Page 19 of Face-Off with my Childhood Best Friend

Nadia: Yes and thanks. I’m waiting for you to show me what you can do.

I smile as I type another message.

Me: Is your grandfather still doing well?

Nadia: Yes. He’s great and organizing everyone again. Mom told me about your mom and dad—sorry.

I clear my throat and glance around the locker room. I’m surprised my parents splitting up is now common knowledge.

Coach strides up and down in front of us, letting us know how he wants us the play the game. When he turns his back, I type.

Me: It sucks. Speak to you after the game.

I throw my cell in my locker and pull my sweater over my armor as the rest of the team makes their way out of the room

“Keep it tight!” Coach yells after the players who are already out of the room. “Don’t let them break you down.”

While Coach talks about the game and how it should be played, my mind wonders to Dominic Logan, the famous actor, and I still can’t help but wonder how I never knew he and Nadia had dated for two years.

“Oscar!” Connor yells. “Come on.”

I make my way through the tunnel, glancing to the seats near to the front that I reserved for Nadia. When I see her, I rush to her and kiss her on the lips.

The audience goes wild, clapping and cheering, and I realize the kiss is frozen on the jumbotron.

“Wish me luck,” I say.

She smiles. “Do you need it?”

“Not on the ice,” I say. Our eyes lock for a moment. “But with you, I feel I need lots.”

“Good luck,” she answers. “Get on the ice. Show me what you can do.”

I laugh and minutes later; I skate onto the ice, the sound of my blades slicing through the ice.

The cold bites at my exposed skin as I make my way to the rest of my team and wait for the puck to drop. Adrenaline courses through my veins when it does, and before I know it, the game is in full swing.

I skate forward, flicking the puck to Connor. He slides away before he fires to Reynolds, who skates around the net and passes to Nate. Nate turns on the ice, like a graceful ice-dancer. He flicks his stick—it’s a goal.

The crowd goes wild.

As I skate backward, I catch a glimpse of Nadia. She’s wearing glasses with a dark rim and her hair is in a high ponytail, just like she used to when we were kids. She’s not only the perfect top model with flawless hair and makeup - she’s the girl I remember, my childhood best friend.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips when she grins. The mere sight of her makes my body to buzz. The extra energy zips through my veins as fast as my feet on the ice.

The spirit in the arena intensifies, and the crowd is noisy when the other side slams the puck into the net.

Coach screams when we’re back in play.

Players glide across the ice at lightning-fast speed. Others play dirty, knocking into each other with deafening force.

Sticks snap.

The crowd rumbles.

I skate fast as the puck passes through our team—I need to score.

I keep my eyes on the puck, sliding in and out players as I skate forward, positioning myself, ready to take the next pass.

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