Knee Pads

26 | initial pass

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX | INITIAL PASS

the first pass a jammer makes through the pack. no score is awarded on this pass; it is only used to establish the lead jammer.

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          I found myself in a stupor during the drive back to campus.

          Though Corinne wouldn't leave me behind to fend for myself during a storm, she wasn't in a particularly chatty mood, either, and rushed to start the bike's engine as soon as I sat down behind her. I never had a chance to touch the subject, to try and get some answers about what had just happened, and I doubted she'd want to talk after we got back to campus.

          The silence gave me time to attempt to process everything, even though my brain had turned into mush and none of my thoughts felt particularly coherent. After spending so much time agonizing over my growing feelings for her, pained with the reality where she wouldn't reciprocate said feelings, having it all change seemingly overnight had been the biggest mood whiplash of my life.

          My lips still tingled. I had to touch her if I didn't want to fall off the bike and even that had changed its nature thanks to the moment we'd shared back at the rink, where everything I did, everywhere I touched her felt a million times more intimate than before. If I were to change anything about it—if I loosened or tightened my grip on her waist, if I sat closer or further away from her—she could get the wrong idea.

          I didn't regret a thing. It had been one of the most explosive, electrifying moments of my life, but I wasn't sure how she felt about it.

          I knew she hated it when I assumed stuff about her, her feelings, or her thoughts, and she hated it when I said she was being cryptic, but that was the truth. I hated being kept in the dark, especially when it was over something that also concerned me, and there were so many other ways she could have told me she—maybe—had feelings for me as well. Nearly breaking my heart in the process hadn't been necessary and it would have saved me the heartache of having to rebuild myself.

          Even though the road was slippery and dangerous, we got back to campus faster than I'd expected and in one piece. Corinne waited for me to hop off the bike before doing the same herself, struggling to find her footing once she did, but she still backed away when I tried to help her, which wasn't a good preview of what was there to come.

          She didn't keep her distance while we made our way towards our dorm, walking as close as she always had, but I still knew something was amiss. Whether we wanted to or not, things between us had changed and we couldn't pretend they hadn't, but I didn't want this to be what would tear us apart for good. After all it had taken for us to get here, I refused to walk away like it was nothing and, most importantly, without a proper explanation.

          Inside, I didn't let her leave. When she turned her back to me, ready to leave me hanging for the millionth time, I pulled her back by an arm. To my surprise, she didn't fight it.

          "We need to talk," I told her.

          "I know," she replied, so quietly I barely heard her over the faint buzzing of the heating system in the hallway. There wasn't anyone around—everyone who was smart had sought refuge in their dorm rooms—yet she still couldn't bring herself to speak louder than a murmur. "I know that. It's just . . . it's complicated. I'm not sure I still can give you what you want or what you need, and—"

          All I wanted to do was grab her by the shoulders and beg her to have more faith in herself, in me, but the less selfish, more rational part of me understood where she was coming from. When she looked at me, she probably saw a reminder of everything she'd lost, everything I'd cost her—the captain position, Drew, her spot on the team—even if she didn't realize it at first.