Crack In The Ice - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

"But what if I don't wanna go?"
"Don't go," James says.
Connor rolls his eyes. "Sure."
Next to me, Owen sighs like a parent who would have rather keet watching his game than chime in. "What's your deal, man?"
"I don't know," Connor mumbles.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Dean asks.
Connor looks down at his shoes. "I guess."
"Then go," James says with a tentative smile.
Connor gives him an annoyed side-eye.
As much as I like James, I kinda get Connor's irritation. That said, Connor needs to snap out of this and stop whining.
"You wanted a job now you're done with college. You got an interview. Go to the interview," I say.
Owen cocks one eyebrow at me. I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
Connor sighs. "I've never been on a job interview."
"You had a job before," Owen says.
Connor scoffs. "Selling snow globes on weekends. That was different."
James frowns. "How?"
Connor doesn't answer, but his leg starts jumping up and down irritably.
James doesn't know how these two situations could be different because he never had a job. Any job. Ever.
Connor had a job at the resort's gift shop while he was in college to help cover some of his expenses. Now, he has an interview at the Astor Investments' IT department.
And it's different because this is a full time job. It's different because this is the field Connor studied and this is supposed to be his future, his life beginning. It's different because, once Connor takes it, he's supposed to become financially self-reliant.
James wouldn't get that.
"Look," Owen starts. "You put on a decent shirt, tell them what you know, you give all the boring answers about weaknesses and strengths that you can find on Google, and you're fine. It's an IT job in a town where the supply is scarce. Your dad recommended you. You have the degree. They called you. You'll be fine."
If anyone else had said it, Connor might have kept going down the anxiety spiral. But it's Owen. He's the team captain. If your captain tells you you'll be fine, you trust him.
Dean stands up, hooting and cheering.
"What happened?" Connor asks.
"Leah Astor scored," James says. "Again."
I put my eyes on the rink again.
There she is. Liam's little sister, in full hockey gear, getting jumped by her happy teammates. On the other end of the rink, a group of crestfallen and tired-looking teenage boys seems to be reassuring their goalie.
This friendly game is a recent Brunson tradition of three years. After being denied the opportunity to try out for the Brunson High hockey team on their freshmen year on account of being girls, Leah Astor and her hockey-loving friends petitioned all year to start a girls team. At first, the school denied it because there was really no point in a girls team when they couldn't compete in any championships to justify the expense.
So, every inch an Astor, Leah asked her father to arrange practicing slots on the Ice Arenas for them and they practiced all year without a coach. By the end of the year, they challenged the boys team for a friendly game - with a bet on the side. If they lost, they were supposed to stop hogging the practicing time at the rink. If they won, they were to be allowed to try out next year and practice with the team.
They won.
Six freshman girls against everything the Brunson Grizzly Bears had to offer after my friends and I left. And the freshmen won.
Next year, Leah and her friends tried out, got in, then decided they didn't want to be on the boys' team. So they practiced with the boys, making the most of the coaches, all while trying to rally other female classmates to join Brunson High's very own all-girls hockey team.
They succeeded at that too. Then proceeded to celebrate by beating the boys once again at another end-of-the-year friendly game.
It's really no surprise the girls won again this year.
Dean's dad - the assistant coach of the hockey team at the high school - calls both boys and girls to his side.
"Well. And there's that," Connor says standing up to stretch.
"We should get dinner at The Lodge." Dean says excitedly. "I want another serving of that beef stew before I go back."
"Because everyone knows beef stew is illegal in Canada," Connor muses.
"It's just not the same. Doesn't taste like home," Dean says.
"Home?" Owen frown. "Like we could ever afford to eat there before." He tilts his head. "Most of us still can't."
"It's on me," Dean offers promptly. "Pretty please?"
Connor puts an arm around Dean's shoulders. "If you're paying, I'm game."
"I'm gonna wait for Chloe," James says.
"Chloe's here?" I look around, eyes scanning the second rink for familiar faves among the few figure skaters still practicing.
"She and Liam had an off-ice practice. They're upstairs," James says.
In all my eighteen years living in Brunson, I've never been upstairs, to the private training rooms the skaters use for conditioning and physiotherapy. Mostly because I never needed. And also because they're rented by the hour.
"When do they get off?" Dean asks. "We can all wait for them and go together."
"Don't think we have to wait for long." Owen points down at the rinks, where Liam and Chloe are coming from the locker rooms.
We get down from the spectators' bleachers and meet them halfway by the door to the parking lot.
"We're all going to The Lodge for beef stew. On Dean," Connor announces. "Wanna come?" He pokes his sister on the stomach just because he can. Chloe grabs his finger in an iron grip and twists. Connor yelps pulling away.
"Actually, I was kind of hoping for a night in," James says.
Chloe turns to Dean. "I could go for stew."
James looks at her. "I thought you got tired after off-ice workouts."
"Right. I could use some stew to recharge." Chloe shrugs. "You can go home, though. Liam's headed to The Lodge anyway so he can drive me."
At the mention of his name, Liam lifts his head from where his eyes had been intently studying his shoes. He eyes the large group, giving me nothing but an inconspicuous glance.
"Don't think we'll all fit in my car," he says. "I'm supposed to drive Leah too."
"Can't she go on Chloe's lap?" Dean offers.
Liam arches his eyebrows and crosses his arms. "My sister in her post-practice state is nearly a hundred and sixty pounds of teenage athlete and hockey gear combined, and Chloe's barely a hundred pounds. But you're free to jump on Eli's lap."
Dean raises his arms, palms forward, in surrender.
"It's okay. I'm going with you," James says, not sounding extra excited.
"Cool. We'll meet you guys there with Leah?" Chloe says, already moving toward the door, taking Liam by the arm.
James opens his mouth. "Uh... Yeah. Sure."
We move into James's car - Connor on the passenger seat, Owen, Dean and I in the back. When we get to The Lodge, Dean asks for a table to fit eight and we get one of the big circular booths. Liam, Chloe and Leah come in not too long after.
Seeing her like that, two or three inches taller than I remember, dark hair still damp from a shower like his, Leah looks strikingly like Liam. Before I left, she was a kid. Now she's starting high school senior year after the summer.
Liam slides directly to my side, followed by Chloe, then Leah.
Hannah's not working tonight, but I still recognize the blonde waitress who comes up to our booth with a timid smile.
"Hey, Paige," Connor says before anyone has time to.
I can see a pink color rise to Paige's cheeks as she says, "Hey, guys. What can I get you?"
At first, I think the blush is on Owen's account. Back when we were all in high school, and she was just Olie's shiest friend, Paige used to blush aggressively and stare at Owen all the time. But right now, I notice she hasn't even looked in Owen's direction yet. Instead, her eyes have been on Connor the whole time.
Connor has the same reined-in smile on his face as he stares back.
Before I can even consider that maybe I'm imagining things, I see Chloe roll her eyes, with the kind of disgusted irritation only a sibling could muster.
"I think we'll all have the beef stew," Owen says.
I look at him, trying to see how he feels about his little sister's friend's changed affections. I knew back in high school Owen wasn't too keen on Paige's crush, mostly because she was Olie's friend, and he always went out of his way to be as cold as possible without being rude.
But his face holds the same neutral, guarded expression it always does.
"I'll just have the grilled cheese," Liam says.
"Ooh, that sounds good," Dean muses next to me.
"Dude, we literally came here because you wanted the stew," Connor says.
"I'll have the grilled cheese too," I say to Paige. Then to Dean, "You can have a bit from mine."
Dean smiles. "Thanks."
"Six beef stews. Two grilled cheeses. And to drink?" Paige looks around the table once, before fixing her eyes on Connor.
"I need water," Leah mumbles quietly, and I get a feeling she meant it to be heard only by her brother.
"I want something strong," Connor says.
"You'll drink water," Owen says. "Water for everyone please, Paige."
Connor scoffs. Owen is unaffected.
"You have an interview in the morning, idiot," Chloe says.
"That's why I wanted something strong," Connor mumbles.
"Water for everyone please," Owen repeats.
Paige smiles. "Very well. I'll bring your drinks right up."
"One drink wouldn't make me hangover," Connor grumbles.
Whatever Chloe shoots back at her brother gets forced into background noise by the sudden jolt through my body, starting right where Liam's thigh makes contact with mine under the table.
I look at him to see if it was on purpose and the little half-hidden smile doesn't surprise me. I bite my lip, leaning forward to set my elbows on the table, hopefully hiding the view to our legs from Owen who's sitting right next to me.
Liam's foot moves under the table to rest right next to mine so that our legs are now touching practically from hip to ankle. I bite my lip, looking down at the tabletop.
It should be embarrassing. The heat at the pit of my stomach from just our legs touching. That's how much power he can have over me.
A few years back had I found myself in this position, I would be wishing he was sitting literally anywhere else. As far away from me as possible.
But lately I can't even find the energy for that.
I'm mortified by the idea anyone could see what's going on under the table and know the thoughts in my head, but I also crave the contact. I want the heat in my stomach. And I have trouble stopping myself from imagining where this could go if we were alone.
Like the last time we were here. Just the two of us.
Except that was totally innocent. There were some heated words and lowered voices, moments of tingling warmth. But in the end, it was all perfectly innocent.
We stayed until closing time. Just talking. There were beats of comfortable silence, and a few instances of a more charged silence. But when the night ended, Liam walked me to the lobby, we stared at each other, I thought about kissing him, then we each went home to our separate beds.
I tossed and turned most of that night, thinking about reaching for my phone to find out if he was asleep. I ended up staring at the ceiling, imagining he was feeling just as restless in his corner of our little home town bubble.
After that, just feeling his leg pressed against mine, makes my breath catch. I feel warm and ansty. Everyone else around us feels simultaneously out of focus and too much. I want them gone. I want us to be upstairs in his room so I can touch him.
I fight those thoughts for a while, but not long enough. Images of my hands on him flood my mind. Images drawn from memory and imagination.
A whistle brings me out of my thoughts and into the moment. Everyone's looking at me, but it's Connor who asks, "Did you hear what I just said?"
"What?"
There's some laughter around the table as Connor huffs indignantly. "I was over here roasting you for twenty minutes, saying baby Astor is enough to put you and Miller to shame, and you didn't hear a word?"
I can see Liam laughing as he withdraws his leg a little. I hate that he knows what he's done. But I hate that he pulled away more.
I bite my lip, aware that I'm taking too long to react. But I don't trust myself to speak. Not right now. I'm too flustered.
"You can't compare Leah to Eli, because he's a defenseman and she's a center," Owen says, glancing knowingly at me. A spark of doubt and apprehension fires in my head, but I tell myself not to panic. This is Owen. He always looks like he knows something. Sometimes he doesn't know half as much as he think, but the look alone is enough to put you off.
Connor grins. "Yeah, fair. But in that case I can compare her to you, captain."
The arch of Owen's eyebrows is a challenge. And Connor tries to meet it.
I shift in my seat so that no body part of mine is touching Liam anymore, and make a point of staying focused on the conversation for the rest of dinner.
Liam doesn't do it again. Or try anything like it either. He's well-behaved the whole night.
And I shouldn't be so disappointed by that.