I inhale deeply and try again. “Would you like to ride with me to campus?”
Thea turns the faucet on and allows her mug to fill with water before dumping it out. “I think I’m okay to walk.”
“That’s dumb. We both have class at nine, in the same building. Why would you walk?”
Thea doesn’t say anything. I move closer to her. Our hips touch. I set my coffee cup down into the sink and when her hand reaches for the faucet, I set mine on top of hers. She doesn’t pull away, at least not at first. What I wouldn’t give to touch her again, like the night she spent in my bed. If there weren’t so many extra ears around, always listening, I’d blurt out everything I want to say, but I can’t. She can’t know how sorry I am until I get her alone and she’s done everything in her power to keep that from happening.
“Thea.” Her name, coming from my mouth, is smooth and sweet. “Let me drive you to school.”
She says nothing. Instead, she turns and walks away. I don’t know how long I stay in the kitchen, but it’s long after she’s walked out the front door.
I’m the first one on the ice. The clock reads ninety minutes. An hour and half until game time. I stand there and stare at it until it starts ticking off the seconds. The other team is in the visitor locker room hyping themselves up to take us on. They have nothing to prove, and we have everything to lose. I look up and count the twenty banners hanging from the rafters. There are just two years, in the last twenty-two, when we haven’t won the conference championship. This is how long NU has been a prominent force in men’s hockey. At the other end of the arena, where the doors to the concession stand are, four national championship banners fly, along with two for our women’s team. Players come here to play for the best, and to be the best. There is nothing mediocre about our program. To win is an expectation and one we’ve put on ourselves.
The rest of my team comes out. We skate around the ice a few times and then break off into groups to stretch or practice moves. The sound system blares “Enter Sandman” by Metallica, and I smile.
“You know this is your new nickname, right?” Jude hollers toward me.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“It’s because he’s killing everyone on the ice,” Marty blurts out. I’ll gladly take his definition over the actual meaning of the song any day. After five minutes, we switch. Jude is in goal and we’re firing shots at him. Nothing too aggressive because we don’t want him exerting himself before he has to, but enough to warm him up. When the horn sounds, we leave the ice and head back to the locker room for a twenty-minute chat. We go over strategy, who is guarding who, what plays we are going to run, and the line switch. When we get the signal from our manager, we head back out with me leading the pack.
I stand at the door, leading to our bench. When the lights go down and the music starts, the team files out, one by one. I give everyone a high-five as they pass by, with me being the last one on the ice. I do one half loop and then line up on the line, facing the American flag. After the anthem is sung, the line-ups are announced, and it’s time to drop the puck.
Before I make my way to the center, I stop by my goalie. “One period at a time,” I say to Jude.
“One goal at a time,” he replies.
I skate toward the middle, bending at the waist halfway there. When I get to the center, I stare at my opponent. He knows I’m the best and he wants to be me. That’s my mindset and he can’t change it. No one can.
The official blows his whistle. I focus on the black disc in his hand. My stick is poised, ready, and the second the puck hits the ice the blade of my stick is moving it toward Brad and my shoulder is pushing the other center out of my way. He attempts to grab my shirt, but my arm swings over the top of his hands and he has no choice but to let go. “Get the fuck off me,” I say for good measure. Right now, I’m public enemy number one. Everyone on this team and every team we play wants to take me down. They want the number one ranking all to themselves, but there is no way I’m letting them have it. I have too much riding on my season.
When the line shift happens, I take my seat on the bench. The manager hands me a bottle filled with water. I squirt it into my mouth and happen to glance to my right. Thea is sitting there, right next to the bench and in the front row. Not gonna lie, I love that she’s a hockey chick and wish I could find a way to talk to her about Thanksgiving weekend. Maybe I need to resort to old-fashioned note writing because the texts I send her have all gone unanswered. This woman is playing hard to get. Strike that—she’s playing hard to forget, and something tells me she knows it.
When the announcer tells us there’s one minute left to play, relief washes over me. This game is boring. We’re up seven to nothing, and I’ve added a hattrick to my resume to go with two assists. When we reach the five-minute mark of the third period, Coach tells me to rest. He also pulls Jude to give the back-up goalie some minutes.
“Good game,” Coach says as he goes down the line, congratulating all of us. “Rose, you’re really putting on a show.”
“Thanks,” I say to him. Jude bumps my shoulder.
“Get it, Sandman.”
Once the buzzer sounds, we all head onto the ice and meet together as a team. After we talk quickly, we line up, shake the other team’s hands, and then head into the locker room. Coach doesn’t say much, except he reminds us not to get busted drinking or serving underaged kids any alcohol. This is a big fear of mine, which means I won’t drink anything tonight and after I make an appearance, I’ll likely go to bed because I want no part of the alcohol consumption happening tonight.
When Jude and I come out of the arena, Thea is there. Part of me wishes she waited for me, but I know she’s waiting for her brother, as she should be.
“Wow, you guys played awesome.”
“Thanks,” Jude says. “Hey, I gotta run to the store, can you get a ride back with Kyler?”
Yes, please.
“Oh, perfect. I need to go to the store.”
“All right then,” Jude says. “Ky, do you need anything?”
I shake my head slowly, never taking my eyes off Thea. “Nah, I’m good. See you at home.” I’m willing to bet Thea doesn’t need a damn thing at the store. She just doesn’t want to be alone in the car with me. I stay there until they’re out of sight and then drag my sorry ass to my car. I have to find a way to fix things, if not for my sanity, then definitely for a peace of mind. I don’t like knowing Thea is pissed at me. The feeling is rather uncomfortable.
Nineteen