Page 68 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)
Thirty Five
Darcy
T here’s something Peyton said in the cabin at Pineview that I’ll never forget.
I just don’t enjoy the anticipation of the sting.
It was such a throwaway line. Just a few words that slipped out of her in a moment of fear. But now, I can't stop thinking about it, because lately, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling too.
Every morning this cold February, I’ve woken up another day closer to the surgery. And to be completely honest, it terrifies me.
Thankfully, I've had a lot of distractions.
Physical therapy isn't nearly as bad as I had thought.
Thanks to my job, I get free PT through the university.
So three times a week I go to the big room across from Kaiser's office, and do various exercises and stretches with Dr. Ramirez.
Sometimes, she sends her assistant Aniyah—a junior in my chemistry class—with me to the indoor pool, and I get to swim.
I won't lie and say that swimming is comparable to being on the ice, but it's not terrible, and it does help. The wrist brace (which I've been playing off as a sprain) and increase in my medication have been helping too. My morning stiffness isn’t nearly as brutal as it was a month ago, and I’ve had a lot more energy. Which is a relief, because there’s been a lot going on.
Finals are coming up in two months, and even though I’m still not entirely sure what I want to do with my degree, I know that finishing it is important. I’ve started attending study sessions with Peyton and Cleo, which have moved to the library now that Zayda and Kai are joining in too.
Speaking of the library, when I’m not in PT, class, or coaching, I’m practically living there.
It's a haven. The mahogany shelves stretch toward the ceiling, lined with thousands of books, and sliding ladders that glide along the walls. Large arched windows look over the courtyard pond, and it always smells like coffee and nutmeg. It’s not all textbooks either.
As it turns out, the library has an impressive collection of queer literature.
The librarian, Robyn (a forty-year-old non-binary demisexual, who is loud in their belief that “the library is humanity’s prevailing resistance" has become my new favorite source for recommendations.
And of course, there’s the team. Since break ended, we’ve played ten season games.
We’ve won eight of them, and lost the other two.
The LNHLs kicked off this week, and we were the first team to notch two wins, which put us ahead and into the semifinals.
Next weekend, we’ll face the Cougars, while the Giants will go up against the Warhogs in the other bracket.
It’s single elimination now. If we lose, that’s it.
But if we win? We move on to the final round.
And if we win that ? We get an automatic bid to the NCAA championship.
It stings a little, knowing that if we do make it to the championship, I won’t be there to see it. Surgery's scheduled for the same week that they start. But if any team deserves to be on that ice, it’s this one.
I try to push the thought out of my head as I step through the door of Professor Palit’s class and into the hallway, Bailey trailing beside me. I hear the quick shuffle of her boots and the jingle of keychains bouncing against her bright pink Hello Kitty backpack.
"Is it just me, or is Palit like, four times hotte r with his beard grown out,” Bailey whispers, albeit loudly.
We get a few judgy glances from nearby students, but Bailey either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
She’s kind of… whimsical . Not just in a quirky, fairy way, but also like she is who she is, and whoever doesn’t like it can, kindly, fuck off. I think I kind of admire that.
“Strangely,” I say, remembering his clean-shaven face before winter break, “I agree.”
She boasts a perfect, Barbie-like grin. “It reminds me of Infinity War Captain America!” She presses the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to swoon. “He could be my Indiana Jones-slash-Steve Rogers.”
My laugh echoes off the forest green lockers. “I see that for him, actually.”
"Right? Hey, are you busy tonight?"
Caught off guard, my feet slow. I clear a tickle high in my chest, studying her face. "No," I answer hesitantly. "Why?"
“Well,” she starts, voice soft but picking up speed.
“I was going to ask again, but seriously, only if you want to. Tobias dropped out of our campaign. He said he needs to focus more on school.” She rolls her eyes and lets out a disgruntled huff.
“I mean I get it , but we’re in the middle of a disaster .
I’m scared it’s going to end in a TPK. We could really use another frontliner. ”
I stare at her, puzzled, until finally, it clicks.
“Your D&D campaign?” I ask.
She nods, a blush creeping over her alabaster cheeks. “Yeah,” she says, then rushes to explain. “I mean, a lot of people think it’s dumb or whatever, so if it’s not your thing, that’s totally okay.”
I shake my head. "I don't… really know how to play."
Bailey nods, disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Yeah. Right. No worries.”
“But,” I add, feathering a hand through my hair. “If you don’t mind a rookie, I’m all in. You said it’s Lord of the Rings themed, right?”
“Yes!” she squeals. Her arms fly out toward me, like she’s about to pull me into an aggressive hug, but she stops herself just shy of my body, letting them fall to her sides instead.
“You can pick your name, and species, and—it’s like you’re actually in the Fellowship.
Or not, if you want to do something else!
We're totally relaxed on the rules. Not like the group Jamison runs.”
I have no idea who Jamison is, or what the rules of their role-playing group might be, so I just flash her an awkward smile. As I do, my eyes catch on a small, rectangular object dangling from her backpack zipper. I narrow my gaze, realization flooding in.
“Is that a mini version of Pride and Prejudice ?” I gasp. At first, Bailey looks confused. But when she follows my line of vision over her shoulder, her eyes widen excitedly, and she spins around so that her back’s facing me, presenting the keychain.
“Isn’t it great?” she gushes. “I got it over at the romance bookstore on Blanchard. They have, like, a million different versions.”
My jaw literally drops. “You read romance books?” I ask.
Bailey spins back around to face me. “Uh, yeah !” she says, the “duh” implied. “Romance books are the only PR men have left.”
A laugh spills out of me, and I clasp a hand over my mouth to suppress the giggle. I think back to what Peyton said in the locker room that day. How she thought Bailey and I would get along great.
I’m starting to realize Peyton is right a lot more than I give her credit for.
We continue down the hallway, side by side. Now that Peyton’s on my mind, I don’t think I’m going to get her out of it. There’s no cure for Peyton Clarke. When she’s not around, my thoughts chase her. And when she is, they scatter.
“So,” I say, already knowing that this isn’t going to come off nearly as indifferent as I want it to. “Peyton isn’t part of the campaign by any chance, is she?”
Yeah, I could not have worded that worse.
Bailey’s eyes flick to me, knowingly, and a sly smirk tugs at the corners of her lips. “No,” she says, drawing out the word and flicking her tone up at the end. “She’s not into the whole role-play thing.”
She pauses, drawing her gaze from my feet to my head.
“In the game setting,” she clarifies, and heat floods my body at the implication. “Otherwise, no clue. You’d have to ask her.”
I don’t even know what to say. A strangle noise slips from the back of my throat, and I quickly snap my mouth shut.
“ Shit! Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she says, scrubbing a hand over her face. “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure she’d do anything for you. You’re like, one of her favorite people.”
A flustered half-laugh tumbles from my mouth, and I look away, inhaling slowly to soothe the flare in my cheeks. “Yeah, well,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You know. She says that about everyone.”
But Bailey shakes her head, her brows drawing together. “No,” she says slowly. “Not like this. Not like you. ”
My eyes flick up to meet hers, heart thudding mercilessly in my chest. She continues.
“Look, I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she says, wetting her lips. “But the only reason Peyton hasn’t said anything is because she thinks you’re like—” She stops, tilting her head. "What’s the word for celibate, but for like, relationships? Whatever that is.”
An awkward laugh slips out of me, and I clear my throat. “Um…”
Bailey’s eyes go wide.“Which is totally fine if you are!” she adds, almost frantically. “I mean, trust me , I’ve been there.”
I shouldn’t open up to Bailey. Even spending a whole season with the woman, I hardly know her. But that’s kind of how you make friends, isn’t it? You just decide one day to randomly trust this person with a piece of information and pray they don’t break your heart.
That takes a lot of faith. Something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. But in this moment, in this hallway that reeks of coffee and sweat, I feel it.
“I don’t really know what I am,” I admit. “Maybe just… slightly traumatized?”
Bailey huffs a laugh, pushing open the door to the courtyard. It’s a pretty dreary day. A cold one. The sun is hidden behind the clouds, and yet, it feels like it’s right in front of me.
“Make that two of us.” She smiles. "Are you ready for the semis?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."