Page 30 of Breaking the Ice

He winces. “Too bad it coincides with the hockey schedule.”

“What about Sunday afternoon?” Evan blinks, like he’s as surprised as anyone that he interjected himself into this conversation. “Uh, sir,” he adds, like that will fix his overstep.

My dad frowns, and his voice is gruff. “I have to watch film, son. I’m sure you think that coaching is easy, but⁠—”

“No, no, I understand.” Evan swallows, then rushes on. “I just thought you could rearrange your schedule for your daughter, or let Coach Bouchard⁠—”

“You’re a talented player,” my dad steps closer and gets in his face, eyes narrowing. “But not talented enough to tell me how to do my job. Since you want to run the show, be sure to stay and help clean everything up. Maybe you’ll learn a little responsibility.”

With that, Dad turns and skates off, and my emotions war within my heart. I’m embarrassed that Evan saw how little my dad cares. I’m ashamed he got punished for me, and yet part of me is elated that he stuck up for me. I shove that part down and try to make my face impassive.

“I don’t need you to do that,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “I’m sorry you got in trouble, but⁠—”

“Nah, I’m not. You deserve it.” Evan shrugs. “And I probably do, too, for running my mouth off to my coach that way. I told you, it’s my special talent. Good luck at practice.”

He starts to turn away and skate off when I correct him. “Rehearsal.”

“Hmm?” He spins back to me.

“Practice is for hockey players. Rehearsal is for the theater.”

“I don’t know.” His blue eyes twinkle. “We’re both dedicated to our craft and to improving. To being our best for a game or a performance. It doesn’t seem all that different to me.”

Huh. I never thought of it that way.

“If you say so,” I reply before I can overthink it.

“I do. So, break a leg or whatever.”

“Okay. As long as you don’t.”

“I’ll try my best.” He winks, and I wish he’d kiss me again.

“See ya ‘round, Evan.”

I skate away before I get so distracted I’m late for practice. I mean, rehearsal. This guy has gotten in my head. And I think I kinda like it.

Chapter

Thirteen

EVAN

Jonas: Wanna hang out this afternoon and play Rocket League? Or NHL on PS5?

Evan: Nah, man. Can’t. I’ve got plans.

Jonas: What are you up to?

Evan: I’m seeing a play.

Jonas: For real?

Evan: Yeah. I’m super cultured. Obviously.

Jonas: Whatever you say.

When the curtain drops after “The Importance of Being Ernest,” I leap to my feet with the rest of the crowd, clapping and hollering. I don’t know much about plays, but that one was freaking amazing. So funny, but like, you could miss it and think it was serious. What’s that called? Satire?