Page 10

My first meeting with Richard was like a smack in the face—quite literally.

Patrick and I, both around fifteen-years-old, had just started training at Centre Ice. I was minding my own business, stretching out in the lobby, getting prepped for off-ice lifts, when a soccer ball smacked the side of my head, hard.

I didn’t even have to search for the culprits—they were laughing at me.

“Sorry!” a boy around my age sporting a mullet and a hockey windbreaker called out. I think his name was Kappy, or something like that—I only knew because Hans, the rink manager, was always yelling at him.

My face immediately flamed.

He held a fist to his mouth to cover his laughing.

The other two boys beside him didn’t do a thing to cover their own laughter.

Ugh. While the three of them were cute, they were total jerks.

They had absolutely no social or emotional awareness for others around them, and they were constantly being obnoxious in the lobby and weight room.

“Hans banned suey from the lobby, or did you forget?” I snapped. Picking up the soccer ball, I hurled it as hard as I could at his face. Only problem, throwing that hard tweaked my shoulders a little, making me release a strangled noise.

His friends immediately busted up laughing even harder.

“Assholes,” I grunted, feeling my face burn with embarrassment.

The boy called Kappy raked a hand through his mullet, making it stick up at odd angles. He blew out a breath. “I said I was sorry.”

I held my hurt shoulder and glared at him. “If you were sorry, then why were you laughing?”

His cheeks pinked up a little.

“Oh my God, Kappy was silenced!” his friend with a buzzcut yelled out.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” the other kid with curly brown hair said with a chuckle.

Rolling my eyes, I went back to my stretches, ignoring the way I could practically feel Kappy’s dark eyes lingering on me.

_________

At the end of the very long day of off-ice, then practice, then ballet, I gingerly made my way out to the lobby on sore legs.

Walking up to the windows, it was clear Gwen’s car wasn’t there.

Since my parents’ work required them to stay in New York City, Gwen was my “handler”, aka glorified babysitter, here in Michigan.

Inwardly fuming, I pulled out my flip phone to text her to hurry her ass up.

I needed to soak my muscles in a warm bath, like, yesterday.

“Hey.”

My neck snapped to the side to see him .

Hunched over a textbook on the rubber-covered metal picnic table, he pulled off his hood and raked a hand through his messy hair. “I am sorry I hit you earlier. I didn’t mean to.”

Steeling my spine, I turned toward him. “And?”

He set his pencil down and held his hands between his knees. “And I’m sorry we laughed about it.” His cheeks heated up again. Secretly, I found it endearing that this super outgoing boy had a little shyness inside of him. “Colt and JP, my friends, they’re gonna apologize to you, too.”

“It’s fine, they don’t need to.” My eyes dropped to the table. “Can I sit?”

He looked taken aback, like he was shocked that I asked, and he didn’t know how to answer.

Rolling my eyes, I plopped down in front of him. “Relax, it’s not a big deal. I’m not, like, hitting on you. My legs just hurt.”

He continued staring at me, gulping like a fish out of water.

I gestured to his math textbook. “Why are you still here?” Most of the rink had cleared out by now. Only old-timers were out on the ice for beer league.

He jerked a thumb to the concession stand where Teresa, the pretty dark-haired woman who ran the concession stand and rink restaurant, was wiping down the counters. “My mom’s closing up.”

My mouth gaped open. “Teresa’s your mom?

” I met her a couple months ago. After seeing me fighting tears while massaging my sore legs in the lobby, she handed me a bag of ice from the concession stand.

She was the only person in the rink who asked me if I was okay that day.

I had no clue she had a son, let alone this particular son.

“Yeah.” His dark eyes held a little suspicion as they darted over my face. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Why do you care?”

“Not sure.” He shrugged. “I just do.”

Resting my elbow on the table, I held my chin. “I’m always mad.” It was true. I think I was born with a chip on my shoulder that made me always strive to prove myself and win.

He snorted.

“What?” I shot back defensively. I was in no mood to be made fun of.

He smirked. “Me too.”

That had me pausing. For a second, we both openly studied each other. It felt like an understanding passed between us.

“So, truce?” He reached out for a handshake.

“Yeah, I guess.” I took his hand in mine. That first touch sent a shock through my system. I was touching a boy. A boy who was not Patrick. My eyes flashed up to his, curious if he felt it too, but his eyes were locked on our hands.

I quickly pulled my hand back and tucked it under my leg.

He rubbed his nose. “Why do your legs hurt? ”

The answer almost flew right out of me, which would’ve been so stupid. There’s no way I was about to spew out any of my secrets to anyone.

“Sorry, never mind,” he said quickly. “My name’s Richard, what’s yours?”

I arched a skeptical eyebrow. “I thought your name was Kappy?”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself that I knew his name.

I rolled my eyes. “Hans yells at you all the time. I’d have to be deaf not to know your name.”

He struggled to hide his grin. “The guys call me Kappy. You can call me Richard.”

Cocking my head to the side, I thought it over. “That’s fitting for you.”

The corners of his mouth curved up. “You think?”

“Yeah, you’re kind of a Dick.”

“Oof.” Laughing, he pulled back and held his chest like my words wounded him. “That hurt, Piper.”

I smirked. He just gave away that he already knew my name, too. “You can’t be too surprised at my very accurate assessment,” I said. “You literally make an old man chase after you and your buddies, and you guys laugh about it. It’s not very nice. What did Hans ever do to you?”

He laughed. “Nah, we’re just playing. The old man enjoys it.”

I shot him a look that said are-you-crazy?

He grinned. “Hans is our friend, he knows our pranks are all in good fun.”

“Um, you guys literally rigged it up to replace the buzzer with a fart sound.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “All the weekend games were delayed because it took Hans forever to figure out how to undo it.”

He threw his head back laughing, and I couldn’t help it, a smile tugged at my lips. He just had a way of laughing with his whole body that made it near impossible to keep a straight face. “God, that’s funny. But how do you know that was us, huh?”

“Your face, right now!” I pointed at him, struggling to keep my resolve.

“Ah, shit.” He chuckled while folding his hands behind his head. He leaned back a little to assess me. “Okay, I’ll take it. I might be a dick, sometimes .” He paused for a second in thought. “And you’re Piper the Viper. ”

My eyes narrowed. “Is that supposed to make me mad?”

“No.” He shrugged. “It’s just…true.” He twirled his pencil lazily in his hand. “You’re fierce, quick, ready to attack. You go straight for the throat.”

I hated to admit it, but a little part of my heart sank. Then again, what did I expect? I was the one who called him a dick, after all. Swallowing hard, I looked away. “Good to know we see each other for who we truly are.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed. He pulled his hood back up and bent over his textbook again. “Your eyes go with that, too.”

“What?” I questioned.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “When you’re mad, they kinda narrow to slits, like cat eyes.” He tilted his head to the side. “Do cats have green eyes?”

I blinked my very own green eyes at him, totally unimpressed. I wasn’t going to just sit here and let him insult me.

I started to get up, but then he said, “Those aren’t bad things.”

“Yeah, okay,” I dropped sarcastically.

“Seriously.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a second while he finished up a math equation in his notebook.

“Not many people have the balls to stand up for themselves the way you do, and not many people even know what they want. You’ve got it all figured out, Viper.

I like that about you.” He grinned, making dimples appear at the sides of his smile.

“And I like your eyes.” He immediately went back to his math homework.

My mind stuttered. He liked that about me… Did that mean…he liked me?

When he finally picked his head back up to stare at me, his eyes dipped to my lips.

My brain practically short-circuited. I had absolutely no experience with guys—besides Patrick, who didn’t count because he was basically my brother.

“Why are you staring?” I swallowed hard. “Are you gonna kiss me or something?” I snapped, then immediately felt stupid for sounding so harsh.

He licked his lips and slowly nodded. “I think so, but…” He threw his pencil down. “Not today.”

My heartbeat went a little erratic as I replayed his words in my head. “What?” My face cracked in confusion.

“Not our time yet.” He winked at me before dipping his head back over his math homework.

“What the hell are you—” I shook my head. “You can’t just—”

My phone went off, interrupting the rest of my sentence.

Gwen was here.

Without looking at him again, I stormed off.

But over the next few days, I replayed our conversation about a million times in my head, wondering if he was serious or just playing me.

That day started the pattern between us. Things went wrong—as they always would—then he’d always seek me out and face me to fix it.

‘Til I eventually broke the cycle and stopped letting him.

_________

That specific truce ended only a few weeks later in a truly embarrassing fashion.

I remember because I got my period for the very first time that morning, and my stomach had been in knots all day. I left the ice mid-session and hurried down the hallway to go to the bathroom.