Page 14 of Lines

“Of course it is. What else would it be about? Get in, get out, and send her on her merry way.”

I look at him, not believing the shit that leaves his mouth. “You know what?” I question, tossing dumbbell harder than necessary to its place. “I’m going on the ice because I don’t want to do or say something we’ll both regret later on so it’s better if you stay away.”

Without looking back, I storm away in the direction of the rink.

Ice has always been my comfort. I would put on my skates, do some drills, check a few guys into plexiglass a bit harder than necessary, and get all the negative energy and frustration out of me.

Hopefully, as the season doesn’t begin for a few more weeks, there won’t be anybody else in the rink and I’ll just be able to skate it all out in peace and quiet.

One would think hockey players love big, noisy places given the fact that in ice rink it’s always so loud, but once you are down there, all the loud music and uproar of the crowd become background noise. You can hear it, it makes you move forward, but all that matters is the guy across you and how to pass him to get to the goal.

When I enter, I can hear familiarswishsound of skates cutting through ice. Irritated, I want to turn around and leave. The last thing I want is company right now, but quick movement catches my eyes. Perfect stance, speed, the way that body moves is almost to perfection.

I can envision what the guy’s seeing in his head: guys standing in his way, he’s moving around them, puck almost as if it’s connected to his stick, until he’s close enough and gets an opening to shoot and score.

Whoever he is, he’s good. I’m not sure if one of the guys from the team drastically improved their skills over the summer, or if the Coach found somebody new to bring to the team. I can’t say for sure. In sweats, a hoodie, and a helmet on, it could have been anybody.

The guy skates around the goal, takes the puck, and starts moving in the other direction. He lifts his gaze and sees me looking at him. A cocky half-smile spreads on his lips as he comes toward me.

Taking off his helmet, I’m met with messy dark hair and pair of dark grey eyes. Max-fucking-Sanders.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“King,” Sanders acknowledges me with a tilt of his chin.

“Sanders,” I return in the same fashion stepping into the rink. “What are you doing on my ice?”

His dark brows rise. “I didn’t know you owned this place.”

He skates slowly from side to side like he has all the damn time in this world. The puck slides on the ice. I don’t look at it, but I can feel the way it glides over the white surface, calling me.

I grit my teeth with force. “I don’t. But rink is for Wolves use exclusively.”

Sanders chuckles smugly. “Good thing I’ll be trying out to be a Wolf then, right?”

I almost trip over my own feet. “What the ever loving fuck?!”

Sanders smirks and skates around me to the exit. “You can have the rink,” he whispers as he passes by me. “For now. But don’t get used to it.”

Amelia

“Amelia, why in the world, are you running away from the ball?” Jeanette disapprovingly shakes her head at me. “Again.”

I chase after the ball, finally able to catch it close to the end of gym, and start walking back slowly toward the unhappy half of our pair.

I hate P.E. class. I have always been clumsy and unathletic. If there exists a person in this world with two left legs, you’d be looking at her right now.

“You are putting too much force when you throw it,” I complain, but she keeps staring at me with one perfectly shaped brow raised.

Why is she my partner again?

Ohh, yeah, nobody else wants to be Jeanette Sander’s pair. She is all high and mighty and nobody is good enough to be in her proximity. I’m usually the one who likes to avoid listening to rumors, but I heard more than once people referring to her as ice queen. Beautiful, but cold, that’s what they said, comparing her character with the color of her eyes.

They aren’t too much off key. She’s so cold and standoffish. Sometimes I wonder why there isn’t ice left behind the path she walks upon. And people feel it. She’s only been in school for a week, but I don’t remember seeing her trying to talk to anybody except her brother. The only other people she spoke to were Brook and me, and she never has anything nice to say to us.

Hence, my earlier question.

But just like her—although I don’t feel good about comparison—I don’t have many friends. And my only friend isn’t in this class. So, that’s how we found ourselves paired up in a game of volleyball.

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