Chapter 4
Carson and I have been interacting a lot more lately.
I know I told myself I’d never get a ride from him again, but my bus route has yet to go back to its usual schedule, and I really do need to stay behind at the rink most days.
These new program trials are kicking my ass, along with the intense gym sessions.
So, Carson giving me a ride on our longer training days has become a bit of our little thing. The rides are rather short anyway, and most of the time we just listen to music, not having much energy left.
I can’t lie, his brief company has become something I think I look forward to in my week.
An anomaly in my lonely routine.
Sometimes I want to start a conversation with him, but my lack of social skills obviously makes it hard, and I don’t know where to start.
Though he never makes my silence feel awkward.
I notice sometimes he’ll ask questions to get the conversation going, almost like he can sense I want to, but I don’t know how to.
I wish I could return this though, instead of finding out everything about him secretly through his socials like a creep.
“So, how long are you going to be training here?” Carson asks over the music playing softly throughout the car.
“Why? You want me to leave?”
“Of course not.” He says, his face pinched.
“A few months. Until after worlds.” I mumble, playing with the drawstring of my sweatpants.
“And you’ll be back home?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I see…” He nods.
I look over to him, we’re at a stoplight. He gives me a small smile, the red light washing over his features. He’s way too handsome, and I keep trapping myself in this car with him.
“How long are you training here?” I tease, trying to ease the awkwardness and my rapidly beating heart.
“You’re funny, but don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” He says, bursting into laughter, the sound of it relaxing me.
I made him laugh.
* * *
“Hey, you should come to our game next week; it’s our season opener.” Carson sneaks up on me while I’m stretching. He seems to love doing that, so I’ve become a bit used to it.
“I don’t know…” I start, “What you’ve got training? I think the ice is going to be pretty occupied that night.” He interrupts with a laugh.
He’s so annoyingly charming when he laughs at everything I say, and I always have to try to catch myself before I get lost in the sound.
“It’ll be fun, Julie. It’s my first game of the season, don’t you wanna support me?” He snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Julie? Please, Carson, you’re beyond ridiculous.”
God, so he has nicknames for me now? Great. We’re now on nickname basis after a few car rides together.
“What? You don’t like it?” He chuckles, coming to sit down on the bench next to me while I’m rummaging through my skate bag. The heat of his body settling over my skin.
“I don’t..I don’t know. I guess, whatever.” I stammer, looking away when he smiles at me. And I suppose I secretly like his silly little nickname. I don’t think anyone has ever given me one, or they’ve just never gotten close enough to.
That’s saying a lot since we’re not even close.
“I don’t have time to watch a bunch of guys beat each other up all night for sport. I actually have training in the morning.”
“You’re so cute, is that what you think we do?”
“Is it not?” I say, completely ignoring the fact that he just called me cute. Or I’m trying, at least.
“Come on, I mean, what do you even do for fun?”
I stay quiet. Because what do I even do for fun? Nothing really, I just skate day in and day out. The closest I come to doing something outside of my meticulous schedule is watching movies at night, and even that is a part of routine.
“Please tell me you do things outside of skating, Julie.” Carson furrows his brows as if he can’t believe it.
“Why would I? I need to focus.” He sighs when I say this.
“Just take a night off, I’ll leave a ticket for you at the box office.” Carson declares, standing up to leave.
He takes the heat of his body away with him. And thank god because just when I think he’s going to drop it, he gazes down at me, making my ears flush.
“I would really love if you came, Julian.” He says, his eyes softening. Why does he want me there so badly? Why do I want to give in?
He starts heading for the locker room, leaving me biting the inside of my cheek.
“I said I’m not going, Carson!” I shout after him because I feel like I need to regain some kind of control with him.
But he just holds his hand up as he’s walking away.
I can tell he’s laughing, his shoulder clearly shaking.
* * *
I can’t believe I’m outside on a training night, let alone at a hockey game.
The crowd is buzzing with enthusiasm; Carson’s team is very well loved.
It almost makes me want to get into the sport.
They’re tied with whoever they’re playing, Montreal, I think.
It’s been an intense game, and my eyes can’t help but find number eighty-eight on the ice wherever he goes.
Carson is electric down there. He looks so in his element, so charismatic, and like he knows what’s about to happen before it even happens.
And the way he interacts with his team. Everything about him is so intense.
It’s honestly kind of sexy, but I would much rather streak across my coach’s lawn before ever telling him that.
He just always seems so carefree and laid-back, not here though.
This is everything to him in this moment.
I can tell, I’ve been there so many times.
I discreetly take a photo of his back while he’s resting with his teammates on the bench.
I don’t know why, but being here feels special to me.
Maybe because not only is it my first time since I can remember doing something just for the enjoyment of it, but I also just want to immortalize this version of Carson I’m seeing.
He’s huddled with his team, hyping them up to break this tie, and I just feel proud of him.
I think I admire his duality.
“Come on, Carson..” I whisper to myself.
The crowd feels tense, we’re all on the edge of our seats with nerves, feeding off of each other’s collective energy, as they take the ice again.
And I know enough to know this is their last chance to get the upper hand and win, they’re in the final quarter or period or whatever it’s called.
My own leg is bouncing, my brows pinched.
I feel like I might start sweating. I want so badly for Carson to have this win, to have that feeling I know we both as athletes thrive off of.
The players glide across the ice with precision and well-practiced movements.
Though I don’t really understand most of what’s happening, I can measure how well it’s going by how the crowd is cheering so enthusiastically.
It feels like the arena is quaking. Carson suddenly moves so fast, I’m barely able to keep up with his figure.
He flicks his stick, taking the winning shot just before the clock above us runs out. I jump out of my seat with excitement.
“You did it!” I cheer before smacking my hand over my mouth when Carson looks straight up at me.
I try to pull my hood over my head and sink back down into my seat.
But I mean the tickets he got me are pretty close, so I’m positive he saw and heard me.
He’s already got his headgear off, grinning at me when I peek through my hood.
I groan when he sticks his tongue out at me.
Oh god, I’m going to die, my face is burning of embarrassment.
* * *
“So you came.”
I sigh and roll my eyes at the very familiar voice behind me as I’m climbing the steps. I should’ve left by now, but I wanted to wait for the majority of the crowd to head out before going. They make me a bit fidgety.
“I think you might be my lucky charm.” Carson drawls when I turn toward him, “You’re so ridiculous, seeing as you guys made it to your what? Playoffs? Last season, when you didn’t even know me.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you’re keeping up with me and my team huh?”
“Um, no, my coach told me that actually.” I scoff, folding my arms while he’s standing there grinning ear to ear.
“And you remembered.”
“Anyways, I was thinking you could come to our after party.” He starts before I can even respond to that, running a hand through his hair. Why does he look kind of…shy right now as he waits for my answer, or am I imagining things? Seeing what I wish was true.
“After party? What? You guys drink and party after every win? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the next game?” I shake my head.
Carson laughs and says, “Maybe we do, and now you knowing me can be a great way for you to loosen up a bit, chill with some hockey players, we’re a good time.”
“I doubt that.” I retort.
“Well, come see and judge for yourself. You love judging, don’t you?”
I scoff at that because I do kind of like judging, but myself mostly.
“You think if you smile at me enough, I’ll give you what you want?” I assert, crossing my arms.
“Yes, actually.” Carson bites his lip through a cocky smile. A smile that definitely doesn’t work on me. Maybe everyone else but not me?
“Please.” He urges, giving me those annoying eyes.
It’s not the smile, it’s the begging.
That’s what I’m going with.
“Come pick me up when you’re done here.” I look away, biting my lower lip. I don’t think I’ve ever asked a guy to do something for me. Not that I asked, I kind of told him to. Still, it feels weird, but oddly, nice.
“Of course, whatever you want.” He smirks.
“You’re a little annoying, you know that.” I say, “and that’s not a question.” I deadpan, and I can hear him laughing as I’m walking away to the exit.