Chapter 2
Iguess ‘clean up after yourself’ is a mere suggestion here because every single week since I’ve started training at the rink, these idiot players have not only left the gym we all share a complete mess, but they seem to have a complete disregard for me and the other skaters in general.
I’m absolutely fed up. I get through my breakfast and head down to the lobby of my building. I don’t live too far from the rink, so I’ve been walking a lot of mornings just to clear my head before training, and I catch the bus back at night. I’m usually too tired to walk by that point.
The changing leaves are starting to fall.
The town I’m training in is so different from anywhere else I’ve stayed before.
It’s cozy and what I imagine when I think of America.
The houses are huge. The smell of freshly cut grass hangs in the air when I walk by.
It has to be a lot to maintain, but beautiful nonetheless.
Occasionally, if I have a bit of time, I change up my route to work just to look at all the different colorful homes.
I try not to do that too much though.
Because I’m afraid of getting lost.
I walk past the flower shop I always see on my way again.
This time, I stop and take a quick peek inside; there’s always a guy at the counter making arrangements for the day, and it just looks so beautiful.
There’s flowers dangling everywhere, including the ceiling, and I’m sure it smells spectacular in there.
I’m going to go in one day. But not today.
Today I have a certain hockey player to chat to.
* * *
I make it to the rink and yank the door open. The chill of the arena greeting me, I always miss it, the feeling reminds me of a warm hug. I know they’re still going to be running drills when I finish getting ready and get down to the ice. Which I do in record time because I’m fuming.
And sure enough, when I make my way to the threshold, they’re still there, running their stupid drills. I would have more respect for them as athletes if they weren’t so tactless.
“Hey!” I yell across the ice at the only player I recognize.
The handsome one who loves smashing his body into the boards, who, by the way, I’ve recently found out is their captain.
I guess they let just anyone lead in that sport.
He turns at my voice, a grin already on his face.
He skates right up to where I’m standing.
“What’s up?” He says, I can tell by his tone that he’s not taking me seriously. I bite my lip in annoyance.
“This is the third time this week you and your little team left our gym a complete wreck, do you know that?” I fold my arms with a huff, “I was in there last night, and none of the weights were racked.” My pulse quickens the more I stare up at him, and he just stares back, a smirk forming on his lips.
I’m glad one of us is having fun right now.
“Little team?” He says, obviously trying to hold in his laugh, “I see. My bad, I guess we can get a little carried away preparing for preseason.”
“Ok.” I roll my eyes at his excuses because how careless and inconsiderate can you possibly be?
“Do you guys think you’re the only ones training for something?”
“Actually, what are you training for?” he tilts his head to the side.
“Figure skating.”
“Well, obviously.” The captain’s laugh comes out soft and breathy, “What’s your name, by the way?” He leans on his hockey stick, and it’s definitely not attractive. Not at all.
“Julian,” I blurt out without thinking, distracted by him, his gaze feeling warm on my skin.
“Julian, huh? Is that like your English name?”
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” My eyes narrow at him, brows furrowing.
“I just mean, I was asking for your birth name. I heard you’re from Korea, I’m Korean too, American, but you know.” He grins.
“Who told you that? Are you watching me or something?”
“A little. Kinda hard not to.” I feel a flush coming up my neck at the thought of him secretly watching me skate, everything suddenly feels hotter.
Is he flirting with me? Does it matter? This is a moment of assertion, Julian!
You need to focus on the situation at hand, don’t get distracted by this big idiot.
“Oh, well, I don’t know you, and I don’t talk to strangers, so.”
“Strangers? We’ve been talking for the past ten minutes.” He laughs, everything is funny to this man.
“Yeah, ten long, irritating minutes, and still a stranger, by the way, what will ten minutes change?” I pause and cross my arms.
“Actually, can you and your team just get off the ice, please?”
Why am I even having this conversation with him? I’m getting annoyed, and I don’t know if it’s with myself for entertaining him for this long or if it’s just him.
“Sure thing. And don’t worry, my little team is coming off the ice soon.” He says, stepping aside and gesturing for me to skate out past the threshold.
“Thanks.” He nods with a smirk still on his face. I don’t think I like it when he does that.
“Still no name?” The captain teases as he follows me onto the ice, skating backwards but still keeping up with me.
“I told you. I don’t know you. So-”
“What if you got to know me?” He interrupts, skating small circles around me. I find myself flushing for the second time since confronting this man. I was hoping the ice would help with cooling my body down.
I go to tell the taller boy off when his teammate yells from across the ice, “Hey, Young! We gotta start heading out soon!”
“I guess I’ll see you around.” He smiles warmly, and I try to ignore the heat pooling in my stomach.
“Whatever, just make sure you and your team clean up after yourselves from here on out.” I roll my eyes.
“Aww, we’re not little anymore.” He quips, “But of course, I’ll see what I can do, love. My name’s Carson, by the way.”
He starts toward the bench area, the rest of his team already having disappeared into the locker room.
“Ok, well, I would hate to have to talk to you about this again, Carson.” I deadpan.
“Damn, that sucks. Cause I’d love to have to talk to you again, Julian.”
“What!?” I sputter, “You’re so ridiculous, just get off the ice, please!” He grins at me, and I’m standing here blushing like an idiot as he skates away.
* * *
Training was brutal today. The exhaustion is bone-deep by the time I reach my flat.
I drop my skate bag on the bench by the door and kick my shoes off.
I like my flat pretty simple, so when they showed me this loft style, it was perfect for the time I’ll be here.
Everything is so clean and minimal. Just the way I like it, save for the little splashes of pink I enjoy sneaking in around my space.
Everything can’t be black and gray, or I’ll lose what little sanity I have left.
I round the couch and stand in front of my coffee table to sniff the new floral arrangement I picked up at the market the other day. I think I want to get one for the kitchen counter too, maybe from that florist if I ever get the time.
The hot spray of the shower greeting my skin feels amazing.
I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.
The weight of today falling away almost instantly.
After finishing my usual night routine, I flop down onto the mattress.
There’s no place like my bed. I grab one of the stuffed animals I brought from home with me.
My eyes flutter shut, letting my mind wander, maybe a bit too much because a certain raven-haired hockey player suddenly appears behind my lids.
“Carson,” I whisper to myself. I’m blushing just saying his name! It’s so ridiculous, he’s not that hot. I mean, he’s pretty hot, but I’ve got to stop. I haven’t given any boy a second thought in a very long time, so I don’t know what’s gotten into me or what makes him any different.
I should look up his socials and get it out of my system now.
Jumping up, I grab my phone, and of course, a hockey player is easy to internet stalk.
I bite my lip as I search his name, there he is in all his glory.
The first thing I notice is his age; he’s only three years older than me. Doesn’t act like it though.
I also find tons of articles about his accolades; he was recently awarded MVP in his last season, and these awards go all the way back to his childhood. He’s quite the hockey protege.
“Wow, so not only is he hot, but he’s actually a good athlete, great.
” I sigh, clicking on his social media page; there’s photos of him, his family, and of course some of his teammates.
There’s only one teammate that’s familiar to me because I always see him and Carson huddled, chatting when I’m getting ready at the rink.
They must be pretty close cause there’s posts of just those two together at different outings.
But it’s a photo of Carson and a girl that catches my attention.
She appears enough times that I shut my phone off and lie back with a deep groan.
So he definitely wasn’t flirting with me.
This is why I would never survive the dating pool.
I’d drown.
Because I can’t even tell if a man is flirting with me or not.
Though it wouldn’t matter because we’re not only so different, but even if I did know, I can’t risk having anything distracting me.
Especially not someone like him. Honestly, why am I even thinking about this now?
I’ve never even been in love or in a relationship.
I don’t know where, how, or when you even begin to fall in love.
And why do we have to fall?
Falling on the ice means death.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts when my phone rings; it’s my parents. I haven’t talked to them since settling in. I answer, smiling to myself.
“Hey, Mom,” I say softly in Korean, and I can hear her disapproval from here.
“You haven’t called. Is everything going ok? Are you eating well?”
I chuckle; she’s always worried I’ll starve and die if she’s not there to feed me. No matter how many years I’ve traveled for skating or how many countries I’ve been to on my own, she always worries. When I was younger, I used to be annoyed by this, but now I find it endearing.
“Yes, Mom, I’m eating fine.” Even though I haven’t had dinner yet tonight.
“That’s good. We miss you so much. We’re so proud of you.”
“I miss you too, Mom.”
Proud of me? Whenever they tell me this, I always wonder if they would be as proud if I didn’t win competitions.
I try to tell myself this isn’t true, but I don’t know anything else.
Or I wasn’t told otherwise, so it’s what I’ve made myself come to believe.
I know my parents love me, but I can’t seem to ever shake this thought.
“How is your training going?” I hear my dad ask.
It’s usually all he ever asks me about. My dad has always been very supportive of my skating, probably the most. But sometimes I wish we could talk about other things together.
Especially since his health has not been the best in the last few years.
I know he just wants me to do well, and it’s important that I make sure they’re both taken care of.
“It’s going fine, Dad,” I mumble, picking off the lint on the stuffed toy I’m hugging.
“That’s good.” My mom replies.
“I’ll send you some things. Send me your address.”
“Mom, please don’t. I don’t need anything. It’s not like I’m staying here.” I croak, but I know she’ll make a fuss, and I’ll end up sending her the address anyway.
“Just send it, please.” She insists.
“Alright. But don’t go too crazy.”
“Ok. Just something for your legs,” she says.
“I’ll let you go now. It’s late there. You should rest.”
“Ok, Mom, love you.”
“I love you too. Your dad says to rest and be up early.”
“I will.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I roll over, thinking about how it’s important that I do well and not get distracted by anything that could make me falter.