Page 3 of Goalies Don't Date Ice Princesses

“Okay, girls, line up,” Coach Irina called, clapping her hands a few times to get our attention. I slowed my movements as I veered toward the middle of the rink, keeping my eyes on the sidelines. Blair happily waved goodbye to Archer, and he just stared back at her impassively, with his classic expression, never showing a hint of emotion.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to read his mind.

“What was that?” I whispered to Blair as we pulled up in the line of skaters together.

“I was just asking why he’s watching our practice.” She pulled at her thin gloves casually, like she didn’t care about this conversation at all, even though I knew she lived for this kind of drama.

“And?”

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, a sly smirk crossing her face. “He claims he just likes figure skating.”

There was no way. As subtly as possible, I glanced over my shoulder to look at him again. To my surprise, he was still staring right back at me. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the noise of the rink fading into the background as we held each other’s gaze.

Why was he watching us? Watching me? Or was it just egotistical of me to assume he was looking at me specifically? Maybe I just happened to look over at the same time his gaze was passing over me. It didn’t mean he was there to watch me. It could just be a coincidence that it felt like he was. That was probably it. That was the only thing that made sense.

After a long few seconds, I tore my gaze away, feeling a flush creeping up my neck. This was absurd. Why was I so affected by him? He was just another guy, and more importantly, my best friend’s brother. I needed to focus on skating, on perfecting my routine, not get lost in the mystery that was Archer.

three

Sneakingout of my new dorm room was a lot harder than my old one. For one thing, we were on a higher floor here. For another, there was somebody actually stationed by the front doors to make sure we didn’t leave at night.

Luckily, being on the figure skating team came with many perks—including knowing someone who lived in a single room on the first floor and was willing to let me climb out her window at night in exchange for me buying her candy from the tuck shop. Her mom absolutely forbid her from eating any sugar, so she was desperate for a source that her mom couldn’t track.

Thank goodness that they only had the dorm heads monitor the halls for a half an hour after curfew, with someone only watching the door after that. A bit of an oversight on their part, but one I was thankful for.

“Thanks Katarina,” I whispered to her as I stumbled across her dark room. She mumbled back sleepily. She always tried to stay awake for when I came through her room, but I couldn’t exactly blame her for falling asleep, especially when we had an early practice the next morning. Actually, I was just really jealous of her being able to sleep that easily. If I could do that, I would be up in my warm bed right now instead of trying not to face-plant as I climbed out my teammate’s window.

As soon as I stepped outside, a shiver ran down my spine. The crisp fall air and eerie shadows from the moonlight wrapped around me, reminding me that I wasn’t supposed to be out here right now. I looked up at Katarina’s window, still propped open, inviting me to return to the warm safety of the dorm room. Back when I first started sneaking out at night like this, there were many nights I decided to turn back. When I would give in to the temptation and stay in my room instead, pacing all night as I waited for my mind to shut off for long enough for me to sleep. But once I discovered that Sinclair Academy left the doors of the ice rink propped open at night—as if inviting me to come in—I never looked back.

Even though it had been months since I’d snuck out like this, everything came to me naturally. When it came down to it, Westwood’s campus wasn’t all that different from Sinclair’s. Getting from my room to the rink was a simple matter of crossing behind a couple of buildings, keeping low and out of the light in case anyone was on the lookout. But the level of patrolling had gone down significantly since the beginning of the school year. At first, they were worried about students sneaking into each other’s dorms, exhilarated by being at a co-ed school for the first time, but I guess that had receded in the two months since school started. It was back to business as usual now.

Unfortunately for me, “business as usual” at school was exactly what caused my insomnia. Because without the distraction of the insanity that was the beginning of the school year, I suddenly had the time to remember all the stresses of my life. Everything I had to do.

Be the best, Bri. Everyone is relying on you.

It didn’t even occur to me until my hand was on the outside door handle that unlike Sinclair, Westwood might actually lock their athletic buildings at night.

But when I pulled, the door opened easily. “Must be a sign,” I whispered to myself. Better that I think of it like that than allow myself to spiral about why it was unlocked and whether I was going to regret this.

I stepped inside the dimly lit building, the familiar scent of freshly cleans floors overwhelming me. That was probably why the door was open—the cleaning crew was here. And sure, even them seeing me wasn’t ideal, but they wouldn’t rat me out. I hoped.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the vast space, reverberating against the high walls adorned with championship banners and framed photographs of figure skaters from years past. I couldn’t help but stare at their smiling faces as I walked by and wonder if they ever questioned everything as much as I did.

Did you ever think you would never make it?

Did you ever wish you never started competing?

Did you ever want to quit?

They couldn’t answer me, of course. But I liked to think they were there, telling me they felt the same way too. That everyone had doubts. That I wasn’t wrong for feeling this way. Because some days, it really felt like I was the only one.

I stopped in the change room for just long enough to shed my shoes and put on my skates instead, and then I was headed off to the rink, tying my hair up as I went. The scent of the ice wafted towards me, a familiar and comforting aroma that instantly transported me back to Sinclair Academy. Two months here and still, I dreamed of my old school instead. Maybe these night skates could help heal the feeling in my heart that this would never be my true home.

I loved the way the rink was silent and calm at night. Totally peaceful. As much as I loved the girls on the figure skating team and was always happy to be at practice with them, there was something so magical about coming here in the middle of the night and having the whole place to myself. Skating on fresh ice without any worries about bumping into someone or people watching as I messed up my jumps or coaches yelling in my ear. There was nothing like the peace of skating alone.

And I was all ready to get started—until I realized the lights in the rink were on.

I froze in place, halfway up the ramp that led from the hallway to the rink. At this angle, I couldn’t see the rink easily, but I sure could hear it. And there was no denying the sound of skates gliding across the ice.

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