by Sara Hubbard
I debate this all night while watching a romcom on Netflix. I maybe get three hours sleep total, and in class the next day I’m falling asleep in my seat. I’m in the middle of a dream about floating in a boat on an ocean when I feel something poke me in my side. I just about jump out of my seat, earning me a few stares from the people around me. Mr. Black—my history professor—raises his eyebrows at me but continues without calling me out.
Quietly, I sit back down.
Laura covers her mouth with her hand, and her shoulders jump with laughter.
“Did you do that?” I ask her.
“I’m so sorry. He was looking at you, and I wanted to wake you up. You nearly jumped on top of your seat.”
I’m annoyed for a total of five seconds before I shrug it off with a chuckle.
“Were you at Pilgrim’s last night?” she asks.
“No, I was binge-watching Netflix.”
“Been there, done that.”
I yawn and pick up my pencil, attempting to focus on Mr. Black, but he’s talking about the Salem Witch Trials and, while I find it interesting, he’s not telling me anything I haven’t already read in books.
“Are you going to the game tonight?” Laura asks.
“Oh, I didn’t realize there was one.” I never talked to Michael yesterday after I left his place and I didn’t talk to him today yet either. Does that mean anything? I thought we were good. Catastrophe averted. We didn’t have sex. But maybe the kissing and grinding was enough for him to avoid me. It bothers me more than I care to admit.
“Yeah, against Summerside. You should come.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. We’ll be in the same section we’re always in.”
“Thanks.”
After class is over, I check my phone. Zero missed calls and no texts. Okay, now I definitely think he’s trying to avoid me. Though to be fair, I didn’t contact him either.
Feeling a little bummed, I make my way to the SUB for lunch. I have a meal plan at the cafeteria, but their coffee is for shit, and if I’m going to make it through this afternoon’s classes, I’m going to have to drink a keg of it.
The lineup is crazy—no surprises there—but Charlie is in line and pretty close to the front. She’s wearing her usual leggings and tunic but her hair is in a crown braid today with some wispy bits hanging down around her face.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I say as I come at her from behind.
She looks over her shoulder frowning until she notices it’s me. “Hey!”
“Buy me coffee,” I say pouting. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course. Get a table.”
It’s chilly today, but I’m dressed warm enough to sit outside and not turn into an icicle. Through the window, I spy my usual spot on the wall but it’s taken. The food court is busy, and there are only a few free tables. Multiple conversations happen around me as I walk to the farthest one, near the window facing the courtyard. It’s so loud in here. Now I remember why I stay away.
Charlie finds me a few minutes later. She holds the cups out in front of her with straight, unbent arms as if the coffees are on fire. She marches like she’s on a mission. I shake my head at her. Damn, I love her. Everything she does is endearing—but also slightly comical.
“For you,” she says, setting the cup down in front of me.
“You’re an angel,” I say. She brought me an extra-large, and by this coffee shop’s standards, it means I could fill my bladder two times over before it’s empty.
I take a long sip of the beautiful dark liquid that slides down my throat to sit in my belly. It might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Immediately, my body perks up.
“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” I say. “What’d I miss?”
“Oh. Nothing. I’ve been studying and writing a paper that never seems to end.”
“How’s Oz?”
“Good, but they practice five days a week, and then there’s games, the gym, and he referees…”
“Sorry, buddy.”
“We live together, but I feel like I see him less than when we didn’t.”
“It’ll get better. The season just started.”
“I hope so.” She takes out a striped tote from her backpack and unzips it to reveal a perfectly planned lunch. One sandwich, cucumber and mayo, on wheat bread without the crusts. One container of yoghurt. Celery and carrot sticks, all cut to the same exact dimensions. She bites into her sandwich, corner first. Always corner first. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks with her mouth full.
“I’m not hungry. Besides, this is all the fuel I need.” She chews a bunch while I look out the window. I spy Brad in the courtyard with a couple of guys from his team. But he’s not chatting with them. He’s focused on the pretty blond batting her eyelashes at him. I cluck my tongue and look away.
Charlie glances over at him. “He’s so awful.”
“He sure is.”
“Has he called you since claiming he misses you?”
I make a face. “Not once. I knew it was bullshit.”
“I wonder how many girls he cheated with,” Charlie says.
“Probably enough to give himself a rip-roaring STD.”
She chuckles but then stops abruptly. “You got tested, right?”
“I did.” Soon after I found out about Valentine’s day. “Doctor left me a voice mail message the other day. All clean.”
“Thank, God.” She takes another bite of her sandwich, chews, and swallows. “Are you still hanging out with Michael?”
Instead of answering her, I pick at the plastic top on my cup.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know… I think…”
Charlie smiles. Why is she smiling when I’m trying to tell her I’m sad? Her eyes meander off my shoulder and to the right. I turn when I feel a tap on my shoulder, but someone slides into the seat on my left.
My sadness lifts immediately and my heart seems to float in my cheat as Michael drapes an arm around me. “Hey.”
“Hey, Michael,” Charlie says sweetly.
“My two favorite girls. Could a guy be any luckier?” He lowers his arm and props his elbows on the table.
“We were just talking about you.” Charlie takes the last bite of her sandwich.
He winks at me. “Yeah? All good, I hope.”
“Not at all,” I tease.
“I’m hurt.”
I roll my eyes playfully.
“Haven’t seen you around, Forever Friend. You avoiding me?”
Charlie, amused, mouths “forever friend.”
I shake my head at her. Then say to Michael, “I’ve been busy. Sorry.”
“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” He reaches over the table and steals one of Charlie’s carrots. “What’s Oz up to? I haven’t seen him around.”
“Because you don’t visit anymore,” Charlie says, feigning annoyance.
“Sorry about that. I’ll try to come by after exams.”
“I’m partly to blame for that,” I say. “I take up all his free time.”
Charlie watches us, her gaze drifting back and forth, and I’m happy she’s smiling instead of frowning. She’s getting used to us.
“You should see her skate now. She puts me to shame.”
I roll my eyes at his obvious lie.
“Maybe sometime over Christmas, we can go to the pond back home and skate,” Charlie says. “Ozzie took us last year, but maybe you could come visit.”
He holds my eyes for a moment and says nothing. He’s waiting for an invite, and I’m happy to give him one, but the devilish part of me wants him to sweat about it.
“If you want,” Charlie adds.
“Yeah? What about you?” He holds my gaze. “You want that?”
I nod solemnly.
Charlie beams and shoves a carrot in her face to hide it. “You guys are cute.”
“It’s just her. She makes me look good.”
I let
out a groan, but he gets brownie points for being charming.
I take a long drink of my coffee. The temperature has dropped, and it’s perfect now. A little warmer than tepid.
Michael checks his watch and grimaces. “I got to take off. Meeting some buddies at the gym. Interested in coming?”
“To the gym? Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Charlie says.
“Hot, sweaty men not your thing?”
I elbow his ribs, and he acts like I’ve bruised him. Not likely.
“All right, I’ll see you later.” He pushes out from the table. “Charlie,” he says with a nod, and she smiles at him with full teeth and her cheeks so full that her eyes almost disappear.
“Em,” he says with a grin. He gets a couple of steps away before he comes back. “You coming to the game tonight?”
“If you’re lucky,” I say, serious. Only I’m not.
“If you’re lucky,” he parrots, shaking his head. “Get your ass to my game. Friends cheer friends on.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we’re friends then.”
He saunters away, his Levi’s hung low on his hips. His firm ass is waving at me like he’s saying good-bye. “Why is he so hot?” I whine.
“I was wrong,” Charlie says quietly.
“About?”
“About the two of you igniting one another. When he was around Chloe, he was never really happy. They were always fighting about something or other. If they weren’t, he was just so...serious. Not at all like the carefree guy he was whenever she’d leave the room. And she’d pick at him and do things to piss him off, so he was just…irritated and angry most of the time. I like him a lot, but I figured you guys have such strong personalities, it would be the same with you—maybe worse. But now I see you guys…and the way you are around each other…I like it.”
“It’s so easy with him. Like breathing.”
“It’s the same for me and Ozzie.”
“I’m so scared to ruin things. It’s sooo good right now. He makes me feel safe and just happy. What if we have sex and ruin it?”
“What if you have sex, and it’s what you’ve always been looking for? You want the fairy tale. You always have. Maybe he can give it to you.”
“He can’t be over her,” I say, feeling deflated.
“She was awful. Maybe he’s glad it’s over.”
“He did say he knew they weren’t forever.”
“Then maybe give him some credit and believe him.”
I heave a sigh and slump in my seat. “There’s more to it than that. He’s got issues. I’m not sure he’ll ever want me the way I want him.”
She all but growls at me. “Who doesn’t have issues? Look at it this way. Not trying will get you exactly what you’re worried about—losing him. At least if you try you have a chance—more than a chance. Because, as into you as he seems to be, eventually he’ll be with someone who does want him. And then you’ll lose him anyway.”
She’s right. Do nothing and lose him. Or do something and maybe have something I’ve always wanted. That’s what it comes down to, and now that I know him and adore him, I have to admit that Michael is worth fighting for.
Chapter 17
I ask Charlie to go to Michael’s game with me, but she’s stressed over a paper so she decides to take a rain check. That’s okay. I meet up with Laura and her friend Annie instead.
The rink is loud from the second I approach the double doors. Music booms in my ears and chilly air hits me hard when I get inside. Thunderstruck is rocking, and the crowd is singing along. The game started a few minutes ago, and I didn’t mean to be late. All the showers in the dorm were being used, and I hadn’t washed since yesterday, so I decided to wait it out. Seems everyone and their dog is here tonight. I worry there won’t be any seats for me to sit with Laura. She likely assumed I’m a no-show.
As I walk down the crowded aisle to where Laura sits, the puck is in play and our school’s team is racing hard toward their net. I like hockey, but I’m not a die-hard fan, so keeping my eyes on the ice isn’t my main goal for being here. I’m here because Michael wants me to be. My cheeks burn at the thought.
When I reach Laura’s row, I wave to get her attention. It looks like there’s a seat beside her, but it might be saved for someone else. She’s absorbed in the game, shouting at the ref. I wave wildly until I finally catch her eye. She waves back and then points to the empty seat.
It is for me after all. “Excuse me,” I say, over and over, as people have to stand to let me get by. She’s almost halfway down the aisle. I bump someone’s popcorn, and a third of it goes all over the lap of the guy holding it. I apologize profusely, but he tells me not to worry about it. I still feel bad, though.
“Hey, girl!” Laura says when I reach her. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“Michael asked me,” I say, not intending for my voice to sound so happy about it.
“Ooohhhh,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“You’re so lucky,” Annie says, practically yelling over the sounds from the crowd.
I grin at her, and we all take our seats.
The first period is uneventful. No goals, no fights, no drama. When they leave the ice after the period is over, the crowd disperses for the canteen and coffee shop. Laura, Annie, and I stay.
“Rich’s not playing so well tonight,” Laura says. “I think he’s coming down with something.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I say.
“Yeah. He had a fever, but the coach told him he’s a pussy so here we are.”
“I hate that guy,” I say.
She grumbles under her breath. “You and me both.”
“What are you doing after the game?” Annie asks. “Any chance you want to come to a party with me? Laura wants to go home with Rich.”
“Uh…” A party? I consider it. “Whose?”
“Johnnie Carpenter. Everyone assumes the Muskrats will win tonight but they’re celebrating regardless.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
In truth, I’m not so sure. Brad’s a social butterfly, and he loves going to parties. I enjoyed it when we were together, but not as much as him. I’m sure he’ll be there tonight. Running into him wouldn’t be ideal. In fact, if I go, I’ll likely drink and that’s even less ideal. Especially considering drinking is against the rules of my probation.
“I don’t know.”
“Please,” she begs with a pouty face. “Don’t make go alone.”
“I better not. With the whole…probation thing.”
“Oh! Gosh, I never even thought. I’m so sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to drink, though.”
I give in to peer pressure a lot. I have a weak arm that can’t resist being twisted. I suppose that goes fantastically well with impulsivity. “Let me think about it,” I say, because it’s easier than saying no outright.
The second period picks up. Rich takes a few shots at the net, and he almost makes it every time, but none of them go in. Coach Handler is losing his mind. He bends over the boards at the player’s bench, screaming at Rich as he skates by. Rich looks winded, not quite skating as fast as several of the other players.
“Let him alone,” Laura says with a scowl on her face. She says it quietly while staring at him, as if she can mentally slam it into his mind.
I’m watching Rich when a fight breaks out. “What did I miss?”
Michael and number ten from Summerside, Dorsie, are facing each other, chest to chest, screaming into each other’s faces. Dorsie pushes Michael, sending him back a couple feet. He wobbles on his skates and then drops his gloves. Oh, here we go. Normally, I’d be into it, but now I know Michael and care about him. I’d rather climb over the Plexiglas and take a punch for him than let him take a single one. It’s as if each hit he takes, I feel them, too, in the pit of my stomach.
Dorsie drops his gloves and unclips his helmet, tossing it on the ice. Michael practically dives on top of him, pounding the guy over and over in the fa
ce with a fist so strong and swift it might as well be a hammer.
My mouth drops, and I cover it with my hands. It’s so hard to see him like this. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. The worry. And it’s still hard to connect Michael on the ice with Michael my forever friend.
Some guys on the Muskrats pull him off of Dorsie. Dorsie pounds his closed fist into the ice and spits blood from his mangled face onto the ice. Then he flashes Michael the finger. Oh, no. It could have been over. Why couldn’t they guy just let it go?
Dorsie surges forward, pummeling Michael, and the guys holding him let him go and back away. Smart move. The referees are blowing whistles and yelling at them but not before the guy sucker punches Michael and Michael goes down on the ice face first.
I gasp and spring to my feet, caught in the jeering crowd all standing and pumping their fists to support Michael. I want to run to him, but I can’t move because of the crowd.
The whistles sound like birds in cages, over and over, chirping. Michael is already on his skates, glaring at Dorsie like the guy murdered his family. Both Michael and Dorsie get thrown in the penalty boxes where they dead-eye each other.
“Holy shit,” I say. I feel sick. Watching him get hit like that. Watching him lose his mind on Dorsie. I’m struck with stomach-wrenching pain and a dryness in my throat that won’t go away no matter how many times I try to swallow.
“You okay?” Laura asks.
“Yeah, I just…”
“Sucks when they get hit, huh?”
I nod.
“Told you they’re together,” Annie says with a wink.
But we’re not. Not yet. Though the words never leave my mouth.
The game goes into overtime with the Muskrats scoring the winning goal. As soon as it slides into the net, we all jump and cheer. Laura and I stay seated while the crowd swarms the aisles to leave. She’s waiting for Rich, and I use that as an excuse to wait for Michael. He’s okay. He finished the game after his penalty, but I need to see him up close and talk to him. Just to make sure. And to tell him he’s an idiot.
“So…” Annie says, “about that party?”
I sigh.
“Pretty please.”