1
Kat
Seven years later
The slamming of the arena doors behind me echoes around the quiet ice rink, making me jump like a skittish rabbit. I glance around warily before heading over to the rows of benches. The banner of the Boston University hockey team hangs like a beacon by the set of doors that leads onto the smooth ice. I’m really not supposed to be here. If anyone catches me skating on the university rink, I’ll be in deep trouble. It’s worth it though. I go to sit down on the bleachers, where hundreds of fans sit each home game, cheering for our university hockey jocks. My movements are fast as I tug off my winter boots, shaking the excess snow off before setting them next to my bookbag. The pain in my chest always goes away when I’m on the smooth, cold ice. Taking out my favorite long, fuzzy socks, I slip them over the black yoga pants that cling to my legs like a second coat of skin. At least my toes will stay warm. I hate having cold feet, even if I’m used to the feeling. I’m not even going to bother changing before skating, since I’m heading home after to change into something warmer before classes start at eight AM. I notice my reflection on the glass surrounding the rink, and a girl with pink hair and sad eyes glances back. Her skating outfit is plain and simple, no sparkles and glitter for this girl. I’d rather blend in than stand out any day. The long-sleeved maroon shirt and yoga pants help my movements become more flexible, plus I won’t sweat too much in the lightweight clothes after skating my butt off on the ice. Placing my hands on my knees, I close my eyes and take a few seconds to gather myself into a calm state. Outside those arena doors is a different Kat, one who has to deal with the harsh life that’s thrown at her constantly. But in here, I’m someone else. I practice the deep breathing so my fucked up life doesn’t take over while I’m skating. This is my time, no one else’s.
I’m free to be here, lost in my own little world.
My cheeks puff as I blow out a gush of air from my mouth in frustration. Images of last week creep to the surface, and I can hear his voice whisper through my head.
“You good for nothing piece of shit, Kathleen. Don’t you walk away from me!” he yells in a slurred voice as I slam the front door shut and take off at a jog so he can’t catch me as he chases me out of the house. He won’t scream outside, because God forbid the posh, rich neighbors see him untidy and drunk. Only a few more words reach my ears. “Kathleen…get your…ass…” The rest is drowned out as I hail a cab. My eyes squeeze tighter and I clench my fists as my fingernails dig in to the point of pain, grounding me.
He’s not here, he is not here!I tell myself, until it sticks and my breathing slows.
“Hey, Kat! You have about an hour before I have to clean the ice again. The boys start showing up for practice at six this morning. Enjoy,” Bob shouts from the other side of the bleachers, standing at the end with a sleepy smile.
The startled scream I let loose echoes around the empty rink. He showed up when I was lost in my memories and scared the crap out of me. My hands fly to my chest, my heart fluttering like crazy. I try to plaster on my fake smile to appear somewhat normal, but a snort leaves my mouth, it can’t be contained. What the heck is normal? My life is far from normal.
“Thanks, Bob. I won’t be too long. You’re the man!” My voice echoes as I shout back to him, responding in what I hope is a cheerful voice.
Bob has been taking care of the university ice rink for so long, his Zamboni is practically his baby. He may be getting up there in age, but he has the spirit of a kid. He’s a kind old man that lets me skate here when no one is around and pretends to look the other way. Maybe he can see the shadows in my eyes, but he’s kind enough to not pry, and it makes me wonder if that’s why he lets me into the arena. With a chuckle and hacking cough, he walks away into the shadows, heading back to his maintenance office.
I shove my feet into my freshly sharpened skates and tie them extra tight, to the point that they dig into my calves. The slight pain helps ground me, and I’m a little more focused with each breath. I slowly stand and walk my way over to the boards, pushing the door open. My feet don’t wobble on the cement ground. After years of figure skating, it’s as natural as walking in tennis shoes for me. I take a deep inhale, breathing in the frigid cold air, and exhale with a puff of icy smoke through my nostrils.
The lights are dim, the perfect lighting for how I skate. I’ve come to realize I don’t like the spotlight after Mom’s passing. For the last few years, I’ve been sticking to the shadows, trying to blend in as much as possible as I stay away from crowds of people. I don’t like anyone watching me skate across the ice, because it’s for me to get lost in the moment. Figure skating for an audience hasn’t meant as much to me since Mom passed away from cancer when I was fourteen. I stopped skating professionally and started skating more to connect with Mom, as it helps me escape my fucked up world. Every time I’m out on the ice alone, I still feel her presence. It’s another reason why I skate so early in the morning, because it’s empty and perfectly silent, except for Bob of course.
Grabbing the edges of the open door, I tuck my elbows in as I step onto the ice before pushing off to glide over the smooth surface. It sounds like I’m chipping away at the ice beneath my skates with each glide of my feet, and the freezing air frosts on my lips. Deciding on a warm-up, I move my feet left and right, picking up speed as I circle the rink. As my music starts playing over the speakers, a hint of a smile overtakes my face. Bob knows by now what type of tunes I like to skate to, so he recently started playing them over the speaker when I’d forget to.
When “Always Remember Us This Way” by Lady Gaga starts playing, I start gliding backward with my arms stretched out wide on either side of me and my head tipped back. I close my eyes and let my muscle memory control my movements to the heart-breaking song. My body pulls me into a Biellmann stretch, my hands lifting my extended left leg to meet the back of my head, inches away. Returning my left back down with a spin, I cross my legs and move them forward and backward while speeding around the ice. This is when I feel like I’m flying with my blades hardly touching down on the ice and the rest of the world keeps moving forward as I stay here, frozen in this moment of utter peace. My body swoops low, and I sit back with my right leg extended, my butt inches from the ice as I keep moving at full skating speed. Popping back up, I move back into forward position, picking up my pace to achieve the axel jump. A few loops around the rink, and I prepare for the jump with my heart pounding in excitement. Around the next curve, my muscles start to go with the flow, muscle memory kicking in, and my body lifts off the ice with my legs crossed over each other as I spin midair before dropping back down with my right leg extended straight out behind me. Nearing the end of the song, I do small circles until I’m in the middle of the arena. To finish, I spin in place with my arms above my head and my head tipped back until everything is a blur. The music cuts off just as I’m done, and my breath fogs the air with each panting exhale.
With my head bowed, I take deep breaths and try my damndest to not cry. I wish I could be this free off the ice. Mom used to make life worth living with just her smile. My chest aches, and I place my hand over my heart as if the pain would disappear by rubbing the spot. I start skating over to the boards to exit the ice before the hockey players start showing up. With my head down, I don’t notice the massive shadow in the doorway until I’m halfway there, and I almost slip from being startled. No one is supposed to be here.
Six foot two with shoulders wider than the door opening, I have the most random thought of myself being draped over those broad shoulders. His feet are spread apart in a stance of male dominance, and his muscled arms are crossed over a barrel chest. It’s a stance for intimidation with a back off vibe that speaks for itself. I realize as I’m checking him out that he can see I’m doing just that, but he’s returning the favor, because I can feel his gaze burning onto my skin until I’m overheated even after skating. By the time I meet his stare, his eyes are furious and a menacing scowl sits on his rugged, handsome face. I tip my head to the side, trying to figure out if I should be screaming for help or slapping myself for ogling the arrogant ass. He’s blocking the door, and he doesn’t look too happy that I’m here. Well, two can play that game.
I spread my feet apart, mimicking him with my arms crossed over my chest. That draws his gaze down to my pushed-up boobs. I mean, they aren’t half bad if I do say so myself. He scowls even harder, like it’s my fault he was staring at my impressive assets. A five o'clock shadow covers his angry face, and his set jaw draws my gaze to his sinfully delicious bowed lips. My stomach goes crazy with flutters, and a shot of desire bursts through my core, causing a shiver up and down my spine. When his lips form into a half-smirk of pure cockiness, I glare at him. His sharp pale green eyes narrow at me as he runs a hand through black hair that’s slicked back to perfection and yet a tad messy, like he can’t seem to stop running his fingers through it. We continue our stare down until I feel like pulling my hair out, and finally, I break.
“Are you going to stand there all day or let me through?” I grit out, finding it hard to hold our stare down. I usually avoid these types of things, but he’s bringing out a side of me I never let out.
A single dark eyebrow raises at my angry tone and that cocky smirk is more pronounced, giving me a sudden urge to smack his handsome face. I step into his personal space, making my intent clear—if he doesn’t move, I will bulldoze him over. When he steps on the ice in his tennis shoes without falling, almost like he was made for the ice, I’m a bit impressed, but I won’t admit that. His tall frame towers over my five foot eight, blocking out the dim lighting. Green eyes pierce my blue gaze in the shadows, and the urge to flinch is strong because he’s standing too close. I keep my cool and lift my chin, glaring at him and showing I’m not backing down without a fight. He slowly starts his perusal from my feet to the top of my head, and I’m a bit offended when he looks displeased with my appearance. I may not be stunningly beautiful, but I at least know I’m pretty. I have my mom’s ice-blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a slim body that’s curvy in all the right places. I inherited my father’s dirty blonde hair, but I’ve covered that part of myself with pink hair dye. I don’t want to look anything like that monster, and my hair is the only resemblance I have with him, thank God.
Having had enough of the silence and this prick crowding my space, I try again.
“Well? Are you going to move out of my way or keep acting like you own this ice?” I mutter, clearly annoyed at this jerkface.
He flashes a cocky gleam of white teeth and points his thick, long index finger to the ceiling without looking up. I gaze up and blink slowly. Hanging from the rafter in the middle of the rink is a banner. He’s posed on the ice in our school jersey with full gear on and the stick striking to hit the puck. I can see his hypnotizing green eyes from here, just as intense and hypnotizing, and he looks way too serious. Under his picture, it has a number eight, his last name, and the team captain “C” in bold letters. I lower my gaze and try not to laugh. I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my twitching lips, my face burning from containing my laughter. His face contorts in a scowl of annoyance as he steps closer, and I try not to flinch and show my wariness of people standing too close. I grimace, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Suddenly, his expression completely blanks, and he doesn’t come any closer. I don’t like how he’s staring at me, as he seems to see inside my soul to the loss and pain there. He breaks his gaze from me, and I feel like I can breathe again. What an odd and very unusual reaction. I tend to stay away from men—well, if I’m being honest with myself, I stay away from everyone. His deep grumbling voice knocks me out of my thoughts.
“Are you going to get the fuck off my ice, Princess?”
Oh, hell no.Hisfucking ice? I think not! This place is the one escape I have to myself, and if he thinks he’s giving me the boot, he has another thing coming. I start to circle around him with my body facing him the whole time and my feet pointing out on either side of me, so I’m constantly moving around him at a lazy pace. He doesn’t budge, but watches me out of the corner of his eyes, tracking my every move.
“I don’t see your name anywhere saying you own the place. Did I miss it somewhere?” I pause for dramatic effect before continuing on. “Didn’t think so. How about you stop being a douche canoe, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Glad we can agree on that.” The sass and irritation is clear in my voice before I’m turning my back to him to get off the ice.
I may have gone a bit overboard in the sass department, but in my defense, he deserved it. I’m so sick of people telling me how to live my life. I step through the boards doorway and walk in steady movements back to the bleachers where my backpack is. His stare is drilling holes into the back of my head, and I just know he’s following me on surprisingly quiet feet for such a tall guy.
Huffing, I plant my butt on the edge of the bleachers, not bothering to look up as I pull my skates off and tug my winter boots back on in angry, rushed movements. Heaving a sigh, I stand back up with my things and turn to him with a questioning brow. He opens his mouth, just like I expected him to.
“Don’t come back here, Princess. I would hate to tell anyone how you’re sneaking into my turf and messing up my ice after it’s already been clean,” he grumps out, and it almost makes me laugh. He has a load of cockiness in his tone.
I guess it’s time to pull out the big guns. My smile is dazzling as I shout out loud enough for my friend to hear me, “Bob, I’m leaving! See you tomorrow! Same place, same time.”
We can hear Bob yelling from the maintenance room, “Have a good one, Kat! I’ll leave the doors open for you in the morning.”
I know without a doubt my smile is smug as hell, and he doesn’t seem to like that. His eyes narrow onto my mouth with pure hate burning in their depths. I lick my suddenly dry lips and wait for him to return his gaze back to my eyes.
“Look, let’s make a compromise. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Our skating schedules don’t even line up. You were obviously early today. Since that’s settled, I would say it’s been nice meeting you, Captain, but that would be a lie.” I salute him as I grab my coat, then throw it over my shoulders and practically run to the exit. I can hear him grumble in that deep husky voice just before the metal double doors slam shut.
“Jesus H. Christ.”
