14. Robin
ROBIN
The second I spotted Micah in the stands, I almost missed the whistle. He sat halfway up the bleachers beside Nate, one arm draped over the back, looking entirely too comfortable for someone attending a roller derby bout on a Saturday night.
As if sensing me staring, he looked up. Our eyes met. Then he winked.
Suddenly I wasn't standing at the rink anymore, I was back at Trixie's and the bass-playing priest caught my eye from the stage while I tried not to stare. Who knew one tiny wink would have such power over me.
"Robin!"
Mel's voice snapped me back to reality. I looked over. My captain was already wearing the expression she reserved for people who weren't paying attention.
"Focus."
"Sorry."
The whistle blew. And just like that, the rest of the world disappeared.
The thing about roller derby is that most people see chaos.
They see the bodies crashing together and people flying across a track.
What they don't see is the strategy. There is a timing to it with split-second decisions happening every moment.
As a jammer, my job was simple, in theory.
Get through the pack. Score points. Don't die.
The execution was considerably harder. The first jam started fast. I exploded off the line while the blockers immediately collapsed into a moving wall of hips, shoulders, and bad intentions.
The opposing team had clearly done their homework.
Two blockers shifted toward the inside line, trying to trap me against the boundary.
I cut outside. One moved with me. The other overcommitted.
That was a mistake, I saw the gap before it fully formed and dove through.
For one beautiful second, an open track stretched in front of me.
The crowd erupted. I heard my name somewhere in the noise.
Then I was gone. Skates humming beneath me. It was the best feeling in the world.
The first pass earned points. The second earned more. By the time the jam ended, the Reapers were already up. I skated back toward our bench grinning.
Zella met me with a high five hard enough to sting. "There she is."
"Damn right."
The bout settled into a rhythm after that. Hit. Recover. Score. Repeat. Every jam brought a new challenge. Every lap demanded a new solution. I loved it. The thrill of looking for my space and breaking through was a rush.
The opposing blockers were good. But so was our wall. Mel controlled the pack like a chess master. Sonia delivered hits that made the crowd lose its mind. Belle somehow managed to smile while committing acts of violence. It was a beautiful thing.
At one point I got launched entirely out of bounds and landed on my ass. The crowd loved that too. Traitors. I popped back up laughing and rejoined the pack before the opposing jammer could take advantage.
Halfway through the second period, I glanced toward the stands during a timeout. Micah was leaning forward in his seat. His attention followed every movement on the track. Every hit. Every point. Every time I broke free from the pack. He was watching.
The final jam ended with the crowd on its feet. The scoreboard flashed.
Grimm Reapers: 182
Daytona Dolls: 147
The rink exploded. I threw both arms into the air. Belle tackled me. Mel was next, slamming into us with a hug. Soon the whole team was there in a giant reaper group hug.
Across the rink, I found Micah beaming at me.
An hour later, Trixie's was packed.
The team occupied nearly an entire section of the bar and pitchers appeared with alarming frequency.
The music was loud. The laughter was louder.
The stories somehow got bigger every time they were told.
Apparently, Belle's hit in the second period had gone from impressive to physically launching a woman into low orbit. That's how derby stories worked.
I squeezed into a booth beside Micah while everyone argued about who deserved MVP. The answer was obviously me. I was prepared to fight anyone who disagreed.
"You're insufferable," Belle informed me.
"You're jealous,” I said.
"Of what?"
"Natural talent."
The entire table groaned. Micah laughed beside me. I leaned into him automatically. I couldn’t help the smile plastered across my face. The team was together. We'd won and Micah was beside me.
Belle slid another round of drinks onto the table, I decided I wasn't going to think about complicated things tonight.
Tonight was for celebrating. Tomorrow could deal with the consequences.
Trixie's somehow got louder as the night went on.
I wasn't entirely sure how that was possible, the place had already been packed when we arrived.
Now every table seemed full, music blasted from the speakers, and half the people in the building were shouting over each other while pretending they weren't.
I was halfway through another beer when I spotted Van behind the bar.
Her purple hair was styled high on her head, bright enough to be seen from across the room.
She moved through the crowd with the confidence of someone who'd worked at Trixie's long enough to know exactly how much nonsense she was willing to tolerate… . which wasn't much.
I pointed. "Micah, you've officially met most of the team. You haven't met Van yet."
Micah followed my gaze toward the bar.
The second Van noticed me waving, her expression became suspicious. She made her way over carrying a tray of empty glasses.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Wow."
"What do you want?"
I pointed toward Micah.
"This is Micah."
Van looked at him. Then looked at me, then looked back at him.
“He’s the priest,” Belle yelled across the table with a slight slur.
Micah groaned.
I laughed into my drink.
Van blinked. She looked between us again. "Like an actual priest?"
I burst out laughing, “No, he was the Halloween priest."
Relief washed across her face. "Oh, thank God."
The table immediately dissolved into laughter.
Van pointed at him. "I was concerned when I thought you were actual clergy."
"Nope, just pretend clergy."
She nodded. Then crossed her arms. "If you hurt her, I'll hit you with a bar stool."
Micah looked entirely too calm about that. "Good to know."
"I'm serious."
"I believe you."
Van seemed satisfied by the answer. Then she disappeared back toward the bar before I could embarrass myself further. At first, I didn't notice Ariel watching her go, but then I saw her smiling after Van like she was someone lovesick.
Poor Ariel. Poor Van. Poor everyone, really.
At some point somebody ordered shots. That should have been the warning sign.
It wasn't. The warning sign should have been Belle announcing karaoke.
Instead, somehow, it became the main event.
"I am not singing."
Five minutes later, I was singing. Apparently, my convictions had limits.
The entire team crowded around the karaoke stage while strangers cheered us on.
Mel reluctantly joined. Sonia claimed she wasn't participating and then somehow knew every word.
Zella treated the microphone like she was headlining Madison Square Garden.
Ariel bounced beside us singing lyrics she absolutely did not know. And through all of it, Micah laughed.
By the second round of shots, I was feeling excellent.
By the third, I was leaning heavily into everything. I laughed harder, talked louder, became unusually affectionate, as the world started to get a little blurry around the edges. Micah sat beside me in the booth while I rested my head on his shoulder.
"This is nice," I said.
"It is."
"You know what else is nice?"
"What?"
I poked his chest. "You. You are wonderful."
Micah laughed. "I think that's the alcohol talking."
"No." I pointed again. "The alcohol is making me honest."
"Oh no." The table erupted.
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my drink.
At some point Belle ended up singing Bon Jovi. But the icing on the cake was Ariel convincing Van to get up there and do a Love Shack duet with her. By the time the night was winding down, I was officially drunk. I had left buzzed by the time the shots came out, and tipsy left me after the third.
I looked to Micah. I was ready to go home. Or more specifically I was ready to have him take me home.
“Hey,” I said to him.
I may have stumbled when I was there, but he reached out and caught my arms steadying me.
“Woah.”
“I like you.”
“I like you too.”
“Will you take me home?”
“It would be my honor.”
“It would be my honor…” I said mocking him with a flourished bow… that promptly made me trip.
He steadied me before giving me that stupid gentle smile I was growing all too fond of. “Alright, let’s get you home.”
He gathered my things and put me in his car. There was a definite chance I would feel this tomorrow, but right now my pleasantly alcohol-soaked state, that felt like a problem for future Robin.