Page 13 of Broken Hearts
“We’re going to run an agility drill,” he informs them.
The guys groan.
Coach skates, picking up cones as he goes, then placing four in a square. “Sienna, if you’ll stand in the middle there.”
I do as instructed.
Coach Meyers proceeds showing them what to do, moving and talking at the same time. “Skate around the first two cones with the puck, tight transitions, pivot, quick feet, pass, and then continue around. We’ll do it for time. Anyone over six seconds owes me a suicide before they get back in line.”
“What about her?” one of the guys asks.
“Glad you asked.” Coach smiles.
“Automatic disqualification for touching her. Not even a hair on her head. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” they mumble.
Coach smiles at me. “Feel free to lean in.”
They guys line up. Rhett’s in the back.
“Rauthruss, why don’t you show us how it’s done.”
The nervous expression on his face makes me giggle.
Coach passes him the puck when he’s in position. “Go.”
At his command, Rhett starts around the first cone. He’s a good skater, smooth, and surprisingly light on his feet. I say surprisingly because he sure didn’t feel light when he ran me over yesterday. I hold my breath as he moves around me the first time. It’s sort of a weaving motion—around a corner cone, around me, another cone, and so on.
Rhett gives me a wide berth, not cutting as close to me as he is the cones. And I’m not the only one that notices.
“Tighter transitions in the center,” Coach barks, sending a pass right at me. Rhett pivots and stops the puck before it hits me, then skates backward around me. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel him. So close I could move a fraction of an inch and brush against him.
He finishes and stops, looking to coach for his time.
“Five and a half seconds.”
Rhett’s face relaxes. That is until his coach looks to me.
“What do you say, Sienna? Any contact? I couldn’t see from this angle.” He fights a grin. I doubt there’s much Coach Meyers misses.
I consider lying. It would be amusing to watch Rhett’s reaction if I did. His expressions play out so well on his face. I like that about him, actually.
“No contact,” I confirm.
“You’re sure?”
The guys laugh. I do too.
“All right. Thank you, Sienna.”
“Rauthruss, give me a suicide anyway.”
“What?” His mouth falls open, and he looks between his coach and me.
“Consider it an apology. Should I make it two?” Coach asks me.
I pretend to think about it, bringing my hand to my chin and making him sweat it out for a few seconds. “Nah, I think one should suffice.”
