Cutting Ice: A Sports Romance

by April Fire

  “So, that’s that rule broken,” I remarked, and he turned to look at me with a smile.

  Chapter Ten

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I replied. She looked so gorgeous, lying next to me on the bed like that, her hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, her eyes at the same time bright and totally relaxed.

  “I don’t think I mind too much,” she admitted playfully, and I nodded, turning to lie on my back and stare at the ceiling.

  “Yeah, I think we can let it slide for now.”

  There was a pause, and she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me with a smile on her face. After a second or so, I met her gaze.

  “What is it?” I demanded, letting one hand fall lazily on her lower back, just after her perfect ass. It was tempting to let my fingers roam further, but I fought the urge. I didn’t want to be sore for training tomorrow.

  “You’ve not got out of answering those questions, you know,” she commented. I furrowed my brow.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know why you kissed me back there,” she nodded over her shoulder, in the direction of the coffee shop. “You didn’t want to have to think about any of the stuff I was asking you about.”

  “Uh, that wasn’t it,” I sat up, pulling my hand back from her. What kind of bullshit pillow talk was this? Did she really think this is what I wanted to be talking about right now?

  “It’s cool if it was,” her eyes glinted with amusement. “Maybe I should ask you more tough questions, let you distract me again.”

  “Maybe I just don’t want to tell you everything about my life, knowing you’re going to go print it in your magazine as soon as you get the chance,” I muttered, and swung my legs out of bed. I started grabbing my clothes and getting dressed, and Emily sat up, her brow furrowed.

  “Hey, I was just kidding,” she protested, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  “Whatever,” I snapped. “I should probably go.”

  “I don’t mind if you stay the night,” she offered, but I shook my head, already checking in my pocket for my car keys.

  “I should get home,” I muttered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow, I guess,” Emily replied, and I could hear the surprise and annoyance in her voice. I ignored it, opened the door, and headed out onto the street.

  As soon as I got to my car, I grabbed the wheel and stared down at my hands. What the hell had I been thinking, coming here? How the hell did I think this was going to end? I mean, she was cool. I liked her well enough, and I couldn’t deny that we had insane chemistry. But she was...there for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of me. She had a story to come up with, characters to create, and every minute we spent together, she was likely doing that inside her head. It was an off-putting thought, one that I did my best to put to the back of my mind whenever I could. But the way she spoke to me then…as though she had a grip on me and was proud of it. Maybe I was so put out because I knew she was right, and the thought of someone who barely knew me getting me in that way was scary. Or maybe it was just because I didn’t want another person examining my motivations and my reasoning and everything that came with it. I just wanted to be left alone. Was that so much to ask? Apparently so.

  I drove fast all the way back to my apartment, glad that there was no one else on the roads for me to piss off. I wondered how fast the gossip would have spread about this night, about the kiss we shared in the coffee shop, about us staggering back to her apartment with our hands all over each other. Had she only done it in the hopes of getting something for her story? An image of her on top of me, coming, flashed through my brain. No, you couldn’t fake that kind of slack-jawed, eye-rolling pleasure, no matter how dedicated a journalist you were. There was something between us, it was just all messed up in a pile of motivations that neither of us seemed to be able to sort out.

  So, what now? I would have to avoid her. I didn’t want anything more to do with her beyond what was required from me. I would give her everything she needed to write the story, and that would be the end of that. I wasn’t required to do anything beyond being precisely pleasant to her and nothing more, and that’s what I would do. Johnson likely wouldn’t be too happy with me. He said I had trouble keeping it in my pants at the best of times, and he was probably right, but he would have to deal with it. Besides, I was done. No more Emily for me, no more anything. Because she seemed to understand me too vividly, maybe just as a character in her story, but it was still unnerving, and I didn’t like how close she felt to me. How much she seemed to know me. And how she already had some kind of opinion on what I should be doing with my future.

  I found myself driving out of town, even though it was already late and I should have been heading back to my apartment to get a good night’s sleep; I wasn’t even thinking when I took the left and turned down the road towards the spot by the river I used to go to in high school. Before I knew it, I was there,next to the bridge, the old rocks we used to hang out on still there even after all this time. I climbed out of the car and looked around, as if I half-expected a bunch of teens smuggling a covert six-pack to appear at any second. But nothing. It was just me, here down by the river, alone. The only sound once I turned my engine off was that of the river trickling quietly below me. I scrambled down the bank, sat myself down in the spot I’d had my first beer at, and looked down at the water below me, trying to calm myself.

  Could I really leave this place behind? If I left, all this--all these memories--wouldn’t be just a car ride out of town. They would be half a country away. None of this would be easy to come to. I would have to make an effort to see my parents, my friends, my old teammates. And I would have to start over. That was the scariest part. Everyone knew me here. Going out to Philadelphia, everything would start over again. I would have to prove myself, have to make myself known once more.

  And what if I failed? There was no guarantee that it wouldn’t happen. That was what struck fear into me the most If I left all this behind, it would be to great fanfare. There would be no sneaking out in the middle of the night, no getting away without people noticing. Everyone would wish me the best, and what if I couldn’t deliver on that? What if I had to come slinking back a few months later having completely fucked it up? What if I simply wasn’t good enough? I was good enough for the Crows, but there was nothing to guarantee that that would carry over to the big leagues.

  I dragged myself back to my feet and let out a sigh. Part of me, most of me, wished that I’d never gotten this chance in the first place, that coach had just dismissed the agent and told him to forget it, I never would have had to make this decision. Yeah, I would have missed out on the chance to get out of here, but I would have been able to avoid everything that came with the choice.

  I made my way back over to the car, climbed in, and sat behind the wheel for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure how long I was sitting there; I didn’t really care. It was the first time that I had really given the decision any thought. Up until then, I had been hiding it from people, keeping it to myself, ignoring the fact that it even existed. But now that it was out there, now that Emily knew about it, I had people to be accountable to. And that was…off-putting. I could feel the pressure pushing down on my shoulders, so hard that it ached. Because there was no way to ignore this, and I honestly had no idea what I was meant to do.

  As I began to drive, I thought back to when I made a decision about going to college, or not, in my case. And, well, how it hadn’t felt like a decision at all, because there was only one answer to that question for me. It was easy, obvious. But what were you meant to do when you had pros and cons on both sides of the equation? Why wasn’t there an answer that revealed itself to me? I felt like, by now, I should know either way, but I still had one foot in the Crows and one foot in the Soars.

  I arrived back at my apartment and headed up to my bedroom, going slow so I didn’t wake anyone up. It was late by the time I crawled into bed, too late, but I didn’t care. I knew I wouldn�
��t be sleeping tonight anyway.

  Chapter Eleven

  It had been a full week since that night at my apartment, and Sam had barely made eye contact with me this entire time. I sat in the stands, holding my Dictaphone, and sighed as I watched the team run drills. I just didn’t understand what I’d done.

  I’d managed to get the rest of the team in for interviews, and all of them had given me a little something to work off of. Jeremy had a wife and kid he kept hidden from everyone else because he didn’t want them to see him as uncool or out of touch, but he was happy for me to write about them, because he wanted the world to know about them. When I asked if he knew the story would be available to the team as well, he shrugged.

  “Like they’ll read it,” he replied with a small grin, and then glanced around the room. “Is it okay if I go now?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, and watched him walk out the door. His words were ringing in my ears Would none of the team be interested in this at all? Surely, this would be a break for them, a chance for them to get their message out to the world, a chance for them to share themselves with the rest of the hockey-playing community. But, if Jeremy was right, then that gave me a way in to Sam’s story. Because I was pretty sure most his panic came from the possibility that people might judge him for the choice he did or didn’t make, especially his teammates.

  I had been hounding him for another interview since we slept together last, but he had turned me down every time. Told me that he would let me know when he was free next. But I knew he was brushing me off, knew he was just getting rid of me the best way he knew how. Johnson frowned with dissatisfaction every time Sam turned me down, and mouthed an apology at me. I knew he was having trouble figuring out why he was being such a dick. I guessed that he didn’t know what I knew about the situation, and that if he did, he might be a bit less accommodating.

  I couldn’t get Sam out of my head, but the reasons why were all messed up in my head. I wanted to get the story, and I knew I didn’t have enough for it yet. And I felt for him on a personal level, because he was making a seriously hard decision that had no real easy answer. Plus, of course, I couldn’t deny that I was kind of falling for him.

  Yeah, it was high school, but I found myself attracted to him the more he avoided me. We’d only hooked up twice, but each incidence had been fucking incredible, and I was desperately trying to come up with ways to get him back into my bed. I knew that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but I found myself plotting ways that I could both get my hands on the story and on him a few more times before I left.

  Leaving. That was something I’d rather not think about if I had the choice. I had only been here about ten days, but I found myself growing comfortable in Kingstown. It was a strange little place, odd and tiny. Even now, after only a few days, I found myself getting cheerfully greeted in the coffee shop down the street from me and chatted to by the regulars. I was a novelty to them, and they were a novelty to me. It had been a long time since I’d lived anywhere but a city, and I had to admit I could get used to the camaraderie and community in a place like this. And not just because Sam was in it.

  As the training drew to a close, I got to my feet and hurried around to intercept the team before they could all vanish into their lockers.

  “Sam!” I called after him, pushing my way through the other players. Even in the armor and under the helmet, I recognized him. He stopped dead in his tracks, and raised his head to make eye contact with Johnson. Johnson was leaned up on the edge of the lockers, and he nodded, raising his eyebrows. It was obvious that he was silently communicating how much he wanted Sam to talk to me. Johnson, being the coach, was certainly the most conscious about how his team came across, and the last thing he wanted was for his star player to come across like a giant asshole. Sam’s shoulders sagged, and he turned and pulled off his helmet, making his way towards me.

  “What is it?” he asked with a sigh. He didn’t make eye contact with me, and I could tell he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “I want to get a proper interview done,” I replied brusquely. “We haven’t had a proper sit-down conversation since I got here, and I needed your story to slot into the rest of them.”

  “Is that it?” he asked suspiciously, raising his head and eyeing me.

  “Yep,” I confirmed. “So, when’s good for you?”

  “Now,” he shrugged. “Let’s get it out of the way.”

  “You can use my office,” Johnson commented. I hadn’t realized how close he’d been hovering to our conversation, and jumped as he spoke.

  “Uh, thanks,” I nodded with a small smile. “Shall we?”

  We headed down the corridor, opened the door, and took our seats opposite each other. I noted that Sam took the seat at the player side of the table, out of habit. I smiled to myself as I took Johnson’s seat, wondering how much of a sacrilegious moment this would be for many of the players. I set up the Dictaphone, and pressed record.

  “So,” I began, and Sam looked up at me. He had been staring at the floor since we came in, legs parted, elbows balanced on his knees.

  “How did you become a part of the Crows?”

  For the next ten minutes, we ran through Sam’s history with the team: how he ended up there, how he felt when they started winning, how his newfound local fame had affected him. His answers started out pretty mechanical, but he began to loosen up as he spoke about things that obviously made him happy. By the time we finished up the first part of the interview, he had grown quite animated, waving his hands around as he pontificated on how it had felt when they first moved up the leagues. I couldn’t help but smile as I checked my notebook, figuring out what to ask him next, you could feel his passion, feel his drive. I knew he’d do so well at a bigger team with this kind of attitude, but it wasn’t like I could just come out and blurt it all to him. That was the reason he’d stormed out last time, because he’d been avoiding my questions, and was pissed that I pushed him for an answer.

  I hesitated before I asked the next question. It was a leading one, but I hoped that he would give me the answer I wanted.

  “Do you have any plans to move to a bigger team?” I asked carefully, playing stupid, pretending that I hadn’t got a scrap of knowledge about his offer. He stared at me, the only sound in the room the air conditioning humming away.

  “I don’t know,” Sam responded, picking his words slowly.

  “What if an opportunity came about that offered you that chance?” I continued. He wrinkled his brow at me. I knew he thought I was being crazy, but this was the only way I could think of to get through to him. Give him the chance to deliver me the information himself as opposed to having me overhear it and take it from him. He was so defensive about everything to do with the Soars’ offer, so I figured taking it nice and slow was probably my best bet.

  “What are you talking about?” He demanded. It was clear I’d thrown him.

  “What if an opportunity came about that offered you that chance?” I repeated myself. Instead of a look of realization passing across his face, he shut down. I could see something behind his eyes board up and shut down and desperately want me gone.

  “Well, that’s not relevant,” he growled. “That’s a decision I’d make without the help of anyone else.”

  “Wouldn’t you want your family to know?” I pressed, knowing I was already pushing my luck. “Or your teammates? To help you with the decision?”

  “I wouldn’t need any help,” He snapped. “Because that decision would only be mine.”

  “Wouldn’t you want their help? The accountability that might give you?” I urged, fully understanding that I was dancing over the line so far that I probably wouldn’t be able to go back, but I couldn’t stop.

  “Nope,” he replied firmly, getting his voice under control. “Why, would you?”

  It took me off-guard; I hadn’t had one of my questions turned back on me in a long time, and I felt as though the ground had lurched sideways beneath me. I paused for a momen
t. Okay, maybe this would be my chance to get through to him, to let him know that I knew what he was going through because I’d been through it too.

  “I did,” I nodded, my voice cool. He raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “When I got the offer to come out here, I had to decide whether I wanted to leave the life I’d built back home behind and do this or stay there,” I began.

  “But you’re not out here for long, are you?” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

  “A few months, maximum,” I agreed. “But…my partner. He said he’d leave me if I came out here, said it was clear that we weren’t in the same place if I wanted to leave.”

  I found myself slightly choked up, and took a deep, heaving breath as I tried to center myself again. I had to get this out. I was getting through to him, I could see it in his eyes, and it was the only way I would find a way to parallel my situation with his own. He felt alone? I could offer him an ally.

  “And you went anyway?” he asked, his voice quieter now, less defensive. I could sense that his hackles were still up, making sure that I wasn’t taking him for a ride, but he must have been able to see in my face that I wasn’t bullshitting. I still felt an ache in my heart when I thought of everything that I left behind when I came out here, though the sting was beginning to recede with every time I thought of them.

  “I did,” I nodded. “I knew it would be an amazing opportunity for me, and I wasn’t about to turn it down, you know?”

  He paused for a moment, leaning back from the table and stared at his hands for a couple of seconds. I wondered why he always did that. Whenever he was thinking, or uncomfortable, or feeling attacked, he would look at his hands. Maybe because they were his tools? I would have to find some way to work that into the article. Well, that’s what I kept telling myself. I found myself noticing these little things about Sam, and promising myself that I would investigate them for the sake of the article, but knowing that more than a little bit of it had to do with the fact that I was crushing on him, hard.