Unsteady

by Peyton Corinne

She’s smiling gently, dressed in long sweatpants that pool on the hardwood and one of my father’s old threadbare Winnipeg team shirts.

CANADA!

“I’m only thinking about how obnoxious it is to spell ‘Reece’ like that. God, could he be more cliché?”

ntm on the name rhys it is very beautiful to me. for reasons.

I wonder if I could convince her to She’s the Man herself onto the men’s hockey team so I never have to be on the ice without her.

cute

“I know I am not your mother.” He raises his hand to silence my protests. “But along with her, you are the most important thing in my life. I would bleed myself dry if it meant I could take your pain for you. Now, tell me.”

MAX KOSTESKIY!!!

“Thank you, Rhys. For telling me everything, for letting me in.” My dad clears his throat and wipes the tears from his cheeks before meeting my gaze. “Listen to me closely. I don’t care if you toss your skates in the trash tomorrow. I don’t care what you choose to do for the rest of your life as long as you’re happy.” He chuckles and relaxes back into the chair. “If you’d picked up a basketball all those years ago, I’d be courtside for the rest of my life with one of those big foam fingers. If you take up a paintbrush, I’ll buy every piece that we have wall space for. If you use that big brain of yours for engineering or law, I’ll do whatever I can to show I support you until my last breath.”

Dilf

Rhys Koteskiy could never be confined to just one song—he’s a symphony, a never-ending playlist that I want to repeat forever.