Chapter 13
York
“That’s right. Give it more,” Coach’s voice booms across the ice, echoing in the cold rink. I push harder, my legs burning as I skate down the ice, focusing on the puck in front of me. Early morning drills, the same routine since six a.m. But today, it’s like my body’s working against me, weighed down by the lack of sleep. I didn’t get a decent night’s rest. My head’s been a mess ever since that moment in the kitchen with Noelle.
I try to shake it off, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of the drills, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in, slowing me down in ways that frustrate me. It’s like skating through mud.
“You okay, York?” Coach shouts again from the bench, his sharp eyes tracking my every move. He’s noticed, of course. He always notices.
I skate toward him, slowing to a stop just in front of the boards, the cold air biting at my face. My breath comes out in heavy puffs as I lean on my stick. “Rough night, that’s all,” I say, trying to brush it off like it’s nothing.
Coach raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “You’re playing like your head’s somewhere else.” He taps his clipboard against the boards. “Whatever’s eating at you, sort it out. You’ve got a game in less than a week.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but it’s easier said than done. My mind flashes back to Noelle, the way she looked at me last night, the tension hanging between us like a heavy cloud. I’ve known her forever, but lately, things have felt different. I don’t know how to explain it. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to explain it.
The puck skitters across the ice, and I chase after it, trying to focus on the drill. I go through the motions, but my heart’s not in it. My mind’s too tangled up in everything outside the rink—this whole fake dating thing with Noelle, the way she looked in the kitchen last night in that tiny tank top, the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I should have been sleeping.
Coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of the drill, and I skate back toward the center. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, and my muscles scream for a break, but I force myself to keep going. I need this practice, need to get my head straight before I get out there on the ice for real. Hockey has always been my escape, the one place where everything else fades away. But today, even the rink feels off.
“You’re off your game, Steele,” Coach says as I glide back toward the bench. “Take five and get your head in the right place. We’ve got too much riding on this season for you to lose focus now.”
I nod again, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my glove. I skate to the bench and take a seat, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My stick taps against the ice as I stare down at it, wondering why I can’t shake this feeling. Usually, I’m laser-focused, but today... it’s like the ice beneath my feet isn’t solid.
Noelle. She’s always been there, in the background of my life, but now, she’s right in the center of it, and I don’t know how to handle it. We’re pretending, sure, but it doesn’t feel fake anymore. Not when she’s looking at me like she did last night, or when I’m fighting the urge to pull her into my arms every time she’s near.
I shove those thoughts down as deep as I can. Coach is right. I need to get my head in the game. But as I take a deep breath and lace up my skates a little tighter, I know it’s not going to be easy.
Because the thing I’m trying to escape? It’s not just some passing thought or distraction.
It’s Noelle.
After another grueling thirty minutes of Coach pushing me to my limits, we finally call it quits. I’m grateful for the extra attention over the holiday break, but it doesn’t ease the weight of disappointment I feel for letting him down today. My mind has been everywhere but on the ice, and I know I need to get my head on straight.
As we leave the rink, we head back to Coach’s house. I can feel the adrenaline from practice still coursing through my veins, but it’s overshadowed by the nagging thoughts of Noelle. The kitchen encounter from last night plays on repeat in my mind, mixing with my guilt about today’s lackluster performance.
Once inside, I head straight to my room, shedding my gear and stepping into the warm spray of the shower. The water washes away the chill and sweat, but it doesn’t clear my head. I stand under the hot water, letting it cascade over me, trying to focus on the here and now. After a few moments, I turn off the tap, dry off, and throw on a fresh pair of clothes.
When I finally emerge from my room, the mouthwatering scent of breakfast wafts through the air, hitting me like a freight train. I don’t realize just how hungry I am until I step into the kitchen and see the spread laid out on the table. Fluffy pancakes stacked high, crispy bacon sizzling, and a golden-brown casserole bubbling away in a dish.
“Wow,” I say, nodding appreciatively at Connie, who stands nearby with a proud smile on her face. “Thank you for the meal.”
Connie beams at me, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “You’re very welcome, York. I thought today you and Noelle could get some holiday shopping done?” Her voice is bright, and I can tell she’s genuinely excited about the idea.
I nod, pulling out a chair to take a seat at the table. “Sure. Uh, where is Noelle?” I scan the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing her again.
“Just finishing up in her room. She’ll be here in a minute,” Connie replies, pouring a fresh cup of coffee. The sound of the coffee pot gurgling adds to the homey atmosphere.
As I dig into the delicious spread before me, savoring the fluffy pancakes and crispy bacon, I spot movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn toward the hallway that leads to Noelle’s room, and there she is, stepping into the kitchen with a smile that instantly brightens the room.
My heart stutters, and I lose all motor function, my fork clattering to the ground as I take in the beauty before me. She’s wearing a soft, oversized sweater that hangs just right, accentuating her delicate frame while the sleeves fall lazily over her hands. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, tumbles over her shoulders, catching the morning light and framing her face like a halo.
The way her eyes light up, those deep, expressive blue orbs sparkling with warmth and curiosity, makes my breath hitch in my throat. I can’t help but admire the little details—the sprinkle of freckles across her nose, the gentle curve of her smile that feels like home.
Wow. She’s stunning, a vision that leaves me momentarily speechless. For a second, I forget about the food in front of me and the awkwardness of our situation. All that matters is her presence, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m incredibly lucky to be here, sharing this moment with her.
Wow.
I snap back to reality and lean over to pick up my fork, but before I can reach it, Noelle is there, kneeling gracefully to grab the fork for me. Her presence is intoxicating, and as she reaches for the fork, I can’t help but gaze into her eyes. They’re warm and inviting, drawing me in like a magnet, and my heart hammers wildly inside my chest.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice a little unsteady as I take the fork from her hands. A part of me wants to add, while you’re down there , but I know it would be highly inappropriate. Yet, now that the thought has entered my mind, I can’t shake it off.
I find myself wondering how it would feel to have Noelle’s lips wrapped around my—
Stop it!
I try to snap myself back to reality, but instead, I drop my fork once more. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, frustrated with myself.
Just then, Coach steps up behind me, his presence a reminder of the seriousness of my situation. “Something’s going on with you, York.”
This time, I lean over to grab the fork because Noelle is already on the other side of the kitchen, pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee. The way she lifts the mug to her lips, the light catching in her hair, makes it hard to concentrate.
“I’m all good, promise,” I say, holding my fork up triumphantly. “There, got it.” But as I set the fork down, Connie crosses the kitchen with a new fork in hand.
“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing it to me with a smile.
“Thank you,” I say, giving her a wink that makes her blush slightly, adding a lightness to the air around us.
Connie’s expression turns playful as she looks at her husband. “I thought the two of them could go holiday shopping together in the town square’s mall.” Her enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, the idea of spending time with Noelle outside of this kitchen feels exciting. And as my eyes meet Noelle’s from across the kitchen, I realize I would do anything to spend more time with her.
I like playing pretend with her, maybe a bit too much.