"We're still studying even though you ordered food." I say to Jack as I take a bite of the sandwich he had delivered to my dorm room as a peace offering during our tutoring session.
He gives me an apologetic smile, "I figured."
Food was a good idea. Earlier wasn't even really his fault. I mean it kind of was because he wouldn't leave me alone during the lecture and unfortunately our professor noticed.
"Al," Jack whispers loudly and I ignore him, trying to catch what our professor is saying.
"Hey."
My grip on my pencil tightens out of annoyance. Class gets out in fifteen minutes and he seriously can't wait until then?
"Al, stop ignoring me."
Keri looks at me curiously and I don't know what to tell her.
"Alondra," He drawls closely into my ear.
I flinch, finally giving him the reaction he wanted. "Shut up please," I grit out through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry Mr. Schultz and Ms. Brown. I didn't mean to bore you," Our professor sneers from the front of the auditorium and all eyes zero in on us.
I run a hand over my face to try and keep my face from erupting bright red from all the attention. Jack calmly responds, "Professor, I'm sorry. I was just asking Alondra a quick question about something you said a few minutes ago."
"You might do well to pay better attention Mr. Schultz. Just because you're an athlete does not mean I'm going to cut you any slack when it comes to the grading scale." He warns harshly before his eyes fall on me, "And you Ms. Brown. I expected better after making an exception to let you into my class."
I nod once, dipping my head down low. I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything I could regret. I'd heard this guy was a pompous asshole, but seriously? All my assignments have been turned in on time. I've been studying my ass off for the test on Thursday. I've been helping Jack study too so he does well. I've seen his grades and they've been steadily climbing.
Jack's groupies he used to sit with are turned around snickering slightly at me and I do my best to ignore them.
I was angry, not so much with Jack, but with our professor. I was a little mad with Jack, but it didn't really have anything to do with him. More so about his stupid groupies. I feel dumb for letting them get to me
We've been studying for what feels like forever. I'm starting to lose focus and I can tell that Jack is only hanging on because hockey is on the line. Jack works through some practice questions for his microeconomics exam Friday. We also have a test in two days in Calc and I plan on fucking acing it to spite the teacher. Also because anything below a ninety feels like a big fat F. I've been doodling on the corner of my notebook for the last half hour because I'm confident in the grade I'm sure I'll get.
Jack's been here for a few hours now, ever since my dad let them out of practice actually. To my relief, he hasn't mentioned my dad or what I told him at the rink once.
I lean against the wall after finishing my sandwich to watch Jack solve a problem. His brows are scrunched up in confusion and his dark hair is hanging in his face, having fallen loose from the number of times he's run his fingers through his hair. The twin sized bed we're sitting on feeling even smaller than normal because of the sheer size of Jack.
An athlete's body through and through.
His blue eyes flit up, making contact with mine. "Are you staring at me because you're plotting ways to kill me for earlier?"
To my surprise, a snort escapes me. I pull my braid over my shoulder and twist the ends. "I'm not planning to kill you. I wasn't even really mad at you." I was just upset. There's a difference.
"It was my fault we were called out."
"It was blown out of proportion by our professor," I retaliate and Jack smiles faintly.
"He's a jackass."
"He is a jackass who has something stuck up his ass."
His faint smile turns into a full blown one as he laughs heartily before quieting down and focusing back on the problem. Jack's taking tutoring seriously which makes me happy. I'm still trying to get used to calling and thinking of him as a friend. It's a good kind of different though.
I shrug off the thought and look over at Pritchett's unmade bed. She was going out with a few people from one of her classes. It's a little weird being with Jack alone. Usually she's here as a friendly buffer.
He writes his final answer on the paper and passes it over to me. "How'd I do, darling?"
"I don't know yet, you just handed it to me," I reply sarcastically.
Jack rolls his eyes but I can see the nervousness in them. The tests are weighted so heavily in his class; there's only four too. He can retake two of them or make test corrections for up to a third of the points back on three of them.
He ended up scoring a seventy four which after only a few weeks of working together, I'm proud of him. Jack still seemed disappointed with only scoring a seventy four, but honestly I think he needs to relax a little.
I've stuffed all the information into his brain and I know he knows it. He just has to believe in himself. Doing this for hours on end isn't good for anyone and the fact I can admit it should say a lot.
"Why don't we take a break?" I suggest, trying to gauge his mood.
Jack runs a distressed hand through his hair, causing the chestnut colored locks to flop out of place and hang in his face. "Al, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I have two days before this test. All the tutoring and the fact I've taken this class before should mean acing the test. Instead, I get a fucking seventy-four."
The frustration is clear in his body language, but the bitterness in his voice surprises me.
"Jack..."
He shuts his eyes and pinches his nose, sucking in a sharp breath.
"Pushing yourself harder isn't going to help. You're doing really well. Tutoring isn't a magic cure all, but this is good. This is passing."
Jack's crystal blue eyes open to look at me, "Would you be happy with this grade?"
I fall silent because in high school I let some of my grades slip while I was with Grady. It was one of the many ways I lost sight of who I was when we were together. My grades were one of the first things I focused on when we ended. Thankfully a semester of bad grades wasn't enough to derail my GPA because of extra points I had from my AP classes. But I don't voice this. He can see it on my face that I wouldn't be alright with it.
"It shouldn't be this hard," He mumbles under his breath. Jack sighs again before peeling himself off the bed. "I'm going to go. It's getting late and I've taken up enough of your time with all this pointless tutoring."
"It's not pointless and you don't have to leave. We're friends now; you're welcome to stay and hang out for a bit. Only if you want to of course," I add the last sentence when I see the hesitation on his face. I wouldn't mind spending some time with Jack and learning more about him.
I feel like he knows a chunk of my dirty laundry and I know literally nothing about him except he's from Texas. There's also the hockey part and his dyslexia. Other than that, all I really know is that he is the big man on campus, his fan club is vicious, and that his smile and stupid dimples are contagious.
He musters a faint smile, but shoulders his backpack anyway. "I'm sorry but I'm not really in the mood tonight. Are you free tomorrow morning? I've got morning skate, but I don't have class until the afternoon." Jack counters and I feel a little better about his rejection to stay since he offered an alternative.
"Sure," I say, trying to sound nonchalant about it. Ouch. I went from not wanting to spend time with Jack at all to not wanting him to leave. Pathetic.
"Night Al."
I lean against the wall and let out a short puff of air. "Night," I mumble back and the door shuts behind him.
*********
My hands are steady as I lace up the skates despite the chill in the arena. I'd asked Dad last night when I went home what time morning skate was today; he grunted a response that resembled six so here I am at four. I lied and said I stopped by home to grab a few more sweatshirts since the temperature is about to really start dramatically dropping despite it already being cold as shit, but I really went for my skates under my bed. I dropped them out the window onto the yard so I could grab them without questions. I don't know where to begin so it's better they aren't asked at all.
I was going to skate last night, but I couldn't bring myself to actually do it. A night of tossing and turning while running through how defeated Jack looked in my head was enough for me to do this tiny little thing for myself.
I take a few wobbly steps closer to the crystal clear ice free of any imperfections. Dad's anal about running the zamboni over it every night until it's perfect. He'll probably assume one of the players came early and messed it up.
I falter when I get to the gate and suck in a deep breath, fisting the sleeves of my sweater in my hands. My breath is coming out in tiny puffs of white crystals and I'm nervous.
Jack was nervous last night. If he can get over it and admit his own faults to try and better himself academically, then I can allow myself to do something I quite frankly love and never should have stopped doing.
When I finally work up the courage to push myself forward onto the ice, my skate slides underneath me and I almost bust my ass before I even start.
"Shit," I swear quietly before pushing my feet forward.
The thrill of being on the ice quickly fills my entire body and I find myself letting loose.
I push out the memory of why I quit skating, because this? Being here right now is healing a part of me that I thought I had fixed, but really had only placed a bandaid over. It's the best feeling. However, thinking back to why I quit will defeat the purpose of coming today.
This is for me and no one else.
The scraping of my blades on the ice is music to my ears, filling the arena with faint echos.
I spin. I laugh. I smile.
I spread my arms out to pretend I'm an airplane when I follow the wide curves of the rink.
I skate.
Minnesota might not be where I wanted to end up, but maybe it's where I needed to stay. I'll never tell my parents that though. All I'd hear is an 'I told you so'.
I pick up speed until I feel like I'm flying. The flyaways that have escaped from my braid are flying around my face, but I feel alive. Eyeing the exact spot I want to land, I use the speed and toe pick to help propel myself in the air to spin twice to see if I can still land a double axel. It used to be in all of my figure skating routines. I worked for hours to execute it flawlessly when I was competing.
Except it's been a while.
I don't twist fast enough and I bust my ass on the ice, laughing loudly. Quickly pushing myself up again, I continue trying until I've landed a couple of them in a row. I'm breathing heavily because I'm so out of shape that it's not even funny. But the smile on my face is from ear to ear.
I turn to skate back to where I'd left my things when I notice a figure, decked out in practice gear, standing there watching me.
My smile immediately drops. I hadn't even noticed that he was there because I'd been so lost in just feeling like my old self again. The closer I get, the more the figure turns into Jack with so many questions on his face.
I brush past him, quickly dropping into a seat to pull my skates off quickly as he lumbers behind me.
"Darling, where did you learn to skate like that?" He asks bluntly. His voice is a little deeper, probably because he woke up not too long ago. I avoid meeting his gaze.
"I don't skate."
He scoffs loudly, "Oh so you were possessed by some magical demon who gets off on the adrenaline rush of skating just as much as the rest of us?"
My lips press into a flat line. No one was supposed to see me here. Not even Jack.
"What are you even doing here?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Jack retaliates and I glare at him. "I meet up with Zeke on Wednesdays before morning skate to work one on one with him per your dad's request."
I shove the skates into my bag and shoulder it, feeling wobbly again on solid ground. Mom used to say I was more graceful on ice than on land. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. It's not Jack's fault he comes early on the one day I decide to lace up my skates for the first time in over a year.
Jack's voice softens, "Dammit Al. Will you talk to me please?"
"Why should I? I know literally nothing about you! You are the one who hounded me to be friends. It goes both ways buddy."
I'm decently tall at five foot eight inches compared to some of my friends, but Jack was taller than me to begin with. Add the skates and he really is larger than life.
He chews on his lip and runs a hand through his hair. His nervous tic, I think. It's the only explanation to explain why he does it so much, but that would mean I make him nervous. Why do I make him nervous? I know why he makes me nervous, but I don't know how I could possibly make Jack nervous.
"You asked if I tell people about my dad after I got upset about finding out yours is my coach. I tell people he's dead because he might as well be. He's in jail and I hope he stays there for as long as fucking possible." There's unmistakeable venom in Jack's voice that hints there's more of a story there, but I don't ask any questions. I step forward to hug him tightly around his torso, catching both of us by surprise.
Maybe Jack and I are more alike than I thought with our daddy issues.
His arms wrap slowly around me and I hear a sigh of relief from Jack. We stand there for what feels like forever and when I back away from him, I offer him a slight smile to try and break the ice. "How was my worst?"
Jack gets what my question is referring to and he smiles faintly at me, reaching up to ruffle my hair. "Shut up, I'm not answering that."
The tension from getting caught on the ice was starting to slip away from me, but I definitely need to get out of here before Dad shows up.
"Why not? I think my hug was a ten out of ten."
He laughs deeply and shakes his head. "Solid four."
My jaw drops and I hit his arm in retaliation.
"Liar."
"Oh cry me a river darling, you gave my worst a three that was definitely not deserving of a three." I can't help but laugh and a snort slips out causing Jack to begin laughing again. It's a great sound to hear. "For as graceful as you were out there, that was the complete opposite."
"It happens sometimes." I shrug, maintaining a smile on my face as I glance nervously towards the doors where I'm sure his teammate is going to come out any second. "You didn't see me out here, okay?"
He gives me a smile, probably to ease my temper so I don't bite his head off again because he happened to walk in on me out here. "Got it. I'd like another kiss to seal the deal," Jack jokes.
I roll my eyes and kiss my hand before resting it on his cheek, trying not to let my hand linger more than a few seconds. His skin is warm and my hands are freezing. "There you go. That's what a real kiss is like."
"Your hands are cold."
I stick my tongue out at him, "You're the one who wanted a kiss. You didn't specify what kind." I turn away from him to grab the duffle bag I'd shoved my skates into carelessly.
The clock on my phone reads a little after five. It felt like I was only out there for twenty minutes, not an hour. Maybe I can get in a quick nap when I get back to the room. Pritchett was sound asleep when I left.
"Hey Al?"
"Yeah?"
Jack hesitates, "About my dad—I don't..." There's a glint of fear in his eyes that I recognize.
"Don't worry about it. We've all got our shit. My lips are sealed."
He offers me a grateful smile. "Thanks. If you want to stash that bag somewhere for when you're definitely not skating, I'll put them in my locker for safe keeping. Beats lugging them around campus."
I hesitate, but nod, pulling the strap off my shoulder to put it in his outstretched hand. "I don't skate."
"Got it. You don't skate."
The clang of a door shutting catches my attention and I back away so quickly I almost trip over my own feet. "Schultz, you're not going to make me puke today before practice right?"
"Depends on how many shots you miss," He replies nonchalantly, setting my bag next to his stuff. "Thanks for dropping off my notes Al, you're a lifesaver." Jack winks at me and I almost melt in relief when I realize what he's doing.
Correction: Jack is a lifesaver. I'm not sure if it's believable at five in the freaking morning, but Zeke doesn't question it.
Zeke looks me up and down, his eyes squint as if he recognizes me, but I don't think I've ever met him before.
I wave, silently retreating as the joy of gliding across the ice again resonates through me. I went too long without that feeling.