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But I was still looking at her, trying to study her closer, when he pushed me squarely in the chest with some kinda weird karate move. And here's the thing– if I had maybe one more week on these crutches, I could’ve probably stood my ground and beat his ass. But I was a beginner on these bad boys. So instead, I fell backwards and I did all I could to keep my right foot from hitting the ground, which resulted in me smacking the back of my head against the stupid lobby floor.
Twerpy douche laughed as he stepped over me, and I could feel the heat rise in my face over the embarrassment of the situation. This was just another tally in the column of things that really sucked lately. I’d never lost a fight before, and I wasknownfor throwing huge hits. Now here I was getting tossed on my ass by a figure skater. I mean, no offense to figure skaters, but they didn’t have the same experience with fighting as us hockey players.
I closed my eyes for a second and rested my body. Muscles I didn’t even know I had were aching from crutching around all day and the back of my head was now painfully throbbing. Falling down was definitely not on the list of approved concussion protocol activities.
When I opened my eyes again,herface filled up my entire vision…
But… no…mygirl had golden blonde, kinda curly hair…
Awesome, I thought sarcastically, I was fucking hallucinating her face on this random chick.
She leaned closer and her hazel eyes squinted as she studied me. She always had the most unique, hazel eyes; they were serious eyes, even as a kid. The lobby lights outlined her face like she was an angel. If only she didn’t have dark hair, she would’ve lookedjustlike her. She had that same little notch in her delicate nose that indicated she’d broken it back when we were young…
And ya know what– it wasmyhallucination after all– so I reached up and put my hands around her face to block her hair more… just to check…
“Oh my God! Itisyou!” I felt myself whisper in awe.
A split-second later, she slapped my hands away real quick. It took me a second to realize that those were real slaps and that I wasn’t hallucinating.
Shewas one and the same with the lobby girl practicing lifts.
I was face-to-face with my childhood archnemesis: Claire Kessel.
I sat up straight and quickly regretted it. I fought off a wave of dizziness while I tried to study her closer. I was still in complete shock that we were sitting here in front of each other after all these years.
My eyes quickly drifted over her body. She was still so delicately strong and beautiful. She was much smaller than me– which was an excellent thing because she’d be way too powerful of a person if she weren’t. Height was practically the only race she lost to me in as a kid. While I shot up to 6’2 in high school, God knew what he was doing when he kept her at the 5’1 height she had reached in middle school. She was also still incredibly ripped– most girls who skated pairs were much stronger than the girls who skated individually. Pairs girls had to be able to practically lift their own weight and land throw jumps that came down with a shit load of force. I could practically see all the muscles in her arms and legs. I bet she could still beat me at off-ice bodyweight workouts just like she always had. It used to piss me the hell off when she won because she’d gloat like crazy. She was a sore winner. Always.
She’d grown up to be even more beautiful than I imagined though. It was just her hair that was different, and it kind of pained me to see that she changed it. She used to look just like the Coach’s daughter in “Remember the Titans,” which was actually one of her favorite movies growing up– so it secretly became mine as well. I used to love pulling her ponytail or braid just to get her attention. Practically every action I took in school and here at the rink had something to do with Claire.
“You changed your pretty hair,” I forced my dry mouth to swallow. “Why?”
She shrunk back like I just insulted her. “So what is it now? Ugly?”
I felt my face immediately heat up. How did she jump to me calling her hair ugly? I sputtered for a second before answering, “I said your hair was pretty before, that doesn't mean I said it looks ugly now.”
She looked back at me with a smirk on her face and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She just wanted to make me squirm uncomfortably.
“Well, um,” I cleared my throat. “It’s nice to see you,” I finally said.
She flinched, like hearing those words hurt her. “Wish I could say the same to you,” she said simply.
I sat there blinking in confusion.
She moved with no hesitation then. She reached down to grab my crutches, and my slow brain was thinking maybe I’d gotten her words wrong; maybe she had actually said something nice and was trying to help me up.
But nope.
She wasn’t helping me.
She was walking away with my crutches and leaving me there on the fucking floor completely stranded… She looked hot as hell walking away, but still…
I felt my forehead scrunch in disbelief over her immaturity. “Wow, kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?!”
“You’re not welcome here, Duke!” she called over her shoulder as she continued walking away, swishing her little hips.
And that just made me mad.
This was my home rink too. Growing up, I had spent just as many hours here as she did.
