Page 9 of Goalies Don't Date Ice Princesses

Coach Irina blew her whistle, signaling for us to gather at the center of the rink. I waved bye to Adelynn again and went off to join my team in the middle of the rink.

Coach Irina cleared her throat.

“Alright, team,” she said, her voice echoing across the rink. Her voice carried authority, yet there was a hint of excitement in her tone that made my heart race even faster. “I hope you’re all feeling ready for the competition with Bredstone Academy in December.”

Her words hung in the air, surrounding us and suffocating us. Suffocating me. I was sure the speech was supposed to be inspiring, and maybe once upon a time it would have been, but right now, it was just sending jolts of nervousness down my spine.

“This competition is not just about winning,” she continued, her voice unwavering. “It’s about pushing ourselves beyond our limits, surpassing our own expectations. It’s about proving to ourselves and to our fans that we are capable of greatness.”

Our yearly competition with Bredstone meant more to all of us than any other competition in the year. The rivalry between our schools ran deep. It was a big deal—not just because we wanted to win, but because it symbolized so much more.

For years, Sinclair and Westwood’s teams had battled it against Bredstone in every sport. Whether it was in the field, on the court, or on the ice, there was an unspoken understanding that victory over Bredstone meant pride and honor for our school. It was a chance to prove ourselves, to prove to the world that our school was one of champions. In the realm of figure skating, our rivalry with Bredstone intensified to an entirely different level. The ice became a battleground where elegance clashed with competition. Every year, this was not only a test of skill but also a battle for pride.

“You have all trained relentlessly,” Coach Irina continued, her voice carrying a sense of pride. “Countless early mornings and late nights have brought us to this moment. Our routines are tight, our technique is sharp, and I’m sure you are all more passionate about figure skating than ever.”

The tension in the air was almost tangible. Coach Irina’s words echoed in my mind, reminding me of the weight that rested upon our shoulders. I could feel the energy vibrating through the ice beneath my skates, urging me to push harder, to reach for something greater—while also telling me that if I didn’t win at this competition… I failed. Not just myself, but my team, my coaches, my parents—everyone.

“We have six weeks until the competition,” Coach Irina said. She began to pace in front of us, her hands clasped behind her back and a severe expression on her face. “Until then, I need you girls to focus. Right now, nothing matters more than skating. You understand?”

We nodded, our eyes fixed on Coach Irina as she continued to pace. The weight of her words settled upon us, sinking deep into our souls. Each step she took resonated with the intensity of the upcoming competition. The pressure was mounting, the weight of expectation crushing down on our shoulders like an avalanche of ice.

Nothing matters more.

Skating was my life. It always had been. Nothing made me happier than being on the ice, spinning and jumping to my heart’s content.

But lately... Skating practice had started to feel a little less like it was about the actual skating and more about just winning. Or maybe it had always been like that. But the passion for winning that used to fuel me had since died down to a whimper. The speeches had gone from fueling me to push myself harder to making me feel like I was being crushed on all sides.

“Let’s get to work,” Coach Irina said.

Over the next hour of skating, I swore I had never fallen so much in my life.

I probably looked like an idiot, like I was flailing around on skates for the first time in my life instead of someone who had been skating since I’d learned to walk. I fell and stumbled and narrowly avoided crashing into people on five separate occasions. At one point, I thought Assistant Coach Jasmine was going to pull me off the ice because I was flat out a hindrance to the others. I could only imagine what Archer thought of me, seeing me like this.

Archer. Why was I back to thinking about him?

As I took a much needed break to catch my breath—and giving everyone a chance to skate without me being a disaster around them—I glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was busy looking down at something with a pencil in his hand. Doing homework, maybe? At least that would be less of a waste of time than just watching us all skate. He was supposed to be at his own club right now, after all, and skipping clubs was just as bad as skipping classes. So why was he?

eight

I sprawledon the end of Adelynn’s bed, a book in hand that I was pretending to read.

“What did you tell your mom you’re doing tonight?” I asked, peering at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I told her I was sick,” Adelynn replied, a hint of guilt in her voice. She turned to face me, arms outstretched. “Okay. What do you think?”

Setting my book aside, I studied her, and a proud smile crossed my face. Adelynn had managed to pull off a different look for herself today. One that was just what she wanted, instead of wearing what Avianna always wanted her to wear.

“Fantastic,” I declared. But it was missing something. I jumped up from my bed and went to my jewelry box and grabbed a gold chain that I thought would accent it well.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just accessorizing,” I said, wrapping the gold chain around her neck for her.

“Are you trying to strangle me?” she teased. “Because if I get murdered in my dorm room, the first suspect they’ll look at is my roommate.”

“Who said I was planning to leave your body here?” I joked, finishing clasping the necklace and spinning her around to admire it in the mirror. I ran my fingers through the back of her dark hair. It was straightened as always, even though her natural wavy hair was so pretty. “I wish you’d leave your hair natural sometimes. The waves always look so good.”

“I already had it straightened today,” she explained, and I sighed. She didn’t even like straightening her hair, she only did it because Avianna wanted them to look identical. I thought it was about time she find her own style, but she wasn’t willing to try it. “Anyway, do you have some lipstick I can borrow? I’m feeling like I need something dark, but I don’t have any.”

---