Page 50 of Fake Skating

“Al, wake up,” Ashton said, and I could feel her scrambling onto my bed.

“Yeah, Al, wake up,” I heard Cole say, giggling, and then they both started jumping on the bed.

“Knock it off, you guys,” I grumbled into my pillow, slowly rolling over and opening my eyes.

Too bright.

It’d been impossible to sleep last night—I was still awake at three, staring at the ceiling and running through plays in my head—so this early wake-up call was very unwelcome.

But then I heard her laugh.

I looked at the doorway and Dani was standing beside my mom and Hannah, grinning like the sight of me struggling with my siblings was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

“Why are you here when it’s still sleeping time?” I asked, pathetically happy to see her. “Do you want to get hit in the face by a pillow? Do you want to get dumped by the very sexy captain of the Southview Packers? Do you want to see me cry, Collins, do you?”

“Do I want you to stop asking questions? Um, yes ,” she said, making our moms laugh even harder. “We brought you some food, so get your butt out of bed and come downstairs.”

“She said ‘butt,’?” Ash said with a snort.

“She said ‘butt,’?” Cole repeated, giggling.

I groaned because I didn’t want to be up yet.

“I don’t like people jumping on the bed, and I don’t like breakfast—you know this, Dan ,” I grumbled.

I’d never liked breakfast. Aside from a random donut now and again, I didn’t get hungry until I’d been up for a couple hours.

“We went to Kriz’s, you whiner,” she said, “and got you two chocolate crullers. So it’s not breakfast; it’s donuts.”

Okay—huge difference.

“Yeah, you whiner,” Ash laughed.

“Whiner,” Cole repeated, giggling.

“Now get your butt downstairs before I eat your food,” Dani said, and after the twins said the word “butt” like five more times, it was quiet in the doorway.

I got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, deep breathing as I thought through the day.

I choked down a few ibuprofen, unzipped the hoodie I’d started sleeping in so I didn’t have to raise my arms in the morning when that shoulder was too stiff to move, and took a quick shower before heading downstairs.

But almost as if she knew the day was going to be a struggle for me, Dani was sitting at the table with everyone in my family—and her mom—when I walked in the kitchen.

“It’s about time, Al ,” she said sarcastically, because she’d always thought it was funny that they called me that.

She’d said it sounded like they were talking to a fifty-year-old shoe salesman.

“I didn’t know there was a specific time I needed to get up on game day,” I said.

“Well, if you’re going to eat these donuts for breakfast, you need time for the sugar crash and then to pump yourself back up again.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I really do,” she said with a grin.

A grin that made me think not today .

I was growing way too attached to this relationship, and there was zero doubt that it was real to me.

It was.

But she’d always been it for me.

The standard.

I hadn’t realized it then, but she’d been laying the groundwork during every one of those summers we’d spent together, setting the precedent for what my type was.

Dani Collins—that was my type.

Period.

I just hoped I was her type.

But now was not the time to be thinking about the what-the-fucks of my love life.

There was nothing more important than winning tonight.

That needed to be my only focus.

Dani and her mom left before I’d even finished my first donut, and after that I went down to the basement and started watching game film, losing myself in footage of Edina’s team.

I watched for hours, familiarizing myself with the players I was already familiar with, watching their habits and seeing their vulnerabilities.

And when it was finally time to go to the Doug for warm-ups, I felt ready.

Bring. It. On.