Ice Cold (PAUSED)

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥

"Yes, April, just like that!"

I can barely hear the high-pitched, excited chirp of my best friend's voice over the sound of wind whistling in my ears as I continue my Layback spin. I have one leg in the air, and I attempt to lean as far back as I can whilst spinning around and around. When the ceiling begins to look less like a ceiling and more like a whirlpool, I decide I've had enough, and slow to a stop, digging the toe of my skate into the ice. I blink, taking time to adjust to normal level. Lou stands a good few meters away from me, clapping her hands together.

"I seriously don't understand how you can get so much speed on that spin. I feel sick every damn time."

I laugh, skating closer to Lou, who looks more amused than she is jealous. We've been learning together since the both of us started at the ages of seven and eight, her being a year older than me. Not once have we ever been truly jealous of each other's abilities, but we love to compare in order to improve- however, we made a pact to always remain supportive, which is surprisingly easy to maintain considering we've been competing against each other for awhile now.

"Practice makes perfect, Lou."

Brushing my hair from my face, the pair of us skate closer to the walls, not wanting to get in the way of the one or two other skaters on the ice while we talk.

"Blah blah blah. I hate Laybacks."

"You only say that because you fell doing one in front of Cameron-"

She gasps and slaps me playfully across the arm.

"That was once!"

Cameron is a friend of ours who skates for our town's hockey team, the Blue Jaguars. While he is certainly an attractive guy -tall, blonde, fiendish smile- I've never really liked him like that, mostly because I know how much Lou obsesses over him. I would never do anything to hurt Lou, and getting with Cameron would be number one on the 'Hurt-Lou' list. Besides, I'm pretty certain he likes my best friend as much as she likes him. It is a crime that neither of them will admit it to each other.

"Once, twice, three times...but hey, who's counting?"

"You sly little- come here!"

I shriek as Lou lunges for me, and break out across the ice, skating as fast as I can to get away from her. I hear her laughing, much too close for my liking, and I pick up my pace, swerving to avoid colliding with one of the other skaters. We go on like this for several minutes, chasing each other up down the length of the rink until we're both exhausted. We give up simultaneously, sitting down onto the cool surface of the ice, legs spread out like teddy-bears. I grin, having to catch my breath before speaking.

"Time?"

"Probably way too late."

Lou responds to my question with a shrug, before moving to rise to full height, reaching to grasp her phone from the wall. I watch as she raises a brow, before flipping the phone to show me the screen. Now it's my turn for a brow-raise.

"Code Red. We need to evacuate immediately!"

We both scramble to get off the ice and to our bench (it isn't officially 'ours', but we claimed it as our own) to untie our skates, which we dry and shove into our bags. Hooking the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I lead the way towards the rink's exit out into the main office. However, we don't make it out fast enough, and our exit is suddenly blocked by a vast gaggle of hell itself. Boys. Sweaty, chatty, rink-hogging boys- an entire team of them. Hence, Code Red. Myself and Lou established several months prior that the hockey team often held practices back-to-back with ours. In an attempt to avoid certain insult and tease from some of the boys in particular, we agreed to leave at least five minutes early. Today, we made the mistake of losing track of time.

Lou stands by my side, and I fold my arms across my chest as though they could serve as some kind of shield against the evil that was the Blue Jags. Don't get me wrong, Cameron is one of the nice ones, but the only one.

"Well, if it isn't April Fools and her sidekick."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I hear the world's most annoying, whining voice known to man. The group of boys stop in their tracks and step aside, parting like the red fucking sea to reveal the owner of the voice. And there, basking in his self-appointed glory, is Blake Beckett. 6"3, though claims to be taller, with thick brown hair, tan skin, broad shoulders and dark eyes. Oh, and that stupid smirk of his. Now, don't think that a description as detailed as this means I'm looking at him, because I am most definitely not. I've just been stuck with him since childhood- hating him since childhood. I know him so well, I could tell you about the placement of every birthmark on his body, every hair on his head, simply because of all the time I've been forced to spend with him over the years. Our parents are good friends, so I have endured long hours of visits, dinners, barbecues and birthday parties. And, of course, the ice rink we share.

"Haha. Can you move?"

I choose not to show him any reaction to his nickname for me- he's been calling me it for years, thinks he is so funny for it. Of course, his teammates latched onto it too, which hasn't helped considering we all go to the same school. It's a small town, so it's not as though we all have much of a choice. So, nicknames spread fast- I've been April Fools since we were 13.

"..Can you?"

He looks at me with a blank stare, as if I'm the one who is in the way. Me and Lou are the ones trying to leave, for chrissakes! I open my mouth to snap at him, but I'm stopped as Lou grabs my arm and pulls me aside, leaving space for the team to walk by. Sticks and bags in hand, they all laugh and shake their heads at us, pushing and chattering as they all move to walk past us in the direction of the changing rooms. Cameron mouths an apologetic 'Sorry' as he walks by, in step with Blake. Blake catches my eye, smirks, then quickens his pace to catch up with another teammate, likely his best friend Tyler. I turn to Lou.

"What was that for?"

"I was saving us all from having to stand here and watch you two argue- when you start, you don't stop."

I open my mouth to protest what she had said, but close it again. She's right- we can't help it.

"Whatever. Can we go?"

"Thought you'd never ask."