Thin Ice

Chapter Two

Cassie:

    I stare at my newfound friend. He's a bit taller than me, but not tall enough to be uncomfortable. He's muscular from what I can see. He has this silver brown hair that is effortlessly styled in what you'd expect a hockey player's hair to look like, and he has these gray-green eyes that always look slightly panicked.

    "Here, give me your number," I pull out my phone from my skating bag, open it to my contacts, and hand it to him smoothly.

    He lets out a small, "Oh," and then reaches for my phone, but immediately drops it as I pass it off to him, "Sorry," He cringes as he bends down to pick it up. He takes a small look at my screen to make sure it isn't broken, but I know it isn't. I have my phone locked in practically a brick of a case because of the amount of times I've dropped it on the ice. I'm not allowed to have it during practice, especially not on me, but there are moments when I just want to listen to some music.

    "Do you, uh, need my number too?" He asks, tripping a bit over his words. I notice his cheeks are slightly flushed, and I can't help thinking he's a bit cute. He'll be a great guy friend to have around, he seems like he needs some help cracking out of his shell, and I love a challenge.

    "No, I'll just text you," I say nonchalantly. It's a power move, and I know it. He seems to know it too though because he starts to shake slightly while typing his number into my phone, "Hey, relax, if you're stressed, I can give you my number too."

    "That would be great, I don't like surprises," He says, and I can visibly see him stop shaking. He takes a deep breath, finishes typing out his number and name, and then looks at me, "You should know that I have anxiety. I know it's not very "manly" of me or whatever, but-,"

    I cut him off quickly, "I don't care," He seems taken aback for a second, "I don't care if it's manly or not. People get stressed out, some more than others. It's fine. I'm not going to make fun of you because it's not something to make fun of," I take my phone out of his hands because he seems frozen in place. His mouth slightly drops open and he looks at me like I'm the first girl he's ever seen in his life. I smile crookedly and look away from him. I don't like feeling flustered, so I take a minuscule moment to collect myself by motioning for him to give me his phone. He does, and I quickly put in my number before giving it back to him. I look back at his still dumbfounded face, "Alright, so with this whole friend thing, when do you practice? I have figure skating practices, but in my free time, we can hang out. Preferably right before or after you practice, so I get an opportunity to meet the other hockey guys. Are they all jerks?"

    "Well, a few of them just stay away from me, but there are a couple that are bad. Um, do you remember the one that said Coach probably, well, wanted me off- off of the team?" He struggles to get the last bit out, and I realize I'm going to have to be patient with him. He's been surprisingly open with me though, which makes sense now that I'm thinking about it. How many people has he been able to talk to recently?

    "Yeah, I remember him."

    "That was Casey. Usually, the guys don't pick on me unless he starts it. He's really tall, dark hair, dark eyes," He motions in front of his face, and I nod at him before turning my phone back on.

    "I have practice tomorrow at five, what about you?" I go through my schedule and realize I'm very predictable. Practice every morning at five except for Sunday, and work every Tuesday and Thursday after school.

    "Five? Like five in the morning?" His face, I realize, tends to talk for him. His eyebrows raise and he seems to find me crazy.

    "Of course, I have to practice consistently and at a time that doesn't interfere with anything else school-wise," I barely hold in my eye-roll because if it was up to me, I would practice maybe twice a week. My schedule was decided solely on what my mom thought I needed for my skating "career".

    "Oh," He takes this in and starts to bite the inside of his cheek while frowning, "I have practice every other day after school," I give him a look to signal him to give me more details, "Oh, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at four-thirty. It ends at six."

    "Alright. Well, Devin, I will see you here at six on Monday. Text me this weekend for my burger order," I hold my hand out for a handshake, and he looks at it for a second which makes things awkward before grabbing on.

    "Just let me know when you get here-," The door to the rink opens, and the chilly November air of California sweeps through my legs and seeps into my thin dress. I try to let go of Devin's hand, but his grip seems to tighten.

    "Devin, what're you-,"

    I get cut off by another voice, "Devin, who's this?" I turn towards the door and see a guy around our age. He's tall, he has dark eyes, and dark hair. Casey. I quickly look back at Devin who hasn't let my hand go. His stance is on guard, his eyes are swimming in panic, his grip tightens even more on my hand, and I try not to cringe at the fact that it feels like my blood flow is being cut off. I glance back at Casey who's staring at our conjoined hands. A flash of surprise comes across his face, and suddenly it clicks. I know what I have to do to get Casey to stop bullying Devin.

    I square my shoulders and take a step closer to Devin to wrap my other arm around the one holding my hand. We're shoulder to shoulder, and that finally gets Devin to look at someone other than Casey. His gaze meets my produced sweet smile, and his eyebrows knit together.

    "Devin, you didn't tell him that you had a girlfriend?"

    "Girlfriend?" He looks at me, the most confused face ever contorting his features and I widen my eyes and my smile. I motion my head slightly at Casey, and all of a sudden Devin's face turns to pure panic again, "Girlfriend," He says again, and this time it isn't a question.

    I roll my eyes playfully and step away from Devin to face Casey, "Hi, I'm Cassie. I'm Devin's girlfriend," I don't smile at him, I stare until he looks away. He looks back at Devin who I'm sure still looks surprised out of his mind, but I pray he's got it together. Casey looks back at me, gives me a once over, and a small smirk starts on his lips.

    "Devin," Casey says with a tone that would convince anyone that they're friends, "Why haven't you introduced me yet?" Casey turns back to me, "I'm Casey. Hey, that's kind of funny, Casey and Cassie. If you ever decide you want someone," he pauses, "different, call me up. Devin will give you my number."

    All of a sudden, I realize that maybe I should help Devin get friends outside of hockey. These guys, if they're all similar to Casey, are not it. Or, just possibly, I can make them all turn on Casey if I play my cards right. I giggle fakely, scrunching my nose and putting all of the sass I've pent up from not using it on my mother in my smile and response, "You know, Devin never talked about the people he played hockey with, and now I see why. You're a jerk. I would rather stick a fork in my eye, swirl it about like a bite of pasta, and chomp on it before I ever decide to talk to you. I don't know how Devin has the patience for someone like you. He's a saint, and you wish you were half as genuine as him," I flip him off to his disgusting flabbergasted face before turning around, grabbing Devin's hand, and stomping out of the rink lobby.

    Devin stumbles behind me as I drag him along. I take a quick look around the parking lot to make sure my mom hasn't stuck around, and swivel around to Devin. Cold wind whisps my hair around, and I wrap myself up in my arms, "Where is your car?" He points wordlessly, and I start off in that direction. I shrug my skating bag higher on my shoulder as Devin runs a few steps to catch up to me. He isn't looking in the direction of his car though, he's looking at me. How he hasn't tripped and fallen flat on his face by now is beyond me.