Chapter 3
Tip three; choose friends who embody the person you want to be.
You mimic those around you so if you surround yourself with people who do not align with your values and who you wish to be, you will never become who you were meant to be.
Choose wisely, for you are choosing for your past, present and future self.
Ivy
The rink is quiet at this hour. It always is when Charlotte and I come here.
She hates people seeing her skate now.
Not because she can't.
Because of the faces.
The pity. The whispers. The oh my god, remember when-
She'd rather the ice be empty than deal with that.
So, we come early.
Or late.
When it's just us, the still silence and the ice.
Today feels quieter.
Usually that's something I'd enjoy. But today, it feels suffocating. Like the whole campus is holding its breath at what just happened.
How I wish for anything to take my mind off what I just agreed to.
Sometimes I think I'm an idiot. But today? Today I know I am.
I don't mean to look at him.
I really don't.
But he's back on the ice now, skates on, stick in hand, moving like he owns the space.
And my eyes keep drifting.
I force them away.
Asher Hudson.
Someone I've known since I was six years old, and my brother's best friend for just as long. And also, Charlottes older brother.
And I just agreed to. . . what? Friends with benefits.
No that's not right, because that would mean we would have had to at-least have a friendship first.
And Asher and me? We're not friends. We're not anything, really.
He's Charlottes brother. That's all he's ever been. All he will ever be.
You can't have a crush on your best-friend's brother.
You don't agree to let him teach you-
When I do glance up again, it's only for a second - long enough to register what everyone else always does.
Asher Hudson has always been... noticeable.
Tall in a way that makes rooms feel smaller.
Broad shoulders, dark hair, that easy confidence that drew people in without him ever trying.
He's the kind of guy girls used to orbit in high school, trailing after him in packs, suddenly very interested in being Charlottes best friend the moment they realised who her brother was.
It never lasted.
As soon as Asher made it clear he wasn't interested, they'd disappear just as quickly, leaving Charlotte hurt and confused and wondering what she'd done wrong. I'd seen it happen more than once - friendships fizzling out the moment they realised proximity to him didn't mean access.
It made it really hard to make friends in school, wondering who was there for Charlotte and who was there for her brother - or mine.
That's why Charlie and I tended to just stick together. Having one true friend was better than having many fake friends.
What Asher proposed-
It doesn't seem that easy, but he spoke like it was. When I really think about it, I guess it is. I don't see Charlie's brother as anyone except - well Charlie's brother.
It's not like I have a crush on him or any feelings to develop. I've known him my whole life, I doubt a few more conversations - even if they are a little bit R-rated, will change anything.
His blue eyes settle on me now, and I stumble, almost crashing it Charlotte.
She rights me, arms on my shoulder.
"Are you okay? You're quiet."
I nod, forcing myself to ignore the man shooting picks in the corner of the rink and focus on Charlie.
"Is this about Dain the dickless donkey?" I almost grin at her nickname for him.
I shake my head. "I'm fine." I focus of my edges.
Left. Right. Cross. Breathe.
Charlotte glides beside me, her eyes perceptive. "You're distracted."
"I'm not."
"You just nearly clipped the boards."
"I did not."
She narrows her eyes.
I push harder, forcing myself into rhythm.
Charlotte skates up beside me, nudging my shoulder. "Soo."
I groan immediately. "No."
She laughs. "You can't pre-no me."
"I absolutely can."
She grins wickedly. "Any updates on what we talked about yesterday?"
My stomach tightens.
This is it.
The first lie. Because there no way I can tell her the truth.
I keep my eyes on the ice.
"Nope."
Too quick.
She narrows her eyes. "Nope?"
"Nope."
She watches me for a beat too long.
Then shrugs.
"Still think the friends-with-benefits thing is genius. My best plan yet." Charlotte says quietly, eyes flickering over to her brother to make sure he can't overhear.
I almost want to tell her it's too late. He already heard everything.
I force a casual snort. "It's chaotic. Messy. It's- a stupid idea."
"I disagree. It's efficient."
"It's messy."
"You said that." She rolls her eyes. "It's educational."
I almost laugh.
Almost confess.
Because that's exactly what it is. Tutoring for . . . sex tips.
With her brother of all people.
"Maybe we should join the dating apps. Give them a go."
My nose turns up at the thought. "Please, no."
Charlotte laughs, rolling her eyes at my dramatics.
The sound of another puck whizzing into the net has my eyes wanting to flick to the owner of the noise.
I don't.
Charlotte rolls her eyes at her brothers ruckus. "God, he's a brute."
I spin, facing her and forcing my full attention on her - avoiding looking to the side where all the noise is coming from. "What about you? Any interesting things happening in your world?"
And can we please leave mine buried for as long as possible. Possibly until I die of old age.
"Cute guy at the theatre last night."
That gets my attention.
"Cute how?"
"Tall. Brown hair. Forearms. Dirty moe." She grins. "Cowboy hat."
I snort. "Of course."
"Like... annoyingly cute."
"Did you flirt?"
"I smiled."
"You work in retail. You're meant to smile."
She elbows me, laughing. "Shut up. He had that thing."
"What thing?"
"The forearms." She makes a face like she's suffering. "He reached for his wallet and I nearly tripped."
I giggle. "You didn't."
"I did." She points at her knee like it's the culprit. "My body was like, absolutely not. It's always failing me."
I know she's joking but my heart pangs.
She turns suddenly, ripping her gaze away from mine as she moves into a delicate seamless spin.
And then she stumbles.
My heart lurches to my throat and that's when I realise Asher must have been watching because he starts skating over after his sisters stumble.
She waves him off, but she won't look him in the eye.
"I'm fine, it was just a catch in the ice. They should fix that."
We both know better, but we don't call her out on her lie.
"Lottie." Asher says. The nickname I haven't heard from him since they were children.
"I'm fine." She still doesn't look at him.
"You're not." Asher doesn't get the chance to say much else before the rink doors are slamming open and the rest of the hockey team are filtering in.
"Off," she mutters, like she's ordering herself. "I'm getting off."
I follow her toward the bench, staying close, like my body knows to guard her even if she'd punch me for it.
She sits hard. Hands on her knee. Breathing shallow.
I sit beside her and watch her pretend she's not angry.
It doesn't work.
The team's voices get louder. Closer. Someone laughs.
Charlotte's shoulders tense at the sound.
She hates them seeing her like this.
She hates anyone seeing her like this.
Two years ago, she was skating a different rink.
A different level.
Nineteen. Nationals. Real judges. Real pressure. Real chance. Something she'd worked hard for.
She fell on a jump.
A bad fall. It was just . . . wrong.
Tore her ACL. Meniscus shredded. MCL ruptured.
She healed. But she'd never get the chance to skate professionally again. That was her dream and now two and a half years later, she was still dealing with the after effects of it all shattering right in front of her.
Some injuries don't heal the way people want them to. And some injuries dig their claws in further than skin deep.
Charlotte rubs the spot just under her leggings where the scar lives.
"I hate that it still does this," she whispers, low enough only I catch it.
I don't know what to say. There's not much you can say. So, I just wrap my arm around her shoulder and lay my head on against hers, letting her lean on me as we listen to the hockey team start practice.