Chapter 2 Ice god vs. invisible girl
Casey POV
I should not be here while they are still practicing that thought hits me the second I hear the scrape of skates across ice. The rink is colder than outside and the air feels heavy with the smell of sweat and metal. I push the mop bucket toward the entrance hoping they are finishing up.
They are not the Northbridge Knights are in the middle of drills bodies move fast across the ice, sticks clashing, pucks snapping against the boards. It is aggressive and controlled at the same time and then there is Chris he moves differently from the others hen he skates, the drill shifts around him. When he accelerates, everyone else reacts. He cuts through defenders like they are practice cones and sends the puck into the net with a shot that echoes through the arena the goalie swears under his breath.
Coach Bennett nods once from the sidelines. “Again,” Coach calls out.
Chris does not argue he resets immediately he looks untouchable out there like he was built for this I tell myself to focus on my job I drag the mop across the rubber floor near the boards keeping my head down if I stay near the edges no one will care.
Twenty minutes later Coach finally dismisses them the team skates off the ice laughing, bumping shoulders and already talking about parties.
“Captain, you coming tonight?” someone calls.
“Not sure,” Chris answers evenly. They disappear through the doors one by one and I relax then I hear another shot.
I look up and notice Chris is still on the ice alone his helmet off now, hair damp and his shirt clinging to his shoulders he retrieves the puck, resets and shoots again.
He is not showing off he is burning something out I should not be staring but I am. He shoots again and this time his gaze lifts between movements it lands directly on me there is no confusion in his expression and no hesitation. He knows exactly who I am.
I feel it in the way his eyes narrow slightly like he is remembering our conversation from yesterday I turn away too slowly and he skates toward the boards where I am standing each push of his blades sounds louder than it should. He stops in front of me resting his gloves on the barrier between us. “You are back,” he says.
It is not a question. “I work here.” His eyes flick briefly to the mop bucket and back to my face.
“Didn’t think the Roosevelts needed the extra cash.”
“They don’t.”
A small shift in his expression tells me he hears what I am not saying he leans slightly closer to the boards. “You shouldn’t be this close when we are practicing,” he says. “Pucks can jump.”
“I stay out of the way.”
“That is not what I meant.”
The words sit heavier than they should I do not respond he studies me again slower this time. “You look tired,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
“That is what you said yesterday.”
I hate that he remembers. “I am fine.”
His jaw tightens slightly but he does not argue instead he taps the puck with his stick and sends it sliding toward me it bumps against the boards near my feet. “Pass it back,” he says.
I bend down and pick it up carefully the ice reflects the overhead lights in sharp streaks when I toss it over the boards he catches it without looking his eyes never leave mine. “Why are you really working here?” he asks quietly.
The question makes my chest tighten. “Why do you really stay after practice?” I counter before I can stop myself.
His mouth shifts slightly not quite a smile. “Fair.” For a second it feels like the rink is too quiet like this moment exists separately from everything else. He pushes off from the boards and skates backward a few feet still facing me and he shoots again.
Goal.
He does not celebrate he looks at me instead. “Rebecca didn’t mention you had a job,” he says.
“I doubt she would.” That earns a real reaction from him not laughter but something close.
“You two don’t get along.”
“That’s obvious.”
His eyes drop briefly to my arm where my sleeve rides up just enough to expose faint discoloration his expression hardens I pull the fabric down quickly.
“Don’t,” he says.
My stomach drops. “Don’t what?”
“Pretend I didn’t see that.”
“It’s nothing.”
He grips the top of the boards tighter. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
The arena doors slam open before I can answer the sound echoes sharply. “Chris!”
Rebecca’s voice carries across the rink like she rehearsed it I step back automatically. She walks in wearing heels that do not belong anywhere near ice her coat is perfectly fitted and two girls trail behind her whispering. Her eyes find me instantly then him and then the space between us.
Her smile tightens. “I’ve been looking for you,” she says sweetly.
He does not move from where he stands on the ice. “I was finishing drills.”
Rebecca steps closer to the boards her gaze sliding over me slowly. “Clearly.”
I feel the weight of her stare like a warning she leans over the barrier slightly. “What are you doing out here?” she asks me.
“I’m working.”
She laughs softly. “That’s adorable.”
Chris’s shoulders tense Rebecca straightens and steps closer to him when he skates to the edge of the rink the second he reaches the boards she slides her arms around his waist like she is claiming territory. “Ready to go?” she asks.
He does not answer immediately his eyes shift back to me Rebecca feels it her grip tightens possessively. “Chris,” she says again but sharper this time.
He steps off the ice slowly Rebecca moves closer to him pressing against his side deliberately. “You shouldn’t be talking to her,” she says lightly but the threat underneath is clear.
He looks down at her. “Why?”
The question lands harder than it should Rebecca blinks once, clearly not expecting that. “She works here,” Rebecca replies smoothly. “It’s awkward.”
“I don’t feel awkward.”
Her smile flickers I wish I were invisible again Rebecca turns to me her expression cool and controlled. “You should focus on your job,” she says softly. “Before you lose it.”
I know that tone I know what it means. Chris looks between us again, tension building in his jaw. Rebecca leans up and kisses him not subtle.
Her eyes remain open the entire time locked on me when she pulls back, she keeps one hand on his chest. “Come on,” she says. “We have dinner plans.”
He hesitates it is small but it is there and Rebecca notices her fingers dig slightly into his shirt. “Chris.”
He looks at me one last time like he is making a choice the air in the rink feels charged then he turns and walks with her toward the exit the doors slam shut behind them and the echo lingers.
I stand there gripping the mop handle tighter than necessary working here was supposed to keep me invisible but instead I just stood on the edge of the ice while Rebecca wrapped herself around him like a warning and he still looked at me not at her at me Rebecca saw it and if there is one thing I know about Rebecca Roosevelt, it is this she does not compete she destroys.
