Ice Cold (PAUSED)

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥

I don't even allow myself a second to think about the choice I just made until I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Lou's car, driving far enough away that I know I won't have a chance of seeing Blake. I sit there, hands resting in my lap, fingers balled up. I stare at my nails whilst Lou belts her heart out to Taylor Swift.

It was the game that had changed my mind. We had been sitting somewhere in the middle of the crowd, and, as Blake skated out onto the ice, every person around me went wild. I realised then how much people really loved him, and how much criticism I would receive if I were to be seen with him. My photo would be plastered across social media, jealous girls swarming to comment about my hair, my nose, my jaw, my figure- anything to make me insecure. Now, that I may have been able to handle- what I couldn't handle would be the criticism I would receive if we were to stop seeing each other. Everyone would assume it would be my fault. I probably wouldn't even be able to show up to the rink without being heckled, or at least embarrassed to be in Blake's presence. Call me a coward for not trying, but I'd rather cut all ties before I become attached, before I get hurt, or before I hurt him.

"You good, April?"

I blink out of my trance and look at Lou. I smile.

"Yeah. Great."

"Fantastic..so, we gotta make a quick detour at my place, then it's straight to Tyler's."

I nod, despite not wanting to go to Tyler's party. However, it's tradition. Lou and I have never once missed an after-game party, mostly because skipping would be social suicide. Not going basically implies that you think hockey doesn't matter- and who the hell in Bluestown thinks hockey doesn't matter? I don't like the team, but I'll admit they are the only thing that gives our small town any importance whatsoever. We're known for producing the most NHL players over the years, and by the looks of it, the town's list of players is only going to increase.

It doesn't take long before we pull up at Lou's house and hop out. She has a house similar size to my own- mostly because all of the homes in our town were built simultaneously. She has an older brother, except he's away at college. Her parents are supposedly 'still at work', which leaves the house to ourselves. We immediately beeline for Lou's room, which is on the ground floor. I've always loved her room- it's decorated with deep purple, lined with posters and vinyl. On one wall is a window overlooking their long garden, which flourishes with a bright array of flowers in the spring. Right now, it's covered in a thin layer of ice.

Lou let's me shower first, and I take as little time as I can to wash my hair and cleanse my face, then scrubbing at my body. I've always appreciated my genetics, as I have my Mom's hourglass shape. Obviously, I have my insecurities. My protruding stomach after too much to eat, the thickness of my thighs when I sit down, the size of my forehead. However, as I glance at myself in the mirror, I try not to think about it. Instead, I wrap a towel around myself and head into Lou's bedroom, allowing for Lou's turn in the shower. Humming along to Hozier, I walk across to Lou's closet, where I have several items of clothing hung up. We call it 'April's A's' because they're probably my nicest clothes- I keep them at Lou's for two reasons. One, I can't be trusted to keep them in good condition. Two, we often detour at Lou's pre-party, so it makes sense to keep my party things here.

I frown, then reach for a pair of light blue jeans. I then grab a fitted black top and my heels from the bottom of the closest. The outfit is casual, but it's the heels that give it the party flare I like. Besides, it gives me an extra few inches, which brings me to the average population height. Much less difficult to lose sight of Lou and her little head this way.

By the time I've struggled into my jeans, tops and heels, Lou struts out. I turn off the hairdryer I'd begun using, looking my best friend up and down. She's wearing heels, but is adorned in a dress. It's one colour (purple, unsurprisingly) and fitted to her slim figure. I grin.

"You look great!"

"As do you."

She speaks as she crosses the room to stand in front of me. Knowing the drill, I plop myself down on the end of her bed, watching as she withdraws her makeup bag from a drawer. I remain still as she applies various products to my face, her expression concentrated, her movements professional. She's always had considerably better makeup skills than me, and I trust her to make me look good. So, when she steps back, I tilt my head to look in the mirror. I raise my brows, surprised by how pretty the girl in the mirror looks. My cheekbones look finer, my jaw sharper, my lashes thick and dark, my lips plump and glossed.

"Thank you, Lou."

"Thank you, my little model."

I snicker, reaching for the hair straighteners. It takes me awhile to get my hair to the pin-straight look I like, and by the time I'm done, Lou has finished her own makeup. Her lips are noticeably bright red. I smirk.

"Really? Tonight?"

"Hell yeah."

Lou always wears red lipstick on nights she wants to..blow off some steam.

"What about that girl?"

"Dead to me."

"What about Ca-"

"Nope."

I shut my mouth and nod, understanding that this clearly isn't a conversation she's keen on pursuing. I glance around, smooth my hair down, then rise to my feet. I change the subject.

"Should we go?"

"Let's."