Perfect Snow (Seasons #1)

Chapter 4: Opening Faceoff

"I need to see her again."

"And I need to glove up," says Preston wryly. There is twenty minutes left until he is on the ice and transformed into a mean, rocket-launching machine.

"Do you think she'll come watch the game?" I ask, following him down the hall bustling with players in various states of suiting up for the match, moms and dads and siblings wishing them luck or giving them pep talks.

"There is literally nothing else to do in this town today. Everyone will be here. Now go away," he says, tugging on the laces of his skates. "I need my head in the game, not thinking about your girl, because that makes me think about my girl, and then I turn into a care bear." He straightens up, almost at my eye level, and looks at me solemnly. "I can't be a care bear, Rhys. I need to be a grizzly bear. Real mean one."

I squeeze his massive shoulder pad. Not that he can feel it, but for dramatic effect. "Go be a grizzly bear. Tear those suckers limb from limb and paint the ice red with their bloody intestines."

He looks at me aghast. "Dude... Too much."

"Gory?"

"Yeah. Dial it down a notch," he says, giving me a side-eyed look as he leaves. "Or like ten."

"Don't break anything important!" I call after him. "Make me a proud mama bear!"

He flips me the finger without turning around.

It's out of love.

I turn around and head towards the bleachers. My eyes are scanning heads even before I've made it through the glass door of the heated vestibule and out into the brisk afternoon air. There's a glowing smudge high above that suggests the sun still hangs out with planet Earth. The mixed scents of roasted chestnuts, hot dogs, and fries carry onto the light breeze.

Where are you, where are you... 

There.

I physically cannot stop the smile that spreads across my face any more than I can stop my lungs from expanding. She's sitting in the topmost row sandwiched between Felicity and... that guy. Again. Maybe he's not together with them... Wait. He is talking to her. Why is he talking to her? My smile drops and so does something in my stomach. I think it might have been my heart. Huh... Who'd have guessed it's that heavy?

A cacophony of cheers and hoots bursts from all sides at a line brawl that erupts before the game has even started. I hadn't noticed the players lining up. It takes another moment for my legs to start moving, and I urge them to take me in the opposite direction from where I want to go.

I join my grandparents and my brother Jake close to the front when the match is underway. "There's our boy, showing them how it's done!" My grandpa cheers for Preston. He flashes me a grin. Jake is jumping up and down like the energizer bunny. Whenever someone gets tackled, he emits this high-pitched shriek that must be something he picked up from Aunt Muriel. There is no other explanation.

"Enough with the screeching, Short! You sound like a hormonal macaw," I say, but Jake keeps at it. The pipes on that kid. There are days I wish my height was at least a bit intimidating to him, but I am sure from his vantage point I am just a large, talking tree that rarely makes sense and exists to be ignored unless it can be used to reach something for him. My brother is so hyper most of the time that I am genuinely concerned sometimes. And while he can be incredibly, mind-numbingly irritating at times, he is nice to have around some of the time, I'll give him that much.

"Grandma, what's hormonal?" He asks some ten minutes later.

"Where did you hear that?" She raises an eyebrow. Jake just points at me, and that eyebrow drops along with its twin. "Rhys."