Breaking The Ice [bxb]

Chapter Twenty-Seven (pt. 1) [Liam]

WARNING: This chapter contains discussions of mental health.

It's the last Saturday of spring break week.

Trey Coleman, Brunson High's most infamous left-winger, led a small group of current and former hockey players — the latter back home for the break — in organizing a get-together at the recreational center. The kind of get-together that involves alcohol, drunk hook-ups and the possible occasional boose-related injury.

I did my mandatory showing, like seemingly everyone else under twenty-three in the Brunson-Lake City area. That includes some of the guys from the Olympic ski team who, though they don't always show up, are always a hit when they do.

The second the hockey guys started pouring in, though, I told my friends I needed to get my phone charger and bailed. Presently, I am hiding in my room over The Lodge. Like the coward I am.

It's been over a week since I confronted Eli and I've avoided him since. It hasn't been as hard as I imagined it would be. Especially since school paused. Mostly, I stayed away from The Lodge and the Ice Arenas during off-practice hours. I have yet to see him for possibly seven days.

Seven days in which he never texted or tried to reach out in any way.

It's pathetic and frustrating that I know a part of me expected — or rather wished — he would have at least tried. Even if it was just for a half-assed attempt at a booty call. 

Like I said. Pathetic.

It's kind of on me. It was all supposed to be a merely physical thing between us. That's how it started, I think. I don't even know when I started letting my guard down. I guess I was arrogant. I thought I was so good at keeping things separate, and that I'd never fall for a guy like Eli Blake.

When did it all went to shit? When did I start catching feelings? When did I decide emotionally constipated, short-worded jocks were my sore spot?

I'm starting to think it can't have been on that last night we spent together. I was in too deep by then already. It wouldn't have affected me the way it did if I hadn't already... attached.

It creeped in silently and inconspicuously. The way my mom always said it would whenever I started to care for someone for the first time. Why is that woman always right?

There's a knock on my door.

I'm frozen in place for a second, transported back to a night seemingly a lifetime ago, back when a lot of things were much simpler.

It's not him.

I will open the door and it will be Mack, drunk and lost, wanting to drag me back to the recreational center, with or without phone charger. Or I will open the door and it will be Gus, fully intoxicated on the excitement of the party more than the boose, prattling about this and that boy. I will open the door and it will be Chloe, wanting to hide out here with me, possibly watching a TV show together in complicit silence. I will open the door and it will be Nat, worried I have been gone for so long, asking if I need help with anything.

Except I haven't moved yet, and now there's a second knock.

I stand up from my bed and move to the door.

It's not him.

Except I open the door and it's Eli Blake.

There's a protest on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn't come out. I take a look at Eli's state. He has his arm on the door frame, supporting the weight of an unsteady body. He's wearing a steel-gray button-down over dark jeans. The color enhances the darkened shades of silver in his eyes. The maroon beanie tilted on his head brings out the blushing tinge on his cheeks.