Page 42 of Breaking Away

Third period startsand the glass in front of me rattles like chilled teeth. People slap their hands on it. I’m doing the same, but also drinking beer, forgetting about it whenever our team?—

Whoa. Not our team.Brain glitch.

Wheneverthe Wingsset up a play.

Which they can’t do now because the referee calls offside.

“That wasn’t offside,” I yell, shaking my fist. Someone behind me agrees. They raise their voice, joining mine.

Two fans both screaming in agreement.

Totally normal, and yet?—

If anyone could see me now, I’d be worried. Kavi Basra is loud. Misbehaving. Not acting very background-like. Good thing no one is around that I’ve got to blend in for. My parents don’t know I’m here and Tyler certainly doesn’t. I’m sure Dmitri doesn’t care about the shrieking of my voice either. I bet he’s forgotten I’m watching the game.

He races for the puck right now, by far one of the fastest players I’ve ever seen. When his blades send a spray of ice flying, my adrenaline soars. He’s got a blank look on his face, relieving the other team of the puck, slapping it to one of his forwards.

Laughter bubbles in my chest as I watch him dismantle their offense. He’s not even letting the other team pretend to be in control. Any momentum they pick up crashes on the cliffs of Dmitri’s brutal focus.

When Pink Headband (what I deem their captain Adrian Hughes to be in my head) scores, his victory lap is fun to watch, until it ends in front of me.

At first the attention makes me shrink, but then I see his vivid blue eyes are on the woman beside me. The one who slid into the seat a few minutes ago. The one reading a book at a hockey game.

“Sonya,” he calls out in a sing-song voice.

That must be her name.

Not that she’s paying him any attention. Eventually, Pink Headband shoots me a bashful smile that I can’t help but return. He doesn’t seem upset by her rejection, but is more used to it, I think.

When he skates off, I shake my head in awe.

Having the captain of a hockey team give you his full attention is like standing unprotected against the sun. Ask me, I know. Somewhat. Tyler’s full attention was rare, like he kept it away, so I would chase that first high I got when he asked me to be his girlfriend in front of the school.

Some part of me should miss it, but I haven’t thought about him at all during this game.Weird.Hockey and Tyler have always been linked. Now I’m cheering on another team so effortlessly.

Before I can wonder why, my eyes find Dmitri again. He’s—not got a very blank expression on his face anymore.

When our eyes meet, my inner muscles involuntarily clench.This… What is this feeling?

Too soon, the game continues. The other team fights hard for a three-on-two rush. The home fans cheer. I’m banging the glass, yelling, “Defense!”

The puck is lost in a scuffle. A hockey stick goes loose on the ice. Bodies fall, some on the Wings’ goalie.

Beside me, the woman abandons her book and stands. The color in her face has drained.

“Hey,” I can’t help but ask. “Are you okay?”

“He’s my brother. The goalie. Quinn.”

Thankfully, fast-acting referees clear the pile-up. Quinn is back up, braced and ready.

The woman sits back down. Her fingers reach for her book, but pull away at the last second. She faces me, distinctly readying herself for small-talk. I spot the signs because I do the same, but for her it’s a visible effort. As if the next few minutes will be dry-swallowing a pill.

Oddly, I’m reminded of a cat and water.

Her all-black outfit suits her. So does her hair color. If it came from a box labeled intense midnight, I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s dramatic against her light brown skin. Even with no obvious makeup on, she is stunning. Instead of a general tomboy, her fashion sense strikes me as goth-inspired athleisure. Hoodies, sweatpants, lace-up combat boots, kohl-lined eyes.

“Who do you know on the team?” she wonders in a monotone.

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