Page 31 of Breaking the Ice

Anyway, it was great. And not surprising, Isabella was amazing. When she takes her bow, I cheer even louder and put two fingers in my mouth, letting out a piercing whistle. The people in the seats next to me jump. Maybe the theater is not the place for that, but oh well, because she deserves her own cheering section. If I had thought of it, I would have made her a sign. Glancing around confirms, though, there’s definitely no one who did that. I’m perhaps not as cultured as I led Jonas to believe.

After the final curtain call with the whole cast, I gather my things and follow the rest of the crowd to the lobby. I hang back, but it looks like the cast is milling around, greeting people they know. I don’t want to monopolize Isabella’s time or anything, but I’d love to congratulate her on an awesome performance.

I spy her out of the corner of my vision. She’s still in her costume—long dress and hair in a bun as Cecily. She hugs a woman who’s her height with short, strawberry blonde hair, then throws her head back and laughs. She looks so damn pretty, it takes my breath away. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes sparkle. They widen when she spots me.

“Evan!” She motions me over. “I didn’t expect you to come. Did you get credit from a class to be here?”

“What? No. I came to see you.” Like I have robot arms, I thrust the bouquet of flowers I brought at her.

“Oh.” Accepting them, she stares at the ground and shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Thanks. That was really kind of you. Some professors give extra credit if students attend. I didn’t realize… Um.” Her gaze snaps back to mine. “What did you think?”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “It was awesome. You were amazing. The way you just became Cecily.”

She shrugs. “I just say the words written in the script.”

I shake my head. “It’s more than that. You’re really talented.”

I feel like the sun is shining on me as she beams. “Seriously. Thank you.”

“Isabella, who’s your friend?” the woman next to her asks, her tone teasing. They look similar enough for me to guess they’re related. A sly grin dances over her features.

Isabella clears her throat. “Mom, this is Evan. One of Dad’s hockey players. The one I tutor. We’ve become friends, and…” She trails off, like she’s helpless to explain my presence here.

I guess I didn’t think about how Isabella would explain things between us to her mom. To be fair, I didn’t think I’d be meeting her mom. But I hated the thought that her dad couldn’t make time to show up for her. I knew I had to, and I’m glad her mom did, too.

I’m not surprised that she said we’re friends, but it makes me even more determined to show her that we could be more.

I shove my hand out in front of me. The least I can do is try to make a good impression on Coach’s wife. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Russell.”

She takes it, smiling. “Ah, one of the hockey players. So, what do you think of the coach?”

“He’s great. So great.” I wince. I’m too earnest, like I don’t know any other words.

She raises a brow. “You don’t have to say that just because he’s my husband, but I’m glad you like him. I know his brand of gruff isn’t for everyone.”

I clear my throat. “I probably sound like a suck-up, but it’s true. Honestly. Coach Russell makes us as good as we can be.” I rock on the balls of my feet. “And if I have anything to say about it, we’re going to win a National Championship again this year.”

“Cocky. I like it.” She hums, then glances over at her daughter. “And what did you think of the play?”

She’s asking about the play, but I can tell what she’s really saying is, what do you think of Isabella?

So maybe I’m a sucker, but I let what I’m feeling bleed into my voice and shine out of my dopey expression.

“It was amazing. I’ve never seen anything so awesome in my life.”

Her mom pats me on the shoulder. Probably happy that I found an adjective besides “great.” “That’ll do, son. That’ll do.”

Isabella blushes, her cheeks turning the same color as the roses she’s holding. “I have to get changed, obviously—” she gestures up and down at her costume “—but would you like to go out for ice cream with us? It’s a tradition.”

“Depends.” I smirk. “Where do you go?”

She scoffs. “What do you mean, it depends?”

“Well, there’s really only one right answer to the question.”

“Like, if I answered Dairy Queen, you’d say no.” She stares up at me, a challenge in her eyes that turns me on.

I keep my expression serious, nodding my head and frowning. “I’d suddenly remember a test I have to study for.”