Page 40 of Heat It Up (Off the Ice)
I return my attention to the game. The remainder of it goes down injury free. During the final minutes, Dabria and I put away our supplies, and I thank her for letting me help out. We exchange numbers in case we need to get in touch with each other about the practices and games.
We’re finishing up when Joni jogs over. “So what did you think?” he asks.
“You were great out there.” I’m about to ask him why he kicked the soccer ball at Kyle, but I have no proof he intentionally did it. And why would he anyway?
The guys collect the equipment and carry it to the parking lot. I say bye to everyone and join Kyle.
“Are we still on for ice cream?” I ask him. Ever since I suggested it to him during the practice, it’s all I can think about.
“Sounds good.”
We walk to the café where I checked my email earlier. I order mango in a waffle cone. Kyle orders chocolate. I then lead him to the playground I used to go to as a kid. It’s huge and made of wood instead of plastic. The benches are occupied, so we sit on the grassy knoll near some trees and watch the kids play.
“How’s your ice cream?” he asks.
“Yummy. You wanna try some?” I hold out my cone for him to lick.
But instead of sampling the ice cream, his lips find mine and the tip of his tongue traces along the seam of my mouth. I automatically open up and let him in.
My tongue brushes against his and I savor the taste of chocolate. And it’s good. Really good.
Our kisses become more heated, a taste of what’s to come this weekend. I moan softly. Kyle pulls away. Screams of laugher float over to us, reminding me where we are. Kyle’s kisses have that effect on me—the effect of making me oblivious to our surroundings.
“You’re right,” he says with a wiry smile. “Your ice cream is good.”
I laugh. “So is yours.”
We watch the kids run around, carefree. They don’t have to worry about their careers, a topic which is foreign to them. They don’t have to worry about how their practicum has been canceled.
I try pushing away all thoughts of what it means for my final year and for my future, but they refuse to budge. It doesn’t help that I’m here and can’t talk to my counselor in person.
Kyle strokes my lower back with his thumb. “Hey, where did you go?”
“I’m right here.”
“Right. But I’m not buying it, Sof. What’s going on?”
My eyes widen. In the short time we’ve been hanging out together, he already knows me that well. Which means he can probably tell when I lie. “I found out today my practicum for the fall has been canceled.”
“Can you get another one?”
“Hopefully, especially since I need it to graduate. But it won’t be the same. This one was with a high school, which meant I’d be working with sport teams. That’s what I want to do once I graduate and get my credentials. The experience would’ve been perfect.”
“I’m sorry,” he says and I can tell he means it. But since he can’t do anything about it, I change topics.
“What’s your favorite part about coaching?” I ask.
He doesn’t have to think about. “Working with the kids. What about yours with athletic training?”
“Knowing I make a difference. It’s hard to explain.”
He nods. “No, I get what you mean.”
We finish our ice creams in a silence. With Kyle, I don’t have to talk all the time to avoid the awkward dead air that leaves some people fidgety. It’s nice. Comfortable.
I check the time on my phone. 8:40 p.m. I scramble up. “I should go. I need to study.”
Kyle frowns. “Study? For what?”
