Fake Skating(20)

Dani had always been pretty because of her laugh and the way she was so carefree. Her Dani-nessmade her impossible to look away from.

The girl I’d knocked down in the hallway, though—she was a drop-dead stunner. All that wavy blond hair, those big brown eyes and black glasses… it fucking worked.

Not that I cared.

I wasn’t a dick, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t felt good to turn around and walk away like I’d never seen her before.

Because she didn’t matter anymore.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath when I heard the whistle, because warm-ups were over and I’d barely registered any of it. I was on fucking autopilot, which was the last thing I needed to be when I had a game.

I needed to be on. I needed to be intentional.

I needed to be proactively on top of every move being made by every player in a fucking blue jersey. Shutting down Simley was the only thing that mattered, especially when I knew there were scouts in the seats.

Fuckingfocus, dipshit.

A few years back, I used to get myself pumped up by imagining Dani watching me play in the NHL someday—while she was married to some loser and regretting her decisions. Regretting what she did.

It’d worked at the time, but I didn’t need that motivational shit anymore.

She was nothing, and hockey was everything.

I jumped the boards and took down some water, redirecting my thoughts from her to the game as Coach started drawing out plays on his clipboard.

And by the time the puck dropped, she was long gone from my mind.

We struck first as Bauer snapped a shot past Simley’s goalie on an odd-man rush, and then Richie made it 2–0 as he finished off a pretty passing play with Kirchner and Hardina. We had a shitty second period overall, and Vinny had to make some saves when we were leaking oil a little bit, but in the end we pulled it off and got the win.

A gutty effort, an ugly fucking dub.

But a win was a win.





CHAPTER NINE Dani




“You came back,” Cassie said with a smile, standing just inside the front doors as if she’d been waiting for me.

“Wait—did I have a choice?” I replied as I lowered my hood, welcoming the warm air on my face.

But the truth was that I was no less nervous today than I’d been yesterday.

Southview had A-days and B-days, with a different rotating schedule for each day, which meant that since yesterday had been an A-day, today was a B-day and yet another day of new classes.

Like a second first day of school.

And the fact that Alec hadn’t looked happy to see me yesterday was messing with my head. I didn’t understand his reaction—if anyone had a reason to look unhappy, it was me—but it made me nervous to run into him again.

And, as if all that wasn’t bad enough, one of my B-day classes was public speaking, a requirement for all seniors at Southview.

So, yes—I was actually more nervous for my second first day than I’d been for my first.

Because I was the type of person who would’ve been queasy over public speaking even if I’d attended this school my entire life; speaking in front of other people just wasn’t my thing.

But having this class at a new school—total nightmare.

I just prayed I didn’t have one of those speech teachers who thought it would be great to force you to tell people a little bit about yourself on the very first day.

“I suppose you didn’t, but I’m happy to see you, regardless,” Cassie said. “Showing you around is way more interesting than just going to my boring classes.”

“Yeah,” I said, still a little unsure how to talk to someone so outgoing. Human nature made me want to open up because she seemed so nice, but experience had taught me that was a terrible idea.

“Let’s head toward your first class,” she said. “Because it’s over on the northwest side of the building, which is a little farther.”

We started walking, and I felt slightly less conspicuous than I had the day before, thank God. Cassie was so incredibly nice that even though I knew better, I found myself telling her about my visit to the counselor’s office.

And dammit—it felt nice, having someone sympathize with my difficulties.

“So did you do anything last night, after that letdown?” she asked as we passed by the library. “I feel like everyone was at the hockey game, but I suspect you were not.”

“No, I just stayed home and unpacked some boxes,” I said.

I actually managed to get my entire room unpacked andtalk to my dad on the phone, although that ended with me feeling emotionally drained.

I had such a weird, complicated relationship with him.

Ninety percent of the time, I thought of him as “the colonel” in my head. He was strict, by the book, a pretty distant father but a very good man.

Upstanding citizen and born leader, absolutely impossible to relate to.

But the other ten percent of the time, when he let his guard down… that was when I missed him so much it hurt.

Because during those rare moments, he’d do things like send a funny meme that I suspected he didn’t understand but somehow knew I’d love, or have flowers delivered that let me know he was actually thinking of me. My entire life had been me watching him with wide eyes, breathlessly waiting for those few and far between occasions when he was “Dad” instead of “the colonel.”