Chapter Eleven Violet #2
They break apart immediately after, and I feel a tightness in my chest.
Is she being bossy? No, it couldn’t be. It almost looks like trust?
Rissa streaks past the section I’m in, nearly slamming into the glass as she fights for the puck. She looks different from the girl I battled with at air hockey, laughing and relentless with a plastic pusher in her hand.
Rissa steals the puck and sends it across the ice, straight to Skye. She catches it mid-glide, cuts around a player from the other team, and speeds up. My breath catches in my throat.
The world seems to slow as Skye fakes left and slips right, movements smooth over the ice.
“Go, go, go,” I whisper, without realizing it.
She shoots. The puck snaps into the top right corner of the net before the other team’s goalie can react.
The horns blare, and the arena explodes with sound. My heart is hammering in my chest as I jump up again, completely unaware that I’m screaming.
Skye doesn’t celebrate wildly. She fist bumps the teammates who are standing close. The rest of her line skates over and jumps on her, hitting her helmet, which looks painful to me, but I guess they wouldn’t do it if it hurt her.
Again and again, the team looks to Skye. She says something short and intense; even through the visor on her helmet, I can see the fire in her eyes.
The game grinds on into the third period. I only know what it’s called because of the two girls to my right, who’ve been providing a running commentary sharper than any sports announcer ever could. Honestly, they deserve a medal. Or at least the rest of my coffee.
I don’t need it since I’ve had to pee since the end of the second period. Leaving my seat isn’t an option, though. I don’t want to chance missing something or not making it back in time for the end of the game.
We keep the other team from scoring any goals until the beginning of the third period, and now it’s tied at one-one. Moments later, we score again, and the whole arena erupts into a frenzy of madness. USA is back in the lead by one.
I totally understand why people say hockey is their favorite sport. It’s so fast and chaotic. Your brain doesn’t have time to think about anything except for where the puck is, who has it, and which team has the power play.
Yeah. I know things like power play now. I’m basically a hockey expert.
The game's becoming more brutal as the timer ticks down. Bodies are hit harder, and the energy turns desperate. I cringe every time Skye is shoved into the side of the rink, and I feel my stomach twist.
At one point, Skye goes down, and my entire body goes cold. I’m halfway out of my seat, fingers gripping the worry stone in my pocket.
Skye gets up almost immediately, skating it off like it was nothing, and I exhale violently.
“I hate this sport,” I mutter as I sit back down and try to ignore the glare I’m getting from my seat neighbors for my comment. They’ll be fine.
The final minutes are utter chaos, and the other team is pressing hard, firing shot after shot.
There’s a furious scramble in front of our net as Paige knocks the puck away with her huge pad.
A second later, she flings herself sideways, her body hitting the ice with a heavy thump as she lands right on top of the puck.
The clock shows giant red numbers that continue to count down, and I finally understand what it means to hold the line.
Five.
Four.
Three.
I stand again, not realizing I’m clutching the sleeve of the girl next to me.
Two.
One.
The buzzer sounds, and this time, the explosion of noise feels different. It’s not hopeful, it’s victorious.
USA wins. I’m still gripping the sleeve of the girl beside me, completely forgetting she’s Team Canada.
“Sorry.” I dip my head in apology.
Players pour off the bench as helmets and sticks start flying. Paige skates out of the net to join the pile near center ice, and Rissa tackles someone in a hug.
Skye is in the middle of it all. Not just part of it, but the center of it. Once the team stops jumping on her, I notice her glance up at the stands and start scanning. For a second, just for a second, her eyes find me. And even across the noise, the glass, the ice, I can feel it.
She found me. And I can’t stop cheering louder than anyone around me.
My heart hasn’t fully come down from the final buzzer and is still somewhere up near my throat, tangled with the chant of Skye’s name.
I’m walking toward the exit to get back to my hotel when I feel someone grab my arm, and I panic. I swing, making contact with something solid.
But when I look up, my panic dissolves completely, and I exhale.
It’s Skye. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, or maybe from being overheated since she just played one hell of a game in full gear.
She drags me down a small hallway that leads back to the seating in the arena and presses me up against the wall.
Her hand slides behind my neck, and I barely have time to inhale before Skye leans in and claims my mouth.
It’s not gentle in any way. She’s devouring me like her life depends on it.
My brain goes completely and gloriously blank.
I’ve kissed people before. Boys. Fumbling males who made me feel like I was a box being checked off.
This feels nothing like that.
My body reacts before my thoughts do, and I lean into her, just enough to meet her in the middle. Her lips are warm despite the cold air and loaded with confidence.
I feel the exact moment my heart flips over itself. It lasts maybe three seconds, maybe a lifetime, and then it’s over before I know it.
Skye pulls back just enough for our foreheads to nearly touch. Her eyes are darker up close, still lit with adrenaline.
She doesn’t say a word, but she’s looking at me. Steady, searching my face like there’s a question wrapped inside her mind.
And then…
“SKYE!”
Her team approaches, and they grab her shoulders from behind. Someone else, a few feet away, is shouting about team photos, and others are yelling “SEMIFINALS”.
Skye’s hand falls from behind my neck, her fingertips lingering for a few moments before she takes a step back, dropping a folded piece of paper into my hands. She doesn’t look embarrassed or unsure as she gives me a small smile before she’s swallowed by the noise of celebration.
I’m left standing here, frozen. My lips are tingling, and I lift my fingers to touch them without thinking. Like I need proof it actually happened.
My first kiss with Skye.
I replay it in my head.
I didn’t pull away. I didn’t hesitate.
I’d wanted it.
It wasn’t an experiment; it was right.
Whatever this is between us has changed.
And there is no going back.