Page 12 of The Spice Play

I didn’t hear the reply that fed straight into his earpiece, but his mouth turned into a hard, flat line as he stared at me. “You’re not on the list.”

“Can you just askthem to ask if any of the players are expecting me?” I asked, flashing him the nicest smile I could muster since nothing else seemed to be working. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to interrupt, but…”

The security guard sighed exasperatedly as he raised his walkie-talkie back to his mouth, his fingers tweaking the line to radio what I could only assume was a different frequency. “Casey, can you ask the guys if any of them invited someone to practice without clearing it first?”

I couldhearthe words shouted inside those doors, and despite how muffled they were, they were loud enough to make them out.

“Which one of you didn’t clear a visitoragain?”

The security guard pressed the button to speak again. “Her name is Nelly…”

I wasn’t sure why he was cut off, but a few seconds later, he moved out of the way, motioning soundlessly for the door.

I took that as my invitation.

I pushed open the heavy door, the temperature inside dropping dramatically from the rest of the Arena. I was coming in at ground level, so although I couldn’t see much of the actual ice, I could see about ten men in helmets zooming across the ice in different directions and one older man in the center with a whistle between his teeth.

“Blue, one more set before you leave the ice,” he barked.

I walked my way to the stands as a handful of guys stepped off the ice, pausing at the gate to pop some kind of rubber on the bottom of the skates before walking across the floor expertly on a single blade. Just the ability to balance on them was insane on its own.

One of the few men still on the ice, covered headto toe in black workout attire and a helmet on his head, spat out his mouth guard. “For fuck’s sake, coach…”

The guy’s blue helmet turned in my direction, and I froze halfway down into a seat.

Even across the ice, the familiarity hit me, knocking the wind from my lungs.Shit. No, no, no, no?—

“One more set,” the coach said again. “Ten more laps of forward cross-overs, and you can get off the ice.”

But that blue helmet stayed locked in my direction.

What felt like minutes but was likely only seconds later, Sebastian cursed something under his breath and spun away from me, taking up position on one side of the rink and setting off. His skates crossed over the other, over and over, kicking up shredded ice every time he changed direction. From where I sat, it looked clean, but the man with the whistle kept shouting words I didn’t understand at him as the pit in my stomach sank lower and lower.

I could onlyhopethat whoever I was meeting would approach me before Sebastian got off the ice.

“Your fucking edges, Blue!” the coach yelled. “Lean harder, let the momentum carry you!”

He went around.

And around.

And around.

Over and over, the maneuver looked the same in my eyes, but the coach's shouts became less frequent and less aggressive, so I could only imagine there was some form of improvement.

Over and over, I waited patiently, trying not to look like I was obviously staring at the man on the ice.

Over and over, I told myself that whoever I was meeting was probably just getting changed first and would be back out any second to speak to me.

Butby the end of the final lap, Sebastian was taking off his helmet and pulling plastic from his mouth, shooting a glare at the coach who gave him the weakest thumbs-up in history as his player skated toward the exit.

The same exit that was directly in front of me.

“Hello, Nelly,” he huffed, stepping off the ice and putting that same rubber covering on his skates as the rest of the guys. His dark hair was soaked and plastered against his forehead, drops of sweat dripping from his chin. “Guess it’s time to chat.”

I wanted to throw up and climb him like a tree all at the same time.

Chest heaving, he set his… stick against the clear divider between the stands and the rink, one hand grabbing a fistful of the bottom of his black shirt. He lifted it, inch by inch of his abdomen suddenly wildly on display as he raised it to his face and used the fabric to wipe away the downpour of sweat.Everythingwas out — his abs, his pecs, his nipples, oh myGod.

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