Center Ice

by Cate Cameron

I strode over to his passenger door, and by the time I got there he’d slid back into the cab and leaned over to push the door open.

“Tyler MacDonald, squirrel tamer and chauffeur from Hell.” I wiped my palm as subtly as I could on the skirt of my dress, then shook his hand. “Karen Webber. Damsel in distress, apparently.” And for the first time in quite a while, I meant it when I smiled at him and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

I was supposed to be confident and popular and outgoing, not a crowd-phobic recluse.

We just hung out, swimming and lying in the sun and talking about stupid stuff. I got a lot better at knowing when she was about to get uncomfortable, and she started to loosen up a little, like she was trusting me to not push in somewhere that was none of my business.

I recognized a few of the faces and had a sudden urge to keep driving. We could just keep going, maybe circle around and go back to the lake. We could live on wild strawberries and fish, and maybe sleep in the truck, or build a shack on the beach…

I didn’t know what Karen was doing, living with these people, but I knew that at least one of them would really prefer that I drop dead. I didn’t think I’d mention that to Karen.

It might be nice to have some sort of mask between me and the rest of the world. At least most of the rest of the world.

Every time I woke up, I lost her again, and it took me a while to adjust.

Being with Karen made me feel good, and that was what I needed right then. I just hoped she’d be okay with me showing up.

He really did seem like a decent guy. And a total slut who used girls like they were toys. I had no idea what to do with the contradiction.

Tyler was a distraction, but he wasn’t one that I could afford. I was still too messed up, and I didn’t need the complications. He was a temptation I should try to resist.

I wasn’t trying to turn off my brain anymore. Instead, I felt alive, using my body for the sheer joy of it, like a little kid. I saw the grin on Tyler’s face and knew he felt the same way.

I wanted to be the guy she wanted me to be, even if there was no real payoff for it. I wanted to be that guy for its own sake, just for my own satisfaction.

In the awkward silence, I tried to figure out whether pretending to be in love with your best friend was homophobic.

calloused and rough. The night air was cool, but his body was warm. His strength made me feel weak, but when I touched him and I saw how he reacted, I knew I was powerful.

“I still don’t care about hockey. But I’m starting to take a bit of an interest in a certain player. I hear he’s really good. Captain of the team, leading scorer. Nice muscles, killer smile.”

“Hey, Brett,” I said casually. He looked at me, a quick, oily smile on his face and it felt really good to say, “You’re fired. Stay away from me, and stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.”

“And I can worry about the ‘play my game’ part all on my own. I’ll let you know if I need help with anything, but otherwise, you don’t need to worry about it. I just…I’d like it if you were involved in the ‘live my life’ part. I’d like you to be heavily involved. If that works for you.” “It does,” I said. “It works for me. It really does.”