Page 67 of Stay
I force a smile. “Yeah.”
He jerks his head toward the ice for a second time. “Then get out there.”
Nerves prickle along my skin as I secure my helmet and shove my hands into my gloves before meeting his gaze. “Okay.”
Even though it feels like I’m walking to my death, I inhale deeply before stepping onto the ice and skating toward the team.
Fifty minutes later, sweat is pouring down my face as I race withthe black rubber puck toward the goal. Two defensive players are nipping at my heels. Their labored breaths fill my ears as one of them tries to backcheck me by knocking the puck from behind. Adrenaline pounds through my system. When I’m ten feet away from the net, I wind up before pulling my stick forward and hitting the puck toward the goal. The black disc lifts from the ice toward the five-hole between the goalie’s legs. It flies past her as she dives for it.
I pump my fist into the air and circle the net. I can’t believe how good this feels. Cole had been right. This wasn’t the best group of girls I’d ever played with, but it was fun.
So much fun.
Sammy breathes hard as she stops next to me. “Damn, you’re fast.” She elbows me when I grin back in response.
She’s not the only one breathing hard.
“You’re going to play with us, right?”
“I’d love to,” I say with a laugh, unable to believe how much I want that.
As I skate back to center ice, I realize that I haven’t looked for Cole since I skated onto the ice almost an hour ago. Did he stick around and watch me practice with the team?
I’m not nearly as good as I once was, but I kind of want him to see me in action. My gaze coasts over the bleachers, only to realize that he isn’t there. I shouldn’t feel hurt that he didn’t bother to stick around and share this moment with me.
But I do.
For some reason, it matters more than I want it to.
18
CASSIDY
Idon’t hear from Cole for the rest of the weekend. By Sunday night, I finally break down and shoot him a text. He answers it, but like the car ride to the rink, the distance is palpable. And because I’m unwilling to put myself out there, I don’t bother to contact him again. It only confuses me more as to what we are to one another, if anything.
I thought for sure he’d be waiting outside the dorms early Monday morning for our usual run, but I failed to see the text he sent late Sunday night saying he wouldn’t be able to make it. So, I ran by myself. Instead of being an easy and relaxing job, it just felt lonely.
He’s pulling away.
I can feel it happening.
Even if I wanted to fix what’s wrong, I wouldn’t know how.
When he doesn’t show for Psychology later that morning, I begin to wonder if something is really wrong with him. For ten solid minutes, I debate the merits of shooting him another text when someone in a back row barks out a laugh. As I swing around, my gaze slides over a familiar dark head.
My breath catches.
Cole is sitting at the back of the amphitheater-style lecture hall. Iblink and realize that Sammy is parked next to him, and their heads are bent toward one another. Shock and hurt crash over me as I spin around, not wanting either of them to catch me staring.
After class is over, I purposely linger, slowly packing up my stuff before taking a deep breath and turning toward the exit.
It’s a relief to find them both gone.
Tuesday night, I attend my first official practice for the women’s intramural hockey team. Since Sammy owns a car, she offers to pick me up. Even though she’s the last person I want to hitch a ride with, I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Not having my own transportation means I have to bum rides. And as much as I’d like to hate her, I can’t blame her for wanting to be with him.
Cole is amazing.
Maybe I’ve only spent an hour or so with Sammy, but she’s pretty and athletic. And she’s nice. But not in a sweet, simpering, phony-baloney kind of way. It’s more like aI’ll kick-your-ass-because-I-don’t-take-any-shit-from-anyonekind of way.
