Ice Cold - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Wren Ridley
There was a reason why I never let myself feel guilty or shameful. I hated being wrong, loathed it, so much that I forced myself to stand by my actions and words, to reject guilt and embrace the way I was. Being around Landon only made me realize this more.
Perhaps I hated him irrationally, or only because Fox did. Because although I'd never admitted to the guilt I felt over the way I had treated Fox throughout our lives, I felt the need to somehow avenge Fox for how Landon had treated him, to protect him.
But then Landon had to go and show that he was actually human who felt remorse and ruined everything, ruined any justifications I had conjured up in my mind for constantly antagonizing him.
I had always felt that people were too easy to read. Most of them wore their emotions plainly through their facial expressions and body language. That made me focus on hiding my own, making sure nobody knew anything about me that I didn't allow them to. But I was beginning to feel like I actually didn't know anything about Landon at all, despite the ways his emotions were easily detectable and he was easily agitated.
"You don't have class today?" Anthony, one of the workers at the coffeeshop and fellow Brown University student, asked as he wiped down the table next to mine.
I looked at the time to see that it was just after the start time of my first class. I had been sitting here and writing all morning without even feeling the passage of time.
"Canceled," I lied, making sure to save my work before shutting my laptop.
Anthony nodded, moving onto another table to clean. The coffeeshop had quieted down some. The early morning rushes were always the busiest times. That was why I had to get here early to secure a spot to sit and write. It was hard for me to write at night with James in the room. He snored like a chainsaw and if for some reason he woke up in the middle of the night, he wouldn't leave me alone if he saw me awake. It was just as loud in here in the mornings, but the sounds were not nearly as irritating as James's snoring.
"Who was that guy with you earlier?" Anthony asked. "He asked for your coffee order."
"Just someone who owed me a favor," I replied, sliding my laptop into my bag and standing from the table. "His name's Lance, just so you know for when he comes in."
"He's cute," Anthony said with a grin.
"He wouldn't go for you, I'm afraid," I said, though I had no idea who Landon would actually go for. To me, he seemed hell bent on staying away from everybody all the time.
"But he would go for you?" Anthony laughed. His laugh was high pitched, which James found endearing and infectious. He and Anthony had dated briefly in the past, but for some reason had stopped seeing each other. That was all James had told me about the ordeal.
"I never said that," I replied.
"He looked all nervous to go talk to you," he told me.
"Interesting," I replied, pulling my bag over my shoulder and picking up my coffee cups. "Anyway, I have to go make sure James got out of bed this morning."
I grinned when Anthony grimaced at the sound of James's name leaving my mouth. Whatever had happened between them was bad enough that even hearing his name made Anthony uncomfortable, which was exactly what I needed to make my exit without any more conversation.
When I got back to the dorm room, James was out of bed, but clearly not in class as he paced around our room with a book in hand, scouring the pages.
"What are you doing?" I asked, shutting the door behind me.
"Studying," he said, stopping his pacing but never taking his eyes off the book.
"If you actually went to class, you wouldn't have to study so hard," I told him, dropping my bag down on my bed.
"Thanks, didn't ask," James replied, turning the page before looking up from the book to set his gaze on me. "Where were you this morning anyway? I woke up and you weren't here."
"I was in class," I lied, leaning back against my bed.
He looked at his watch. "Your class doesn't get out for another twenty minutes."
"Got let out early," I told him. "Professor had to be somewhere."
James scoffed, tossing his book aside. "See, this is why I don't bother going to class sometimes because these professors are wasting our time."
I just nodded in agreement. James would think of any excuse or justification for not going to class and run with it. It wasn't because he was lazy or irresponsible. I truly believed he didn't go because none of his classes actually challenged him. Although he did a good job at hiding it, James was incredibly intelligent, and if a class wasn't challenging him, he just simply wouldn't go and would go through all the material on his own.
"I talked to Anthony at the coffee shop," I told him and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he wiped anything other than indifference from his face.
"That's cool," James replied. And I had to give it to him. If I didn't already know James was uncomfortable at the mention of Anthony, I would have thought he was truly indifferent. "Are you going to the rest of your classes today or do you want to hang out?"
"I'm going to my classes."
"So you don't want to have sex or anything right now?"
I laughed. "No."
James sighed and picked his book up.
A moment later, there was a loud knock on our door, and when I opened it, Stella came into the room beaming. Her expression faltered for a moment when she saw me.
"What happened to your face?" she asked, gesturing toward my bruise.
"Walked into a door," I lied.
She didn't look like she believed me, but she wasn't about to question me about it either.
"Guess what," she said to me, sitting on top of my desk.
"Hm?"
"Come on," she said. "Guess who I just saw."
"How am I supposed to guess that?" I asked incredulously. "There are seven billion people in the world and I'm supposed to guess the one you saw?"
Stella rolled her eyes. "You're so annoying. You know this person. That narrows it down don't you think?"
"I know a lot of people."
"Oh my God." She shook her head. "The guy from the bar! The one you know from home that you took here the other night!"
"When was this?" James asked, not even looking up from his book.
"That night you were so drunk you rolled off of my bed and hit the floor so hard I thought you died," she told him.
"I have no memory of that."
"Why is this important?" I asked, growing impatient. I felt something strange and unrecognizable. I couldn't tell if I was annoyed at the mere mention of Landon or if I was anxious to hear what she had to say about him. Neither option was preferable.
"Because I saw him at Kyle's–"
"Who's Kyle?"
"A guy I hooked up with, anyway, I saw him at Kyle's," she continued. "Apparently they're roommates. And I invited him to come out with us this weekend."
I felt a jolt from within me, but I didn't let the surprise show on my face.
"Why?" I asked, keeping my voice even.
"Because I feel bad that his friends left him last time," she said. "He should be able to go out and not have to worry about being left alone while he's drunk. And you two know each other."
"Barely."
This was the thing with Stella. She always felt the need to get to know everyone. It was why she had so many casual friends and very little close ones. She wanted to know everyone and their business while only letting few people know her. She was friendly to a fault.
There was no use thinking on it too long. Landon wouldn't show up anyway.
***
Landon Reilly
I wished that getting back on the ice would have given me some sort of relief, like I was back on my feet again and feeling like I belonged. But that really wasn't the case. With hockey practice starting up, I now had no excuse to avoid any of my teammates. I would have to start seeing them every day and endure them trying to get me to become one of them when I really just wanted to be left alone.
Most of the team was just standing around on the ice while we waited for practice to officially start. Some of us were doing laps around the ice. I was one of those, skating around the perimeter of the rink with the hopes to keep myself busy and have no one try to talk to me.
But when the coaches made their way to the ice, everyone gathered.
Coach Foreman and Assistant Coach Carter stood in front of the team. There were about thirty or forty of us and only half of us would actually get to play in games. The coaches might rotate the roster a bit and allow for some of the younger guys like me to have some ice time in games with our less competitive opponents, but the reality was that most of us wouldn't get to play that much.
"I want all of us to have a good season on and off the ice," Coach Foreman started, gathering the attention of all the players. "And that means I expect everyone's best efforts for the entire duration. And for the veteran players, I expect you to take care of the rookies, guide them. Remember how you felt your freshman year."
Coach Foreman went on to talk about all his expectations for the season. The many practices during the week, that we had to keep our grades up, that no one's position was permanent and we had to earn it.
The team seemed to perk up once we started doing some drills. The team captain, senior Chris Rojas, was leading the drills. He had been someone I had kept tabs on while I was still in high school and watching college hockey from home, though I never thought I'd play with him. Back then I was still thinking I'd be going to Notre Dame.
By the time practice was over, I was ready to shower and get into bed, but before I could get off the ice, Rojas skated in front of me and caused me to halt.
"What's your name again?" he asked me. He was the type to look at you with so much attention with he was talking to you, like the whole world around you was a blur.
"Landon Reilly," I said, my voice bland and my expression blank.
"You're quite good, Reilly," Rojas replied.
Everyone around here went by their last names, I had noticed. This wasn't something we did at my high school. It was really only reserved for the guys who had the same first names. There were way too many Johns and Noahs and Jameses for those to go by their first names.
"Thanks," I muttered in response to Rojas.
He patted me on the shoulder twice before turning to leave the ice.
"Keep it up!"
I waited a moment before following him to the locker room.
I used to never dread going to the locker room, but since my sexuality was not exactly a secret anymore, it became a stressful situation. Part of the problem was that I had no idea who exactly knew about my sexuality, who just ignored it, or who didn't know at all.
These thoughts of worry also made me think about what I had done to Elijah in this situation. Micah telling me in a hush that he was worried for Elijah because of what he had told him, me getting angry and letting the whole team know just because of how Elijah's sexuality made me feel, hitting him, letting others hit him. It all came back and it made me want to throw up every time I stepped foot in a locker room. It made me simultaneously scared for that treatment and wishing for it just to get a taste of what I put him through.
But of course, nothing happened. All the guys were in good spirits after our first practice and were making plans to go out together this weekend. That was what I wanted to avoid. I wanted to play hockey and go home.
Cooper, who I had learned was actually John Cooper, clapped me on the shoulder as I stood at my own stall after I had quickly showered and changed into my clothes.
"Landon!" he exclaimed. "You'll go out with us this weekend, right? Jess said she saw you on Friday and you went home with someone! Good for you!"
I shook his hand off me and did my best not to snap at him. He was one of the ones that left me there. He was why I had to get dragged back to Wren's dorm.
"Maybe," I said shortly, hoping to stop the conversation there.
Luckily, my phone started ringing, and I had never been so happy for Micah to call me.
"Gotta take this, see you later," I said before grabbing my bag and rushing out of the locker room and answering the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, you haven't called in a while," Micah replied. "Dad said you went home this weekend. How was it?"
I let out a long breath as I stepped outside and started walking back to my dorm.
"It was good," I told him. "I spent some time with Olivia."
"Oh yeah? How is she?"
"She seemed good," I replied. I didn't want to tell him that I thought she was hiding how bad things really were at home. Even Micah and his parents didn't know exactly how horrible our parents actually were.
"Did you start hockey yet?" Micah asked, though I knew he already knew the answer to that. I was sure he had my whole schedule memorized better than I did.
"Just left practice," I told him. "Did you call for anything in particular?"
"You know I like to check in."
"Yeah, I know."
"Elijah said he saw you," Micah added and I stopped in my tracks.
"You talked to Elijah?"
"We keep in touch," he replied. "He just mentioned it."
I didn't respond, wanting to get off the topic of Elijah immediately.
"Anyway, you'll have to keep me up to speed with what's going on with you now that we're both starting hockey," Micah continued. He probably knew the mention of Elijah made me uncomfortable.
"Yeah, sure, Micah," I said, jogging across the street to get to my building.
"Maybe I'll come down there some time when we both have a little time off," he suggested.
He would be sorely disappointed if he did. All I did to pass the time was work out and sit in my room doing nothing. And of course there was the fact that he would most likely find out that I haven't set up any appointments with a counselor here like my therapist wanted, and he would be on me about it.
"If you want," I replied as I stepped into my building.  "Listen, Micah, I gotta go, okay?"
"Alright," he said. "Promise you'll call soon?"
"Sure." Though I was sure I'd forget and he'd be the one to end up calling anyway. He probably knew that too but just wanted to seem like he wasn't being overbearing by calling my phone all the time.
"Okay. Talk to you later."
"Bye."
Kyle wasn't in the room when I got back, and I was grateful for that. After seeing him with Stella that morning, I was hoping not to see him again for a while.
After changing into pajamas, I turned all the lights off, pulled the curtains over the window, and went to sleep.