some girlish features, bro,” I teased. “Are you entirely sure you’re actually not a girl?”
He pushed at my shoulder, laughing along with me. “Fuck off.”
“And those eyebrows… Damn, are you plucking them?”
“I like to look nice, okay?”
“No judgment here, you know that. But seriously. Maybe if you put on some makeup, we could pass you for a girl.”
