Page 16 of Falling

I’ve not been able to get her out of my head, and watching her skate in circles is exactly like how she's been running through my mind since that date. It almost feels unreal the way she managed to grab my attention so quickly. I feel greedy when it comes to her already, and I’ve never felt like that about anyone before. She feels like this special secret that has been hiding in plain sight this whole time.

Before I met her, hockey was my only focus. It was the thing that got me up in the morning and occupied my thoughts when I was in class. I’ve been dreaming about making the pro team since I was a kid, and nothing has ever gotten in my way before. Especially now, in my second year at NU, I’m already falling behind by being too caught up in my head and too fucking anxious to make it onto the ice without suffocating. I promised myself, Carter, and Coach Tucker that I’d get my head in the game, but I think that flew out of the window the second I met Wren Hackerly. She’s like a magnet, and she doesn’t even know it.

I stand at the edge of the rink, completely and utterly captivated, watching her glide and turn. She speeds up her pace, doing some complicated as fuck spin before she lands hard on the ice, curling her small hands into fists. Everything she’s doing looks perfect to me, each movement sharp and charged with an intensity that I can’t take my eyes away from.

She’s wearing black leggings and a gray NU sweatshirt with “North Sports Department” written on the back that is a few sizes too big for her. A weird pang of jealousy curses through me, and I wonder if her ex gave it to her.

I might have reduced myself to a bit of internet stalking after our date. She’s not really mentioned her ex-boyfriend, Augustus, who was also her skating partner. Especially after what he did to her, I wouldn’t be surprised.

She must know I’m here because it's empty and I know herpractice doesn’t start for another ten minutes. She’s like me in that way. I always used to drag Xavier and Carter to the rink an hour and a half early to get some drills in before our morning skate. It always paid off in the end, and that kind of mindset is so fucking attractive on a girl.

Wren comes to a stop, her chest heaving as her eyes connect with mine across the rink. She’s still standing in the middle of the ice when I call out, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Avoiding you?” she echoes, her voice strong like she hasn’t been skating around for God knows how long. She glides toward where I stand on the outside of the rink, leaning on the barriers. “I have classes to go to, Miles, and practice four times a week. Just because you’re benched, doesn’t mean everyone else's lives are on hold too.”

Harsh but true. “Are you sure? I was pretty sure that’s how it worked.” It’s clearly too early for my bullshit because she just rolls her eyes at me, crossing her arms against her chest. “How’s skating going? Your mom still on your ass about the team?”

Her eyes flash with surprise. “You remembered I told you that.”

I shrug. “Let’s not make it into a big thing. You’re the one that remembered I was benched.”

“It’s quite literally the first thing you text me when you wake up,” she argues, deepening her voice to sound like more as she adds, “Morning, Wrenny, how’s your day going? Oh, mine’s great, thanks for asking. I’m still benched, and it sucks, but it’s all good! Double thumbs up.”

“I do not do a double thumbs up, and that is not how our conversations go,” I say, trying not to laugh at her very off depiction of my voice. She gives me a bored look. “We have some very productive chats.”

She sighs. “Miles, I don’t even respond most of the time. It’s like you’re talking to yourself.”

“You’re making me sound like I’m crazy.”

“Youarecrazy,” she says, failing to contain her laughter. “And no, I’m still workshopping ideas with Kennedy and Scarlett.”

“Any ideas taking the lead?”

Wren sighs, pushing her braid over her shoulder. “Kennedy thinks I should start an OnlyFans and see if that draws some attention to me. Scarlett thinks I should lead a peaceful protest even though I’m not too sure what we’re protesting for.”

“I like Kennedy’s plan better,” I answer immediately. Her eyes widen in shock because she definitely did not ask for my opinion. “I will literally get on my knees and beg you to do it.”

She grins. “I’m more than happy to see you begging on your knees, but I’m not doing shit.”

“Fine, I can settle for a private lap dance. It stays between us two, and no one has to know,” I suggest.

She opens her mouth, ready to say something, but something stops her, and she pauses, looking me up and down. I’m wearing a similar hoodie to hers but mine is dark blue—the school colors—and says “North Sports Department” on the back.

Wren sighs, shaking her head. “Tell you what I’ve just realized?”

“What?”

“You’re the stupidest person I’ve ever met in my life.” I groan. All that lead-up for nothing. I’m pretty confident bullying is her love language, and I’m sure I can get behind it. “How about you? How's your problem going?”

“It’s… going,” I say, “Coach isn’t letting me back on the ice until I’ve cleaned up my act enough, and I have to go to these fucking meetings where we have to talk about our feelings.”

I shudder, and her eyebrows crease. “You mean… class?”

“Worse.”

“Oh, gee, what could possibly be worse than going to class to get a degree?”

“Group therapy,” I say bluntly.

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