Page 13 of Goalies Don't Date Ice Princesses

“How did you get the door open?” He asked in a tense voice.

“I pulled it?”

“It was locked.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I think I would have noticed if I had to pick the lock.”

Archer pressed his lips together and looked me up and down.

“If you won’t tell me how you got in?—”

“I already did!”

“—tell me why you’re actually here. Why you’ve been coming here the past few nights.”

“Why don’t you tell me something first?” I said.

His brows knit together and he took a step toward me. “What do you want to know?”

I took a step closer to him as well, putting my hands on my hips. “Why have you been watching our skating practices?”

“I already told your friend,” he said coldly. Another step toward me. “I like watching figure skating.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine,” he said. His next step brought him close enough to me that he had to tilt his head down to be able to look me in the eye. “Why do you think I was there?”

My next step forward put us almost toe-to-toe. Up close like this, I could see every detail of his face, from the almost invisible freckles on his left cheek to the speckles of green in his dark brown eyes.

“I think you were there to watch me,” I said. Archer’s eyes narrowed. He closed what was left of the gap between us, practically pressing himself against me. I never thought about how much taller he was than me until we were standing like this, with me feeling like I was half the size of him.

“And what if I was?” He asked, his voice low. My breath caught as I looked up at him—at this boy who liked nobody, who never smiled or anything—and realized that he had practically just confirmed that he’d been watching me. My heart raced as Archer’s words hung in the air, the tension between us palpable. But before I could collect my thoughts and summon the courage to answer him, his hockey bag slipped off its spot on the bench and crashed loudly on the ground, breaking the moment between us.

Archer swiftly stepped back, breaking our close proximity and whatever moment we’d been having. His guarded expression returned to his face and I couldn’t help but feel disappointed at seeing his cold facade once again.

“Forget it,” he muttered dismissively. Then he turned on his heels and skated away, leaving me standing there breathless and wondering what on earth just happened.

ten

The pressurearound figure skating only increased with every passing week as Coach Irina kept reminding us how important the upcoming competition with Bredstone Academy was. She said we should view every competition until then as a practice for it, a reminder of what we were working for together.

Needless to say, it was getting to me a little.

It wasn’t just affecting my practices either, although they weren’t going well. I was pretty sure there hadn’t been a single practice in September where I didn’t fall at least five times, usually on moves I should have been able to do easily. I was starting to get sympathetic looks from all the other girls, like they’d noticed how badly I was doing and thought it was the end of my high school skating career or something. But I’d accepted that. What I didn’t like was that now I was falling when I went for my nightly skates, too.

While Archer would spend those late hours easily skating around and doing absurd moves that I wouldn’t expect from a hockey player, I was falling over from doing simple spins. Most of the time, he didn’t even glance at me. When he did, he said nothing. Sometimes, if I was in a particularly bad mood, I would make a snippy comment likeI’m fine, thanks for asking. He never responded more than sayinggood.

Not until a late weekend of October, when I was barely able to stay on my feet for more than ten seconds.

“Oof!” I groaned as I landed hip-first on the ice again. I wasn’t even doing anything spectacular—I literally just tripped over my own feet.

“Okay, what is wrong with you tonight?” Archer suddenly snapped. I looked at him with wide eyes. That was one of the longest sentences I’d ever heard him say, and it was especially strange to hear it tonight when he’d been otherwise silent. As he kept staring at me, I tried to school my expression into a glare instead.

“Shut up,” I said.

---