It's You.

Chapter 2: New Beginnings

Towards the end of the game, Miles made his way to his secret hiding spot, waiting for Garrett, patting my shoulder as he made his way up the stairs from where we were sitting, letting me know exactly what he was doing. I went to the front entrance, sitting on a bench, watching team members and audience members leave, lugging their bags and skates on their shoulders.

I checked my phone, noticing the amount of time I had been sitting there, letting out a deep sigh. 45 minutes. Nearly everyone had left, a few employees sweeping the floor in the rink, others changing garbage bags. I listened to the hum of the heat coming on, my back starting to ache from the hard bench beneath me.

Where is Miles?

I sighed, running my hand through my hair, staring at the clock on my phone, watching as another minute ticked by. I looked down at my feet, noticing the soles of my sneakers coming apart from the canvas surrounding the rest of my foot.

"Hey," I heard a deep voice say in front of me, jolting me up on the bench. I looked up, noticing the red and white on the jersey in front of me, the cardinal logo the biggest feature on the front of it. #6.

"Hi," I said, sitting up straighter, my stomach dropping as the same eyes from the penalty box found mine. "Good game." I cleared my throat, readjusting the way I was sitting, begging Miles to show up to get me out of this awkward encounter.

"Thanks," he said, adjusting his bag and skates on his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh," I said, uncrossing my legs, halfheartedly looking around for Miles. "I'm waiting for my friend. He's my ride home."

"Okay cool," he said, nodding his head and looking at the floor "Well, have a good night then."

"You too," I said, watching him offer a small smile and wave, pushing the steel framed doors open, the cool night air leaking through. "#6. Clark." I read on the back of his jersey. I could feel my face starting to get warm, imagining the pink growing on the apples of my cheeks.

I sighed again, checking my phone for the time. I had tried to call Miles five times, each going straight to his voicemail. A small part of me was terrified, never trusting when Miles would meet Garrett. There was always a voice in my head telling me that I would find him, bloody, gasping for breath, just like Garrett had told him would happen if anyone found out.

I heard the door to the outside open again, a flash of white appearing in my peripheral vision, the night air wafting across my nose. I could smell the fall leaves on the ground after the quick autumn shower we had had earlier in the afternoon. The cold bit at the inside of my nostrils, the entire season's scent permeating my body.

"Hey," I heard again. It was the same deep voice, slightly raspy and full, completely warming my stomach as the sound permeated my ears.

I looked over toward the door, Clark standing there in his jersey, no gear on his shoulder anymore. He shifted from one foot to the other, still halfway in the doorway, his dark brown eyes watching me.

"Hi?" I said, tilting my head in confusion.

"Is your phone charged so you can call your friend?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "they just aren't answering me. It goes straight to voicemail every time I try."

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, taking a step closer, his eyebrows crinkling together as the door shut behind him, the sound echoing in the entry of the arena. 

"Um," I said, checking my phone again, now hot from my hand "Almost an hour."

He stood there, staring at me for a minute, his jaw tensing. I felt my stomach drop, slowly sweeping my eyes across the staff in the arena, completely oblivious to the situation. Knots began to form, tension creeping up my neck at his expression.