Kiss My Ice

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He titled his head to the side like he was confused by my bitterness. "Why what?"

"Why do you care?" I snapped. Again, I cursed myself. Too loud. "We aren't friends."

Chris laughed off my hostility like it wasn't even there. "Like I said, you were in rough shape last night. I wanted to see if you were okay."

I sucked in my bottom lip. I still didn't understand why he cared. Aiden was there last night too but I didn't see him coming up to me asking how I was feeling.

Chris took a step closer to me. "Can we talk outside?"

I raised my eyebrows. For a long moment I contemplated it. A part of me was curious why he was so persistent in being nice to me when I had been nothing but bitter back.

"I think I'll pass." It was too bright outside in the sun for me to entertain the idea of talking to him. Chris was a hockey head, after all.

Rolling his eyes, Chris elected to ignore my rejection and instead grabbed me by the wrist. He began pulling me in the direction of the doors.

I mentally cursed as the pounding in my head grew stronger from the sudden movement. "Excuse me," I grumbled. I attempted to dig my feet into the ground and protest, but my muscles felt too weak to put up much of a fight.

"What do you want?" I hissed bitterly the second that we got outside into the summer heat. I yanked away my wrist, my hand instantly on my forehead once again. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you today. I have a pounding headache, my muscles are fatigued, the light is blinding, and all I want to do is go home and sleep. I cannot deal with a hockey head right now."

The corners of Chris's lips peeled upward. He thought this was funny.

"You're hungover."

I blinked. "What?"

"Zoe, you're hungover."

My eyes narrowed to his. This was not a time for jokes. "I've never even tried alcohol."

Chris chuckled. "Maybe not before last night."

"I've never taken a single sip," I insisted.

He shook his head, laughing off my attempt to tell him that I had not had any alcohol. Nor did I have any interest in trying it. I wanted to throttle him for laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Out of curiosity," he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned backwards, "what do you think you were drinking last night?"

My eyebrows furrowed together, and I pouted. Last night was a blur. I didn't remember drinking anything at all. Although I could vaguely remember there being a punch bowl.

"Punch?" It was a question. If I had drank anything it probably would have been the punch.

Chris's eyes flashed with amusement. He pointed a finger in my direction as he said, "technically true." He refolded his arms over his chest. "That was jungle juice."

"Jungle juice?"

Never heard of it.

"Orange juice, fruit punch, pineapple juice, lemonade." Chris leaned down to my ear. "Vodka. Rum."

I gulped. "Vodka and rum?" I echoed, my voice merely a whisper.

Chris backed out of my space and nodded. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Hard liquor."

The color drained from my face; I could feel it as my knees went weak. I staggered backwards. Chris was quick to move his hands to my waist, balancing me. Everything made sense. I was hungover.

"How much did I drink?" I was dumbfounded. How had I let this happen?

Chris removed his hands once I was stable and took a large step backward. He rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle. "Two cups."

"Two cups?" I repeated.

"It doesn't take much hard liquor to get a young girl drunk. Especially if you had never had it before."

Touché.

I bit my lip. Heat rose to my face. "I can't remember anything. Why didn't my brother stop me? He should have known that I don't do alcohol."

Chris offered a small smile. "He tried. You cut him off."

My lips fell into an 'o'. That shouldn't have surprised me. I was probably mad at him for inviting hockey players when I had told him no hockey.

"Right..."

A silence fell between us.

I turned my back to avoid his stare. My fingers curled around my left bicep. I chewed my lip. "Please tell me I didn't do anything embarrassing last night."

Maybe I wouldn't have wanted to know the answer, but I felt that I should. I wasn't alone last night. The last thing I wanted was for everyone to know about something I did expect for me.

"Not really," Chris answered with a soft chuckle. "You and Aiden bickered with each other. You drank some punch. Then you got up to use the bathroom, but by that time all the alcohol you drank had kicked in. You ended up losing your balance on the way to the house and stumbled sideways. Aiden happened to have been getting a drink so he managed to catch you before you fell, and you uh..." Chris laughed. "You blacked out in his arms."

I froze. My body felt like I was on fire. I did what?

"Please tell me that you are joking."

"I'm not. You passed out in his arms, so Scott asked if he could carry you to your room."

My mouth forgot how to speak. Or maybe my brain malfunctioned and I just couldn't move. I didn't know what to do or how I was supposed to respond. My first time having alcohol and I got drunk and passed out in the guy I hate the most arms. The universe really did hate me.

I slowly turned to face Chris. He gave a sheepish smile. "If it makes you feel better, I think Aiden was worried about you too."

Now I knew Chris was lying.

I inhaled sharply. "I find that extremely hard to believe."

Chris let out a long, low sigh. "I know you hate all hockey players and all, but has it ever occurred to you that we weren't all bad?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. It felt like a trick question.

Chris Dayton was the first hockey player to make me question everything I stood for with my hatred against hockey. He seemed genuine. Nice. He made me believe that he actually cared about me. It was the exact opposite of how all the other hockey players made me feel.

A small smile forced its way to my face. "Maybe you're proving me wrong."

Chris grinned.

"But only time will tell," I added quickly.

He shook his head and started to walk back to the rink doors. "I should probably get back to my brother's practice." He paused in front of the doors and looked over his shoulder at me with a smile. "I hope you feel better."

Then he was gone, back into the rink. A million things swirled my still pounding head. The biggest one left me feeling bewildered.

Had I just befriended a hockey player?

--

Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. This is where the story starts to get interesting!

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