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W hen Lotte tells a fib, she inhales deeply and her nostrils flare. I noticed it at the cafe, and then again, several times last night when she was trying to act all cool and nonchalant.

I wonder if she can pick out my falsities like I can hers?

Even if I wanted, if we wanted more, it has to stay that way.

I hope I managed to hide the disappointment I felt in speaking those words better than Lotte did on hearing them. The second I got to the rink, saw her lace up her skates and hobble onto the ice I knew I was in trouble … and what I had to do. The whole Florida thing is a convenient excuse, but it’s a genuine one, too.

I am leaving.

Nothing can happen between us.

But … when we got back to her place, I asked if I could take her skating again on the weekend, as friends of course. It was a stupid idea, but I just had to see that pretty face smile again, even if it only lasted a minute before she jumped out of my truck and ran inside.

Skating on the weekend turned into the next day, then the next and the next, and now we’ve been to Green Line Ice every day for a week. Her skating improves with each visit to the point where she’s almost as fast as me. She’s definitely nimbler.

Sexier, too.

She’s … incredible.

“I don’t know why, but I feel calmer when I’m with you, Noah,” she said last night when I walked her to her door. “Like, you didn’t laugh at me when I told you I still watch My Little Pony or make fun of me because I wear fluffy earmuffs when I skate, and you don’t freak out about my tics, or make out like it’s the most fascinating thing about me. I’m just … me. I’ve never been able to be just me with anybody before.”

Ignoring the urge to bend down and claim those soft pouty lips almost drove me insane. No one had ever made me hard through conversation.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I told her we would only be friends. I know I’m probably confusing her, but I can’t stay away. Every second spent in her company further solidifies my belief, Lotte West is not a plaything. She’s a forever thing.

The type of girl you could never leave behind.

Or not have really dirty, really hot dreams about sleeping with the cardigan she left in my truck beneath my pillow.

I’m half asleep, yet fully aware my dick is hard as stone, while dreaming of her blonde hair in braids, pastel pink leg warmers, white skates, and fucking fluffy pink earmuffs. Rolling onto my side I breathe in her scent and my aching dick pulses. This girl is fucking with my head.

I spit into my palm, slip my hand into my boxers then begin to stroke, letting out a moan as my balls tighten just picturing her lying beside me, her lips replacing my hand. I grip and stroke harder then come so hard and fast I can hardly catch my breath as I drift back off to sleep.

Suddenly, I’m gasping for air again but in a very different way, because I’m pinned down, someone is holding a pillow over my face, and after a brief and frightening wrestle, I discover the assailant.

“Kel. What the fuck?” My duvet is nowhere to be found for my hands shoot out to cover my groin, as I scrunch back against the headboard.

“Sorry, Noah, I—”

Kelly is promptly shoved out of the way and exactly who I expected, my sister, appears. “I made her do it because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself till you punk ass body stopped twitching. I just got off the phone with Lotte.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“That’s right. Oh shit. She called to ask If I wanted a coffee, because she’s a good and decent human being, and then she accidentally let slip a little story … I cannot believe you’ve been taking her skating. I told you hands off.”

I jump straight into defense. “One I didn’t take her skating. I followed the train that took her to skating, then I skated with her, then drove her home, and then did it every day this week. Big difference.”

“Really? I fail to see much of a distinction. In fact, it sounds worse.”

“And two,” I say, ignoring her valid point, “I didn’t touch her. I mean we held hands a bit. And I may have accidentally touched her bum … and one boob, but then I told her we had to stay friends—”

“Noah!!! You felt her up then friend-zoned her?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you that bit? I mean, no I didn’t. I mean I did but it was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally touch not only booty, but booby?”

“Well, I was laying on top of her and—”

Possibly saving my life, Kelly lunges and holds Claire back. “Noah, I want you to live, it’s your turn to cook tonight, so I suggest that you leave.” Thankfully, my sister hovering over me has been enough to take care of the little issue inside my shorts, leaving me to leap to my feet, almost breaking my neck on my missing duvet in the process. “Thanks, Kel. I owe you one.” I laugh, as I swipe a pair of sweats and my backpack as I go.

“No you don’t,” Claire yells, “After I sterilize my eyes, we’re totally going to have sex in your bed.”

I have my evening routine down to a fine art. I get home from training, or drinks out with the team, eat. Shower. Pack my bag for the next day. Eat again then study, watch TV or just shove my hands down my pants and chill for a bit. All this means emergency exits like this morning’s, particularly when I have hot girls in skating outfits on my mind, are a walk in the park. Yes, it also means I’m often a stinky and bed-heady mess when I arrive at training at the ass-crack of dawn, but most of the team are the same, and I’m only going to end up like that anyway, so.

“Hey, Boy Wonder.” A nickname, and voice I wish I could ignore calls the second I enter the locker room. “I know why you weren’t crying over Shane snatching that hottie from right under your nose last week.” Oh, that’s the other thing my routine helps with. Getting enough sleep means I’m less grumpy, and don’t knock out dickheads like Ryan Donnelly so easily. He’s the type of guy that makes everything about himself. Even if we have a win, all Ryan cares about is how many goals were fed to him.

“Yeah, why is that, Ryan?”

“I saw you dropping a blonde, wearing your team hoodie and nothing much else off at her apartment last night. Granted it was my Nan’s old folks’ home, but still. Good for you, man. Cougars are the bomb.”

The guys I like to call the moron brigade, Ryan, Luke Chen, and Paul Osam, all high five and laugh like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

“They are and thanks for being so cool about it. Moving on was a tough call, but your mom was getting too clingy. It was time for an upgrade.”

It takes three guys to hold him back, and I wish I could have enjoyed his rage more than I am, because a voice clears behind me and yes, it’s once again one I wish I could ignore.

“Mamma jokes at eight am, Petterson. Really?”

“Sorry Coach. He just made it so easy.” He cracks a grin despite himself then motions with his shiny cranium back to the ice. “Get your ass out there, ladies. This week it’s our first game for the year. Times a- ticking.”

Ryan’s stink eyes remain on me the whole first half of practice. We’ve been in four-man drills with Coach the whole time, so he’s been on his best behavior, but I know he’s busting to let loose.

When Harris, who seems to be testing me, breaks us into two’s for sprint drills and pairs us up, he gets his chance. I easily ignore every cheap chirp about my game. I have too. He’s the type of guy who’s capable of bringing the whole team down with his shitty attitude, and as the captain, I can’t let that happen. But when he sees he’s not getting to me, like at all, he switches to Lotte.

“I know who you dropped off, Petterson. The oldies call her Charlotte. They say she’s a bit of a freak.”

“Did you know your freak is basically a cleaning lady?”

“My Gran said she was over last week and cleaned her cobwebs for her. Is that what you did when you got her upstairs, Noah? You cleaned her cobwebs out?”

I have him by the throat against the boards before I can blink. “If I hear your trash mouth say her name ever again, I will end you Donnelly.” I manage to land a nice, discrete little jab to his jaw before I’m pulled off of him, and damn it, Coach is doing the pulling.

“That’s it. I’ve had enough of you dipshits for one day. Hit the showers.” Tossing the useless bag of shit to the side, I spin, and begin to argue, but I see his face and no this is not the time. “Yes, Coach,” I slink away, and feel a tug on my jersey.

“Come and see me in my office once you’ve washed that attitude away.”

Knowing I’ve let him down; I drop my head. “Yes, Coach.”

It’s humiliating, but one of the assistant coaches Dale Fink, the one with the baker wife, stands guard between Donnelly and I as we exit the rink, shower, dry off and dress. Anytime one of us so much as looks at the other, we get an immediate, “Don’t even think about it, douche.” The tension between us is palpable and not the fun, I want to rip your clothes off type, I felt last night with Lotte. Dale even escorts me to Harris’s office.

The admin space is on the opposite side of the rink to the locker room. Coach said it’s to protect staff from the smell, but I have a theory and I’m ninety percent sure it’s been designed for a specific purpose. Sulking past the equipment managers, the PR team, the entire lineup of assistant coaches when they all know where you’re walking into, is a true walk of shame. As I do mine, I try to think of something, anything other than the new asshole I’m about to be wearing, but nothing, not even Lotte’s big smile when I asked her to come skating with me again sometime, can redirect my concerns.

The door is open when we arrive, but Dale is quick to shove me in and slam it shut. Coach Harris - five playing and coaching Frozen Four champ that’s well into his forties, has lost most of his hair, but none of his bulk or ability to intimidate - is waiting for me in his leather recliner. Bent elbows are on the desk. His face resting on his hands.

Intimidating.

“Take a seat, Petterson.” I drop into my chair like a bunny would to her knees and hold my breath … again like a bunny. “You’ve met my daughter, Quinn?”

Oh, that is not what I expected.

“I have sir, yes. She seems like a lovely young woman. You should be very proud.”

“I am, and she is, and don’t you ever think about touching her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir … I mean, not that she’s not touchable, she’s very touch … I mean. Um.” I’m rambling and can’t seem to stop.

“For Christ’s sake shut up. I wasn’t asking you to rate her attractiveness, I was just asking if you knew her, because she, like everyone else around here knows you. And the friend of yours that Donnelly was chirping to you about.”

“Oh, you—”

“Yes, I heard that, and as much I will sit here and condemn your response, especially as team captain, I can’t say I blame you for it either. My sister, Emme, has epilepsy. Some of her seizures look like tics, and if I heard anyone talk about her like that, well …”

I nod in understanding, but still, this is unexpected. “Honestly, I probably would have done worse, but still. Tackling a teammate like that can never happen again. Imagine if someone from Tampa had been here to see that. You think toxic shit like that is going to secure your future? You’re too good, Kid. You have to maintain focus on the game.”

Even though he is right, I begin to argue, but he runs his fingers across his lips in the classic, zip-it. “Having said that, I’m benching Donnelly this weekend.”

“What? No!” I jump to my feet and lean on his mahogany desk. “Coach, please. It’s our first game. Don’t do that on my account, I can handle him.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not on your account, it’s called being a responsible leader. One who turns out skilled players, but also empathetic and responsible citizens.” He leans back in his chair, and rocks, never taking his eyes from me. “Quinn told me what that jackassProfessor Carole did to your friend Charlotte, and I cannot, and will not tolerate similar attitudes among my players. Targeted slurs against teammate’s friends and families, or anyone for that matter, with medical, mental health conditions or disabilities will not be condoned and will certainly not be rewarded with ice time.” He rises and walks around his desk, then sits on its edge beside me. “Now, I’m telling you about Donnelly’s punishment before I tell him because, as captain, I need you to step up and make sure you role model this behavior more than anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

Never have I been prouder to be a BC Bear. “Yes, Coach.”

“Good. And don’t forget, if we have to have this discussion again it will be you riding the benches. Now get the hell out of here.”

I leave, kind of relieved but also … Donnelly and his crew aren’t going to take this well. I can’t help but worry that somehow this is going to come back to bite Lotte, and me, in the ass. Maybe I should go see if she’s at that coffee shop. Just to check in and make sure she’s okay, not because I need to see her or anything. No.

Brady is waiting for me in the hall, and we head off to our first classes for the day. I’ve already got too much on my mind to pay much attention to what he says and then remember there’s something else I need to worry about. Pretending to listen, I nod along and fire off a text to my sister.

Claire Bear, did you really have sex in my bed? Cause….

Claire Bear

Of course we didn’t Noah!!!! WTF is wrong with you?