Ice Cold (PAUSED)

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

"Really, Blake? I mean, really?"

I'm stood leaning against the kitchen counter, silent as I watch my dad pace back and forth. He's pissed. My mom just sits at the table, shaking her head at me.

"Look, I-"

I pause, knowing I really don't have a satisfactory excuse for either of them. That little cunt deserved what he'd got, and he was lucky to have gotten away without a scratch on him. The moment he'd laid a grimy hand on April, I saw red. The next thing I really remember is Coach arriving, pulling me off and calling my parents. Meanwhile, everyone else had dispersed, April included. She hadn't even looked at me. I sigh.

"I was just defending April."

"I understand that, Son, but you have to think of the consequences. Do you want to be benched?"

"Of course I don't, but-"

My dad lifts a hand, and I clamp my mouth shut. This time, my mom speaks, and it's odd how curious her expression is.

"Since when have you cared to defend April, sweetheart?"

"You're joking, right? I would've done the same if it was any other girl. You didn't raise me to stand by and watch while a guy crosses boundaries."

I know I'm right, because both of my parents fall silent. I shift and let it sink in. I would've done the same, that's true, but whether or not I would've said what I said, or been that angry, is debatable. There is no use in denying this any more- I'm feeling something aside from disgust towards April which I haven't felt towards anyone. It's been distracting me, which is a habit I hate- usually, my focus is on the ice, and the ice alone; anything that directs my attention elsewhere, I discard. And yet, with April, that's the exact opposite of what I want to happen.

"Go to your room, Blake. We'll talk tomorrow."

I open my mouth to protest my mom's words, but she shakes her head, holding out her hand.

"Your phone."

Rolling my eyes, I step forward, withdraw my phone from my back pocket and place it in her hand. It's not much of a punishment considering I barely use it at night aside from the occasional group chat banter or YouTube video because I know it will prevent me from sleeping. My dad gestures towards the stairs, and I don't bother to try and get the last word in as I move to saunter across, going up the stairs three at a time.

As I walk into my room, I look around at the mess that has formed over the last few days. Typically, I like to keep my space organised, but I haven't been in the mood for laundry and bed-making..really, they're at the bottom of the priority list as of now. However, seeing as I have literally nothing else to do, I reluctantly bend to gather my clothes, dumping them all into the laundry basket as I can't differentiate which is clean and which is dirty. I decide to skip out on making my bed, instead changing out of my clothes until I remain shirtless and in boxers. I release a long exhale as I collapse down onto my bed, closing my eyes.

I think of her laugh.

Damn it, Blake.

Her hair.

Stop it.

Her scent, her eyes, her smile, her figure, her-

I groan and roll so that I'm face-down in my pillow. If it isn't enough that my physical life is occupied by the consequences of defending April Jones, she now appears to be living within my head, too. It's a pain, and I acknowledge that I'll never be able to relax with her on my mind like this. It's bugging me that she didn't speak to me, didn't even look in my direction before just leaving earlier. I don't know what I expected, but it just wasn't that. Did I scare her off? Surely not. Most of the other girls I know would fall at my feet if I defended them like I did April, but she just seemed embarrassed.

Ping!

Something small and round ricochets off my window. I shoot up, staring at it, attempting to differentiate whether or not I am just imagining things.

Ping!

A rock, one small enough to be picked up and thrown, hits the window for a second time. It becomes rapidly clear that I am neither dreaming nor being attacked by a bird or something, so slowly I get up off my bed and approach my window, opening it up. A rush of cold evening air invites itself into my room, and I shudder, leaning to look down at my drive.

Holy shit.

April Jones is standing beneath my window, rocks in hand, wearing what looks to be pyjama bottoms and a tank top. My eyes widen, and she offers me a sheepish grin, calling up to me.

"Surprise?"

"April, what are you- why-"

"Relax, this isn't Romeo and Juliet."

She pauses, then continues, quieter.

"I just..I had to talk to you. Can I-"

"Come in? Yeah, sure, just not through the front door."

My parents would murder the both of us if they found her here, so I know I have no other choice. I lean as far out of the window as I can without falling, and April, as though hearing my thoughts, hoists herself up on top of a trash bin, reaching up. Straining, I manage to grasp her hand and lift her high enough so that she can pull herself up and through the window. Once she's safely inside, I shut the window and step back, realising then that I'm half naked. Playing it of casual, I pluck my shirt from the end of my bed and pull it over my head. When I look back, April is looking away, cheeks flushed. I smirk.

"Well, hi."

"Hi." She responds, still looking at the floor.

"I'm decent now, you know. What did you want to-"

I don't have time to finish my sentence, because April closes the space between us, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me.