Chapter 2
TWO
The chill of the ice nips at my skin as I skate around the rink. I pull my headband snugly over my ears and come to a stop in front of my friend Josie.
“We’re going over to Olivia and Kate’s house to watch Dance Star, and then we’re going to hit up The Hideout for dinner. I bet the hockey team is there celebrating their big win. Are you coming?”
The rest of the team has finished practicing and exits the ice, and she steps off behind them. When she realizes I haven’t followed, she glances back for an answer.
“No. I think I’ll stay for a little while longer.”
An amused smile pulls up the corners of my friend’s mouth, and she frees her long, blue hair from the ponytail. “Does Coach know you’re staying?”
“I’m fine.” I check my heart rate on my watch. “I just want to work on the spin at the end of my short program.”
“A girl can’t live on skating alone.” She combs through her hair with her fingers.
“There’s half of a sandwich and some mini pretzels in my bag.”
“I was talking about boys and alcohol. In excess. Come on, we have three weeks to prepare for the Desert Cup, and your spin is already perfect.”
“See you in the morning,” I call over my shoulder as I push off and glide away.
By the time I make it around the oval-shaped rink, she’s left with the rest of the team. Finally, I’m all alone.
I leave out my earbuds and enjoy the sound of my skates moving along the ice. Closing my eyes briefly, I let all my senses absorb this moment. Even the echo throughout the arena as people go in and out of doors is a welcome sound.
College is a hard place to find any solitude. And ice time is difficult to come by. I’m soaking it up and really appreciating it when I realize I’m not completely alone.
Rhett Rauthruss, one of the Valley U hockey players, sits in the first row near the tunnel to the boy’s locker room.
Leaned back and slumped down in the seat, he’s dressed in a gray T-shirt and black athletic pants instead of the full pads and gear the hockey team usually wears.
One skate crossed over the other, eyes closed.
The rest of the team is nowhere in sight.
I skate around twice more before I stop in front of him.
His dark blond hair falls over one side of his face, and his chest lifts with deep, even breaths. I grab the hockey stick resting near his feet and poke him with it.
Nothing. Maybe he’s dead.
“Are you alive?” I ask.
The rise and fall of his chest continues in a slow and steady rhythm. Okay, not dead.
While I contemplate how to handle the situation, I take in his features. Full, pouty lips, big, straight nose, and an angular jaw.
I’ve never been this close to him. While I often cross paths with the hockey team since we practice in the same building and share the ice, I’ve never met this particular hockey player.
Some of his teammates, yes, but I don’t know much about Rhett, aside from his name and now how handsome he is when he’s sleeping.
“Hello?” I try again to get his attention. He’s the only thing standing in the way of an hour of ice time with no one watching.
His brows pull together just a fraction, but otherwise, he doesn’t move.
“Hey!” I shout and give him a harder poke with the stick still in my hands.
He startles. Piercing blue-gray eyes snap to mine, but he’s slow to sit up. His shoulders hitch, and his back arches as he looks around the empty rink. “You’re the second girl to wake me up today by screaming.”
When he stands, I hand him his stick and skate backward. “I didn’t scream. I raised my voice to get your attention.” To get you the hell out of my space. Rarely do I get the ice to myself, and he’s ruining it. Also, I resent the implication that somehow I’m at fault here. This is my time.
“Yeah, well, at least I wasn’t naked this time.” His lips fall into a thin line, and he looks embarrassed by his confession like maybe he didn’t mean to share that with a stranger. He comes onto the ice. He’s tall, and standing in front of me he seems much bigger than he did sitting down.
“I’m not done skating. I have the ice for another hour.”
“You woke me up to tell me I can’t skate?” He pulls one of the hockey nets into place and drops a few pucks onto the ice. “I checked the schedule. There was nothing after four.”
“Technically, that’s correct, but no one ever comes in late on Sunday afternoons.”
“Technically, that’s not correct. I did today.” He smiles like he knows he’s got me. He does, but I’m still not ready to give up the fight.
I want all the voices to hush—external and internal. And for that, I need peace and quiet.
“I need to go through my routine without any distractions. I have a show in three weeks.”
“And I have the most important game of my life in six days.”
I purse my lips. I should have let him sleep.
“I won’t say a word, and I’ll stick to this half. That good?” He fires a puck into the net without looking at me.
“Yeah, okay.” I give in. It isn’t the solitude I was looking forward to, but at least he won’t be paying me any attention. He seems even less interested in chatting with me than I am him. “Whatever.”
He faces me, and those stormy eyes bore into me. I think he might cave or at least offer an apology. Instead, he nods once, drops his gaze back to the ice, and starts skating around and shooting more pucks into the net.
I find my earbuds and turn up the volume to drown out the sound of him, but it’s incredibly hard to forget he’s here. He got me all riled up when all I was looking for was calm.
And why is Rhett Rauthruss hanging out at the rink by himself on a Sunday afternoon anyway? Not just any Sunday afternoon. They won the quarterfinals just last night. He should be out celebrating with all his teammates, just like Josie assumed.
I’ve seen Rhett before. The same as I’ve seen most of the guys on the team around campus and the rink.
Even if we weren’t sharing a practice facility, I’d probably be able to identify them. They’re well known and liked on campus. Since the hiring of Coach Meyers four years ago, he’s slowly built a team of insanely talented players. Several of them have already been drafted by NHL teams.
We often practice directly after the boy’s hockey team, but they’re usually in full practice gear, complete with helmet, and a lot harder to check out. And it turns out, Rhett is nice to check out. Not my type, like at all, but still undeniably hot.
The hockey guys are known on campus for two things—being fun to look at and hooking up nonstop. I guess three if you count the talent but honestly that gets a lot less chatter than the other two items.
I’ve never seen the appeal that other girls do. It isn’t that I’m opposed to casual sex, but I like there to at least be the delusional hope of it being more. Hookups can lead to relationships if the situation is right. Right?
It never has for me, but I’m holding steady in my belief that it’s possible, and I just haven’t hooked up with the right person. I know one thing for sure—Rhett and his teammates are not the kind of guys you hook up with hoping for more. That would be dumb even for a semi-believer such as myself.
I practice my spin for a while and then go through my short program twice.
I’m taking a break and watching Rhett (while trying to play it off like I’m not watching Rhett) when two more hockey players join him.
They must be freshmen or transfers because I can’t place their names.
One has surfer blond hair styled so neatly I never would have pegged him for a hockey player, and the other is his polar opposite with dark hair sticking out around a backward hat.
Where Rhett was quiet and attempted to be courteous, these new additions are loud. Even with my music turned up, I can’t block out the noise.
Josie should have stuck around. It looks like the hockey team is celebrating here today. She’ll be mad she missed this. Me? Not so much.
I turn on my favorite song and step back onto the ice.
Rhett glances over with what might be an apologetic look.
I can’t decipher it through my frustration.
The other two turn and blatantly stare. They speak to one another, but I can’t make out their exact words thanks to the song blasting in my ears.
As I skate, I do my best to push them out of my thoughts and focus.
In three weeks, I have my final collegiate competition. The last chance to skate, really. Sure, I could seek out local shows after graduation, but I know that once I get a real job this summer, the likelihood that I’ll have the time to dedicate to practicing, as I do now, is slim.
So, Rhett and his hockey buddies cannot distract me. I won't allow it.
I finally find my flow again after a couple of angry girl songs put me in the right headspace. There are few things that Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift can’t make better. I put on my program music to go through my routine once more. My legs are tired, and I'm beyond hungry, but I have to push through.
One of the guys yells loudly—really loudly.
It’s incessant, and he shouts the same thing over and over until I cannot ignore him.
Gritting my teeth, I stop so I can yell back when a hard body collides with mine.
I bounce backward like I hit the wall and sprawl out on the ice.
My left side takes the brunt of it, and while I think I’m okay, it freaking hurts.
When I open my eyes, Rhett is standing over me. His blue eyes are wide as he stares down at me. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear him.
I sit up and take out my earbuds. “What the hell?”
“I’m so sorry,” Rhett apologizes. His mouth moves in the same way it had moments ago.
“She okay?” One of the other guys asks. He and his buddy stand back a little way, watching but keeping their distance.
“She’s fine.” I stand and wobble. My heart races. Although, that may have more to do with my anger and the adrenaline still coursing through me.
Rhett takes my elbow to steady me. “Maybe you should sit for a minute.”
I rip my arm away. “I told you I’m fine.”
Except, I’m still wobbly and I almost eat it. Wordlessly, Rhett takes me by the arm and helps me off the ice.
“I think Jeff is here.” The guy with neatly styled blond hair says. He comes to my other side, and the two of them all but carry me off the ice with tight grips on either elbow.
“Can you go let him know we’re coming back?” Rhett asks him. He takes over, walking in front of me with his hands at my waist. His large palms span my ribs, and the heat of him seeps through the thin material of my tank. He guides me onto the bench just off the ice.
“Jordan, go with Liam. If Jeff isn’t here, call the front desk and see who’s around. We’ll be right there.”
“I said I was fine,” I insist, although ouch, my hip throbs where I landed.
He crouches down in front of me and hands me my blade guards. “You hit pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I know. I was there.” The edge to my voice is lost in his concerned gaze and the pain shooting down my left side. Damn, that hurt.
“I’m so sorry.”
I wince as I put on the guards and stretch out my legs in front of me. “So much for staying on your side.”
“Do you feel like you can walk, or do you want me to carry you?”
“You can’t be serious.” A small, manic laugh slips from my lips. “You're not carrying me.”
He nods once and stands tall. Ignoring the pain, I get up and walk ahead of him toward the trainer’s office. Every step makes my hip ache.
Jordan and Liam are waiting for us, standing next to one of the trainers I don’t know, but I recognize the blue polo shirt they all wear.
“Hey, I’m Jeff. Heard you took a spill on the ice.”
A spill? I glance at Rhett, who looks down at his skates as he speaks, “I skated into her.”
Jeff's brows raise. “That had to have hurt. There are guys on the team that couldn’t collide with Rauthruss and walk back here on their own.” He motions with his head for me to come back. “Hop up here and let me take a look.”
Rhett and the guys linger as I awkwardly sit on the trainer’s table.
“You three can go,” Jeff says.
Jordan and Liam don’t need any more encouragement, but Rhett is slower to leave.
“I'm going to wait just outside,” Rhett says. I’m not sure if it’s meant for my benefit or Jeff’s.
I hope it’s not mine. I want him here even less now than I did an hour ago. And that’s saying something.
“Anything hurt?” the trainer asks once they're gone.
“My hip, mostly. Also, the left side of my face, but I’m okay, really. I’ve been hurt worse.”
“Then there is no harm in taking a look. Lie back and roll onto your right side.”
I do as he says, and he feels around, tenderly pressing on my hip and then raising and lifting my leg, asking if it hurts as he moves me at different angles.
“Well...” he says finally. “I think you’re going to live, but I’m going to grab some ice packs and have you sit back here for fifteen or so.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is necessary. You took a nasty hit. Ice it and hang around for a bit.”
When he walks off, I lie back and press my fingertips to the tender skin under my eye. I can hear the guys out in the hallway. The door is open, and they aren’t even attempting to whisper.
One of them says, “How many more girls are you going to make cry today?”
“She didn’t cry,” Rhett snaps back.
I try to follow their conversation as they continue to poke fun at Rhett. I don’t have enough backstory to make complete sense of it, but I can understand enough to determine that Rhett is exactly the type of guy I pegged him for—a complete player. Not to mention an inconsiderate brute.
Pity. He really is nice to look at.