Page 21 of Boots & Scars

"Holly's going to think I've lost it," I murmured to myself as I pictured her reaction to my recounting yesterday's adventure. She'd been encouraging me to take more risks, to live outside the pages of history books and equations.

"Everly!" Holly's voice cut through my reverie as she approached with her characteristic bounce. "How did it go?"

I turned toward her, thoughts of Zack momentarily shelved as I prepared to share the relief of finishing what had consumed so much of my time these past weeks.

"The last essay question threw me for a loop, but I think I managed to salvage it," I said. "I think. What about you?"

Holly's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I'm not sure," she admitted. Her fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the strap of her bag. "A lot of the questions felt like they had multipleanswers." She shook her head, her brows knitting together. "I think I'm going to head back to my dorm and study for my chem final. It's my last one. Want to come with? I know you don't have chem, but still. You could help me."

My thoughts drifted back to the ice, how it glistened under the lights, beckoning. "Actually, I think I'm going to ice skate for a bit," I said. "The Titans are focused on playoffs, and that means more ice time for everyone else. Your dad was kind enough to say the Phys Ed students could come during free skate to get used to it before our official class starts next quarter."

Holly smirked. "Is this about the skate guy?"

I looked away, heat creeping into my cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It is, you stalker," Holly teased. A chuckle escaped her as she gave me a nudge. "Well, have fun. And don't forget to tell me all about it."

Holly's laughter faded into the thrum of campus life as we parted ways, her figure soon swallowed by the throng of students.

Alone now, my steps gravitated toward Pandora's Box. The building loomed ahead, its frosted glass facade reflecting the grey skies above, an icy castle in the midst of a bustling academic kingdom. Pushing through the doors, I entered a world where cold bit at my skin and the scent of freshly zambonied ice filled my lungs. The hum of conversation from the stands mixed with the occasional scrape of skate blades against ice, creating a symphony unique to this frozen haven.

I walked past rows of empty bleachers that stretched up like steps to an icy throne.

After a quick change in the locker room, I approached the skate counter with a heart that seemed to drum louder than usual. My eyes darted around, searching for Zack among the few rink attendants bustling about, but he was nowhere to be seen.I chewed my bottom lip, a knot forming in my stomach. Was I being silly? Perhaps he wasn't even working today.

With a sigh, I glanced over at the rink and there was Cooper, gliding across the ice with an effortless command that drew my gaze. His presence was magnetic; grace and aggression interwoven into each powerful stroke.

From this distance, his scars were not hidden by distance or dim lighting; they were there for all to see, crisscrossing his face like lines on a treasure map that hinted at stories untold. They didn't detract from his rugged features but added a depth that intrigued me more than any flawless facade could.

Cooper moved with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of the ice beneath him, his tall frame cutting through the chill air as if he was part of it. Each pivot and turn was sharp and decisive—there was no hesitation in his movements. It was as though he danced with danger itself, his scars evidence of past partners in this perilous ballet.

Although, I was assuming. I didn't actually know how he got his scars.

I edged closer to the glass without realizing it, drawn in by this solitary figure whose very essence seemed to challenge the stillness of Pandora's Box. He was a lone warrior on a vast battlefield; even without an opponent or audience he skated with a fierce intensity that commanded attention.

As Cooper spun into a sudden stop, ice shavings flying like confetti around him, I caught myself holding my breath. The arena's chill seeped deeper into my bones, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from him—this man who skated as if each stroke bore his defiance against an unseen adversary.

Cooper's gaze found mine through the pane of glass, his eyes a stark contrast to the icy world around him. For a moment, we were locked in that silent exchange, the world narrowing to justthe two of us. His intensity made me feel exposed, like he could see every thought flitting through my mind.

He skated towards the edge of the rink, his movements fluid and commanding. "You need something, sugar?" he asked, stepping off the ice with a practiced ease. "Or are you staring because you like what you see?"

I shifted uncomfortably, my cheeks warming despite the cold air. "Skates, please."

"Skates," he repeated flatly, his voice carrying an edge.

I nodded, feeling small under his scrutiny.

"Why?" His question hung in the air, a challenge more than an inquiry.

"Dean Walker says we could skate," I explained, trying to steady my voice. "I want to skate."

"Oh, you do, do you?" His tone was skeptical, almost accusatory. "Are you trying to be a pain in my ass? Did Walker tell you to do this to me?"

"What? No," I stammered, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor. "I'm just... I'd like to know how to skate."

Cooper grunted and stepped off the ice entirely. The sound of his skates against the rubber mats echoed in the empty arena as he approached the counter where the skates were stored. He moved with a purpose that suggested he didn't entertain time-wasters.

As he rummaged through a rack of skates, I took a moment to steady my breathing. The intensity of our exchange left me feeling both excited and unnerved. Cooper's presence was like a force of nature—unyielding and unpredictable.

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